Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

How to Get Rich

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No oven. Not just a tiny oven, mind you, but no oven. It’s broken! A stove that is about quarter the size of the standard-size cooktop, and little to no counter space. Reduced cabinets available, and don’t even get me started on the refrigerator. It’s itty bitty. In fact, we had to ask our landlord if we could keep our turkey in their office fridge to thaw. This was my Thanksgiving now. This was my life.

A year ago we felt the Lord leading us down a scary road. We felt God wanted us to sell all our possessions, give up our comfortable home and routine, and travel the country as a family in an RV. Yeah, you’re not the first person to look at us like we’re crazy. We got a lot of that. Heck, we thought it was crazy too, but that couldn’t change the fact that we still felt like He wanted us to go. Not sure exactly how He could use this traveling lifestyle for us to further His kingdom, we began to step forward, but with trepidation.

That Thanksgiving I cooked in a spacious kitchen, complete with a fully functioning and adequate sized oven. I took the bounty from my double door fridge, and set platters all along my ceramic counters, eating from our dining room table. Did I mention before that we don’t have a dining room table now? We don’t have a dining room either. It’s basically one room that encompasses the dining, kitchen, and living room. One room a little bigger than my previous, spare bedroom. So recently as I struggled to prepare a Thanksgiving meal in my tiny house on wheels it didn’t get past me how different this year was from the ones before.

Although, back then, God was pushing us in the direction He had in mind, while changing our hearts and desires, I know it took a bit of fire to get us to jump. A failed business where we had to close the doors, mounting bills, and us seeing no other way to turn certainly did the trick. A part of me mourned to watch all our furniture fly out the door in the hands of strangers for pennies on the dollar, to let go of a life that had become routine. When we drove away from our two story, dream home, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me cry a little bit.

I used to have three full bathrooms, my own master bath complete with double sinks and a vanity table in between. Now I got ready in a bathroom the size of my previous linen closet. The hot water heater now held 10 measly gallons, and we emptied the contents of our toilet once a week at least. It’s a good thing we got rid of all of our things because we wouldn’t have room for them anyway. Can’t you just imagine how my Thanksgiving went?!

It was…

It was…

It was the most blessed day I’ve had in forever. And if I hesitate it’s only because I’m about to cry happy tears over it. I’m not sure what it is about giving up everything that makes you appreciate the little you have. It’s like when that measly, 10 gallon, hot water heater went out on us last month. After almost two weeks of cold showers, now, every time that steaming water hits me I cry, “thank you, Jesus!”

Sure, I have a small kitchen, but I get to stand at the counter of it with my darling daughters at my feet. I have less square footage, but more time with my spouse. I own less things, but I appreciate even more the things that I have now. I am thankful for the things I do have, not the things I do not. And it seems to me that your attitude towards your circumstances is what really makes them what they are.

Some folks would see living in a fifth wheel as a sad, downgrade. We see it as a blessed adventure. We are living the life God led us to lead, and enjoying it pleases Him even more. My daughters don’t pine for the toys they no longer have. They’re too busy enjoying themselves playing with the ones they do. And that’s where the meat of thankfulness lies.

To be grateful is to be so occupied with joy over the gifts before you that you have not the time to think of the things you do not possess. I mean, you could, but that mindset ruins everything. You have two choices in life. You can walk in a way that celebrates the beauty of little things like a gorgeous sunset and a yummy breakfast, or you can trudge through life complaining about it all. The interesting thing is that for most of us, the things we detest are the very things someone else prays for. The life most of us lead is never good enough for us, yet over our shoulder is someone admiring it. We seem to be a generation that doesn’t realize how truly blessed it is.

I never knew I could be so grateful for what a year ago, to me, would have seemed so little. It’s most peculiar, for it seems that as my possessions shrunk, my heart grew. God knew that me giving up the things that I only thought were a blessing would open my eyes to the things that truly are. He knew that an uncertain future would make me more able to appreciate His guidance and provision in my life. He knew that changing my life and removing me from my comfort zone would cause me to trust Him more. He knew He needed to slow my life down, take away the schedules and to-do lists that distracted me, to open my eyes to the beauty of the world around me. He knew that sometimes the weight of too much makes your heart feel less.

Now, each day that I wake the first thing out of my mouth is praise. Even if it’s 5am and I’m getting up to go to work I will proclaim, “thank you, Lord, for a good night’s sleep.”

If I don’t sleep so well I’ll say, “thank you, Lord, that I didn’t sleep any worse. Thank you that you’ll give me the strength I need for the day.”

If my bank account is dwindling I’ll say, “thank you, Lord, that we have enough for what we need.”

If I have a bad day at work I’ll say, “thank you, Lord, that you got me through it.”

So when I’m bumping into the wall in that tiny bathroom, and my mind wants to be angry that it’s so small, I’ll be quick to say, “thank you, Lord, for this RV. Thank you that it’s all ours, that we own it. Thank you that it’s dry and warm.”

I could focus on the fact that it’s cramped, or I could focus on the fact that it’s all I really need, and that I’m grateful I have it at all. I’ve seen enough homeless people lately to know they would love to have the life I do.

When my children are driving me crazy I try to remember they won’t always be small.

When I’m tired from work I try to remember what a blessing my job is, how it provides so well, and how it offers us the option to explore the country on the days I’m not working.

When the devil would try to whisper discontent to my heart, I would silence him by speaking gratitude. After all, if you’re constantly in an attitude of gratitude you’ll be far too busy to complain or be unhappy with your lot.

This is only something I’ve learned this past year. I used to always dream of more, long for better, and hope for bigger. I wanted a larger home, a newer car, more vacations, and things like that. I didn’t realize until recently that less can be more, and that the very best things in life cannot be measured. Love is free, and it exists when you have little, and when you have a lot. It’s just a matter of if you can see it. Gratitude opens your eyes to appreciate the small things in life. You desire less because you realize you already have all you’ll ever need.

I still have my moments when discontent tries to come upon me. I think we’ll always have the option, but it’s up to us to decide how we’ll go forward from there. You can wallow in unhappiness and a longing for more, or you can walk in gratitude and be the richest person in the world.

A Generation That Hates Mondays

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We’re a generation that hates Mondays. Have you noticed that? Monday Memes abound, and when Sunday evening draws to a close the majority of America falls into a state of silent dread, downtrodden for the walk into whatever workplace that awaits them the following morning. I wonder to my self sometimes, was it always this way?

What are we working for, or who are we working for? When did we become so discontent with our station in life that the thing we spend the majority of our time doing (work) becomes the thing we dread the most? Worse than death and taxes, it seems work has taken first place as the most certain thing we absolutely must face. And we face it with a deep-set frown.

I mean, you gotta work, right? Someone has to pay the bills, pay the second mortgage, finance the Disney trip next summer, and keep the kiddos in designer duds. We live to work, we work to live, never imagining there could be a different way.

We’re afraid to do the things we really love, the things dreams are made of. I went into the nursing field over packing up and heading to Hollywood because my dad insisted the medical field was the smart choice, the reliable choice, the vocation that would bring in a steady income. Because that’s the world we live in.

We don’t chase dreams; we chase paychecks. We don’t create a debt-free life. Instead we create the life we’ve always dreamed of, complete with price tags we can’t really afford. We pack our lives and over-sized homes with things we don’t really need, but things that might fill the emptiness we have over doing a job we don’t really enjoy.

Or perhaps we forget who we’re working for. Generations before us had a pride for their jobs, whatever they were, because they knew they were working (in essence) for their families. Today we’re usually working for a newer car, a bigger lawn, or to payoff our caviar dreams. We work for vacation, not for the satisfaction of a job well done. We work overtime for those coveted vacations that photograph well, the ones to even make the Joneses green with envy. We work day in and day out for those paltry two weeks that are so jam-packed with all the things we’ve been missing that we’re exhausted from our time off. Is there any Monday worse than the Monday after vacation?

Is there a way we could hate Mondays less? I mean, Monday isn’t really any different than Tuesday, or Friday for that matter. As a nurse I can be off on a Monday as easy as work a Sunday. So it’s not so much Monday that we hate, but rather what Monday represents. And typically Monday represents the return to something we’d rather not return to. It’s a return to a job we hate, a job we gripe about endlessly, yet are afraid to leave. We’re afraid to make a change, as if we truly believe that the evil we know is far better than the one we do not.

So, we’ll keep robotically returning to something we dread, living life like a replay reel. Just like the movie Groundhog Day, we’re forced to repeat each and every day just like the one before it. Yet even in that movie, didn’t Bill Murray discover he could change the outcome of each and every day?

Can we be the change?

What if we stepped out in courage to conquer something new?

What if we listened to the still, small voice in our head that told us of a different way?

What if we stopped working to have more stuff we didn’t really need?

Or we stopped losing sight of the joy that existed in every single day?

Maybe we could open our eyes to the little things that blessed us, instead of trudging in a trance to the beat of the same glum drum.

Maybe we could pay off debt instead of creating more. Maybe we could create time off instead. Maybe we could create the opportunity to chase a dream.

Because I’m still over here trying to figure out when in the world The Great American Dream stopped being about living your dreams?! And instead it became about striving in stress to create for yourself what someone else said is “your” American Dream.

We forgot how to step outside the box. We forgot how to focus on what’s important. We started one day working for all the stuff that will rust and ruin, instead of cultivating and creating a legacy to leave behind.

And you see, a legacy doesn’t have to be what the world says is “great.” Sometimes most times the greatest legacy you can leave behind is family and friends who have learned from you to cherish life as the gift it is. They know you don’t just cherish Saturday and Sunday, dragging themselves through the rest of the week in a disillusioned fog. No! They cherish every day. They work for the things they cherish in all of those cumulative days, and if it’s not worth cherishing then they don’t waste their time working over for it. They won’t work tirelessly for another man’s dream. They’ll create their own.

So why do we hate Mondays? Perhaps it’s because we’re uncomfortable. We’re uncomfortable living a life that fights for dreams we didn’t dream. Instead we’re working for dreams that society created for us. They’re dreams of paper and sand that will collapse before we ever obtain them. And even if we do grab a little handful, won’t the wind eventually just blow it away?

Perhaps if we were working for our own dreams, working for relationships with those we love, and working less because we let go of the paper dreams, maybe then we wouldn’t hate Mondays quite so much.

I mean, it’s worth a try, right?

Ask yourself, what are you working for? If you died tomorrow and it wouldn’t follow you to Heaven, then perhaps it’s not worth working so laboriously to obtain.

I don’t know, but maybe Monday can just be another day.

3 Things Living in an RV Has Taught Me

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With a burst of days off on the horizon our family decided to stay in a little cabin by the lake. Call it a mini vacay. We rented the smallest one they had, but as I watched my children run around excitedly, I realized it was huge to us. As far as square footage goes, it was smaller than the four bedroom home we used to live in, but it’s funny how quickly you forget what it’s like to have room to roam after living in an RV.

It’s not that it’s a bad thing! On the contrary, I know we made the right decision leaving The American Dream to pursue something outside of the box. Most days when I’m sitting on my little, turquoise sofa in my fifth wheel’s living room/dining room/kitchen, I smile contently and thank the Lord for what we have. Even though it hasn’t been long since we sold everything to travel the country in an RV, I’ve already learned a lot from the experience.

Here’s three things that came to mind today.

1. You learn to appreciate the little things. As we checked out the little, rental cabin today I heard my eldest daughter say to her sister, “I gotta pee. Hey, look at this toilet! Remember how easy they are to use?!”

I was at the double-door refrigerator that had shelves upon shelves of room for perishable groceries, and I was loading an ice cube tray I had just filled with water into the freezer. Oh, how I had missed ice! We had a freezer in our fifth wheel. It just happened to be the size of a large shoebox. I usually chose ground beef and chicken over the luxury of ice trays. And while my shopping trips now consisted of me thinking, no, I can’t get that. It won’t fit in the fridge,” at least it motivated me to regularly keep my refrigerator cleaned out.

Yet, even though I was jazzed about the ice and the fact I could fit a gallon of milk and a gallon of Milo’s iced tea in the fridge, I was really looking forward to the bath I was going to take later. Being a woman before who took a hot bath every day of her life, I had always said I’d get a fifth wheel with a tub. That is until I saw that most RV bath tubs were the size of an old wash tub, or one of those baby bath tubs. As such, we had decided on one with only a standup shower the size of an old phone booth, and this momma hadn’t had a bath in a long time.

It’s funny what you can get used to, how you can change, and how you can easily get along without the things you were once certain you absolutely needed. I didn’t regret not having a tub or a residential size refrigerator, but it was nice that living without those things had made me appreciate them when they did happen. It’s easy in first-world life to take for granted small luxuries, but it’s even better to appreciate every gift you have as such.

2. I didn’t need even half of what I once had. All the empty cabinets in the kitchen of the rental cabin brought to mind how packed my cabinets used to be. I had glass dishes, plastic dishes, fine china I never used in fifteen year’s time, and even Christmas dishes to use one month out of the year. I had trinkets galore, gadgets a plenty, and that’s just in the kitchen. The rest of the house followed suit. I had an overflowing closet of clothes, shoes, and handbags I hadn’t used or worn in years, and I was setting my children’s rooms up much the same way.

Having daughters I bought all the frilly dresses, more than they could possibly wear. They had so many toys that even they were overwhelmed with what to play with. No wonder cleaning their rooms was such a chore! They each had their own room that really was just a storage place for all their toys and clothes, and the upstairs of our old home was so seldom used except for those purposes that we didn’t even turn on the second central unit unless absolutely necessary.

I can remember that when I sold all of those things that filled an almost 3000 square foot home, I wondered what I would miss most. The huge casserole dishes I had in the event of church dinners and Thanksgiving feasts, or the blue jeans I had kept from 1992? Would it be the glass fish figurine I bought from a Shell gas station 21 years ago or the cloth bag folded up in the bottom of my closet that my TOMS came in? Would it be the Christmas tablecloth or the set of stacking Lighthouse boxes? Would it be the closet full of linens I never used or the foot massage tub in the back of the bathroom closet?

It turns out I didn’t miss any of it. A house full of things gone. Things I collected, worked for, and bought over twenty years. Gone. And I didn’t miss any of it. Turns out I didn’t use most of it. Turns out, I didn’t notice it was gone. Turns out, neither did the kids. They have never mentioned once any of the multitude of toys we sold or gave away. They just play heartily and joyfully with the special ones we kept. Sounds familiar.

I have never felt such a weight lifted as I did when we offloaded all the miscellaneous stuff we had compiled over the years. It was amazing, and yes, a little frightening to go from a household of possessions to a pickup truck kinda full of select boxes of items. Nothing felt better than when I put our reliable, red coffee maker out on the kitchen counter, along with my mom’s utensil caddy. I smiled happily to put my Lone Sailor statue from Navy Boot Camp on a shelf. I sat it beside a tiny, glass elephant my husband gave me when we first started dating. I once had a full collection of elephant figurines, but it was the only one I had kept. It was special.

Parting with our possessions had made us lighter of stuff and more appreciative of the special and few items we had kept. We had just enough clothes to wear for a couple of weeks, and laundry had never been easier. I’ve discovered most of the things we hold on to we don’t even need, and getting rid of the things you don’t use makes you appreciate more the things you have.

3. What really matters in life. I guess this one, though, is the jest of it. You know what made me smile the biggest when we checked into the cabin? It wasn’t the ice cubes, bath tubs, or even the great view from the balcony. It was the smile on my children’s faces. I’ve watched their bright, joyful smiles every step of this journey. I’ve watched them smile jubilantly when we showed them the room they would share in the fifth wheel, every time we pulled up to a new spot to park our tiny, rolling home, and each morning when they opened their eyes with anticipation of a new day.

You can work yourself to the bones day in and day out. You can pile up money in the bank and diamonds in your jewelry box. You can put a lot of hope in your checking account balance and place a bunch of happiness on the size of your house. Yet when we go into the ground we’ll all go in the same way. None of it will come with us. Not sure I want to waste time investing in the stuff that turns to dust. In this life it’s the people you love, the lives you inspire, and the memories you make. I reckon you can do that in just about any circumstance.

Years ago when my husband first started struggling to keep his business afloat I told him, “I would be happy if we lived in a cardboard box, as long as I was with you.”

Well, sometimes when I’m showering three little girls in a bathroom smaller than my previous walk-in closet, it feels like a cardboard box! But I can honestly say that not one day has gone by where the tight space makes me angry or I long for the life we once had. Maybe God changes hearts to be what they need to be for wherever He places you. Maybe that’s it. Or perhaps I had to have less to appreciate more. All I know is that selling our stuff and traveling around in an RV has been the best thing for us. It’s shown us what’s important in life (like, time together), and what’s not (the things we work hard to buy, that we don’t really need). I’m looking forward to the other things I will learn in this Fulltime Family, RV life. But I’ll be honest. I’m also looking forward to a hot bath tonight and a glass of ice tea, complete with ice cubes.

Come To the Table

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Come to the table.

We live in world of drive-thru, take-out, and fast-food. Fast, fast, fast. We stand up to eat more than we sit. We multitask, eat and run, eat on the fly. We do not come to the table. It simply takes too much time.

Come to the table.

Taste and see.

This was what the Lord was beckoning me to do this morning. Every fiber of the old me wanted to run, to rush to the next stop. We had one more leg in our trip to arrive at the RV park where we would be staying for my next travel nurse assignment. The control-freak, duck-in-a-row persona was ready to get there. She wanted to see the new surroundings, to ensure there wasn’t a problem, to map out the drive to work (a full three days ahead of time), and to get to the next step. That part of me wanted to hurry and be done, but my spirit said, be still.

Slow done. Relax. Take a breather. Enjoy yourself. That’s what the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart.

Come to the table. Dine with me.

That’s what my Father invited. To commune with me, to sit down together, purposefully, and to make that concrete decision to taste and see that the Lord is good. When I rushed and ran I missed those moments with Him. When I hurried here and there I couldn’t hear His voice. When I raced about frantically I allowed my to-do’s to distract me from His presence. I missed out on the banquet table. I missed a sit-down dinner with Dad in favor of busyness. Life had demands, always, but there was also the choice. The choice to sit.

Come to the table.

We had driven what was supposed to take four hours to our current stop, but that had actually taken seven hours with horrible traffic and bathroom breaks. We had setup our fifth wheel after dark, on a hilly, uneven site, with grumpy, hungry children. We had slept long and hard, but as I sat alone on the couch drinking coffee with the Lord this morning I felt like He was calling me to rest some more! It was so easy to get in the routine of rushing, to dive into distraction unaware, to stand up eating so you could move on to the next task, and in that hurried lifestyle you missed family dinner. You missed time with the Father. And in missing dinnertime you also missed the blessing. God speaks health, healing, and abundant blessing into the lives of His children, but we have to stop and partake to even receive.

Come to the table.

Today I accepted the call to be still, to rest, to wait, to taste and see. We extended our stay at the park we had stopped off at, we delayed our arrival to the next. We hung out together, we rode a golf cart, we enjoyed the beauty around us, we drank it in. We saw the gift of God through nature, time with one another, and simply slowing down enough to enjoy His goodness to us. Where stillness of heart resides, so too does peace.

Come to the table.

Is God inviting you to dinner, today?

The Time We Got a Nail in Our Trailer Tire

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The day before we were to head out on the open road for the first time in our (new to us) fifth wheel we decided to make another practice run. This time, in addition to fully unhooking from the site and hooking up to our truck, we decided to leave the relative safety of our RV Park and hit the highway. This allowed us to not only get a feel of turning, as we’d done before, but also to check out highway speeds, accelerating up hills, and the decelerating back down. It had gone fine. I guess.

No. Honestly, it had made me tense. Already an anxious person, when we got going down the road I became acutely aware of every bump and jostle. Each groan of the engine made me wince, and I worried about things I thought I’d already settled my mind about. I began rechecking specs on our truck, performing calculations with abbreviations like GVWR and GCWR, growing more confused and anxious by the minute. The thing was, I knew our truck could handle it. We had gone over it before we even purchased the truck, choosing one we knew wouldn’t limit what RV we chose. We’d gone through it again before purchasing the fifth wheel we bought. Seeing the high number in my owner’s manual of what my truck could pull didn’t ease my mind. I just started worrying about things like hitch pin weight. Whatever that is.

I knew it was just my heart getting the best of me. I was all up in my feelings, as they say. I’ve discovered each day for me is a battle with the flesh. Being a very emotional person, each day I have to decide whether to be guided by my feelings, or the truth. The truth said God was for us, He was our protector, and I had nothing to fear. I woke the morning we were to depart determined to not let my fear get the best of me again, like it had the day before. I read about God’s promises to Joshua, and I knew they were promises for me too. We were on a journey God had given us.

As I showered and dressed my husband read his own Bible, and when I came into the living room he shared the verse he had simply opened his Bible to that morning.

Ezekiel 11:22

Then did the cherubims lift up their wings, and the wheels beside them; and the glory of the God of Israel was over them above.

“The glory of God is over us today.” My husband told me. “Cherubims will be alongside our wheels,” he smiled.

We both worked together that morning in good spirits, we headed out of our neighborhood for the last four months right on time, and we readied our minds for the adventure ahead. But just yards before pulling out of our RV Park my husband spoke, almost like an afterthought.

“I wanna check everything one last time,” he explained.

I sat in the passenger seat as he walked around our fifth wheel, and minutes later he returned.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he said. “There’s a nail in the fifth wheel tire.”

I jumped out quickly to go look with him, and together we stood on the roadside, in the blazing Orlando sun, staring at shiny metal staring back. Another dually, complete with family, came up beside us.

“Y’all need some help?” The stranger asked. Another fulltime family, by the looks of it.

The three of us assessed this odd nail. It had just recently stuck into the tire, but most of it had bent, nestling itself in between the tread. At closer inspection it appeared to have not yet pierced the rubber deeply, but sat in such a way that continued driving would push it farther and farther into the tire. The consensus of us travelers chose to pull it out right then and there. To drive on the nail no further. So that’s what we did. If a tire was going to go flat we wanted it then rather than later. We couldn’t hear air escaping or see it when we sprayed it with soapy water, so we said a prayer, a farewell to our fellow traveler, and roamed on.

I kept the nail. It broke in half when we pulled it out, deep enough to require pressure to remove, but not so deep that any damage was done. We knew, though, that had it stayed in, it would have.

The guy who had surveyed the situation with us had asked my spouse, “how did you even see that thing?!”

But we knew how. He had stopped for a reason. We were not alone on our road trips, and I’m not talking about the kids in the backseat. God’s glory was all around us, and His angels surrounded us. His peace flowed in our hearts, our tire remained taunt over the hundreds of miles, and His love for us was ever evident. His love didn’t mean we wouldn’t get nails in our tires, but it did mean He would never leave us. And that was the best travel reassurance I could get.

What Happens When You Hear God’s Voice Wrong?

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I don’t know where you’re at with your Christian walk. Maybe you’re a seasoned believer, but this post might settle some misgivings. Perhaps you’re a new believer and this post will give you hope. Or you could even be someone who doesn’t follow Jesus, but I’m hoping my story will show you some good points to this business that’s changed my life. Regardless, if you’ve come across this blog then my goal in sharing is for everyone to see that it’s nowhere near as difficult as we make it! Life, I mean. Nine times out of ten we’re the ones making it crazy hard, but it’s not. Here, let me tell you what I mean.

For me, I’ve gotten to this place in my life where I love God more than anything. Maybe that sounds crazy, but I do. More than my husband, more than my children, and even more than myself. Naturally when you love someone so much you desire to please them and devote your life to them. You really want to live your life the way God wants, and that’s where the hiccup can happen. In fact, it’s where the enemy can start scheming to throw you off track. Somewhere in the middle of trying to discern God’s will you get all distracted by the logistics.

“Am I hearing God’s voice correctly?!”

Ugh. It’s like the biggest question Christians ask themselves.

“I want to take this job, but is that what God wants for my life. Am I hearing Him right?”

“I want to marry this guy, but is He the one God has for me? Am I hearing God right?”

“What is God’s will for my life?!!”

In all the questioning I’ve noticed a central theme. I and my.

This morning I woke early to drive and look at another RV. I say another because we’ve looked at a lot! In fact, just yesterday we had gotten home late after looking at fifth wheels an hour away. Today we were scheduled to look at a few more a couple hours away, and sensing my husband’s weariness I had offered to check this one out on my own. In my endless searching of the web I had discovered another gem, and I just wanted to check it out to see if it was the one.

I had been praying for God to help us find the perfect RV for us, a moving-home capable of transporting us from job to job across the country as we traveled for my work and our own enjoyment. We needed something we could live in, not just a weekend jaunt here and there. We needed something that could be a home, and even though we’d sold most of our possessions in anticipation of an RV lifestyle, we still needed drawers for clothes and cabinets for dishes. We needed shelves for school books and a closet to hang my scrubs. I wanted a comfy mattress, and a space for the kids to call their own. I wanted a bathroom bigger than a port-a-potty, and enough counter space to cook like I loved. But in all our wants there also rested reality. We needed something affordable. We didn’t want a payment. This was about saving money, not creating more debt!

“Help us find the perfect RV, Lord,” I had prayed.

And this morning as I sought Him in the solitude of my truck I asked for His wisdom.

“Help me know if this one is the one!”

I thought about all the times I sought His counsel on specific situations, I thought about all the times I felt like I had received an answer, and I thought about all the times I had been wrong! Man. Sometimes it seemed like I couldn’t hear His voice at all. It was like my emotions got in the way. Recently I had been asked by a casting director to be in a reality TV show. I’ll be honest; it made me stoked. I felt like it was the right thing to do. I prayed for signs and felt like God gave them to me to proceed. But then after I had told her yes I started to feel apprehension. My mind spun. Was that apprehension fear or was it God warning me not to go forward? I didn’t know!

When talking to my husband about this particular situation he had said, “I don’t know what’s the right thing to do. Why don’t you just ask God to intervene. If it’s supposed to happen then have Him work it out. Go ahead and move forward, but pray that if it’s not His will that it won’t work.”

I thought about that conversation this morning as I thought about our future RV. I had not heard from that director in a week, and I still didn’t know if I was supposed to be on TV, but I knew I served a mighty God. If she never called me back I’d be fine. I thought about the times I had done one thing, but then God had done something else. It was fine and dandy to seek God in prayer asking for His guidance, but I didn’t need to sweat it so much if I was always hearing His answer right. I figured that when I got so focused on my ability to hear His voice, I couldn’t see His hand. It became a thing where I placed the outcome of life on my ability to discern His will when in reality if I was putting my total trust in Him it didn’t matter whether I heard that still, small voice of my heart right or not. He worked it all for my good regardless.

I served such a great God that even if I slipped up, fouled up, and fell down He still held my life in His hand. As long as I continued to seek His face first, trusting His plan for me it would prosper no matter what. That was His promise. He straightened my paths, so if I took a wrong turn He could redirect better than any Google Maps could do. By focusing on my ability to correctly hear His voice I was placing the power in my hands, and that’s not where it resided. When I decided to surrender my life to Him I also surrendered control, but simultaneously I also surrendered worry, fear, and anxiety. I didn’t have to worry if I was making decisions in line with His will. He was bigger than that. No mistake I made could derail His plan for me. As long as I lived my life according to His word then He could handle the rest. So yes, He gave me wisdom for day to day decisions, and those decisions were in my free-will hands, but no decision I made could usurp His will for me.

I could relax about it already! My Dad had this!

The girls checking out an RV bunk room

So as I prayed this morning I let the anxiety fall away. Whether this RV was the one or not, He would work it out. He had proven Himself to me time and time again. When I had reached the end of what I knew to do He had picked up from there. He had orchestrated our life thus far since we put it in His hands, and I was just fine with that. I could let go and enjoy life more. I could rest in Him. I still would seek Him for His wisdom, but I didn’t need to place too much merit on my ability to discern that wisdom. He could handle it all perfectly, and that fact gave me peace for my life.

The Best Things In Life Are Free

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We’re staying outside of Orlando, Florida currently. It seems like this place is the theme park central of the country. There’s so many places to go, and we haven’t done even a quarter of them. We’re here three months, but I bet even if we were here three years we wouldn’t do it all. We haven’t even been to Disney World yet! We’re a very relaxed family and enjoy simply enjoying ourselves. We don’t need a ton of frills; so most of our time has been spent mulling around the pool or other such simple pleasures. To date, our favorite thing we’ve done was visiting a state park about ten minutes from our cabin, but today even that trip was trumped.

Today we visited another natural park that was recommended by a coworker. Kelly Park/Rock Springs is a free-flowing, natural spring. It’s like they found God’s handiwork in nature, cut out the foliage just a bit to make room for parking and a concession stand, but then allowed the true beauty of the place to remain. With lifeguards and park rangers making certain the area was safe for swimming from local wildlife (just as my coworker had promised) we were able to enjoy ourselves a bit more without too much fear of a gator attack. Lol. This made my Aunt Paula feel better.

On the drive there (which was a nice, traffic-free, and close one) we noticed a few neighborhoods. They sported rows upon rows of massive, cookie-cutter homes in lines as far as the eye could see. I wondered to myself if the owners had the time to enjoy them, or if they worked most days until it was dark to afford the mortgage. There was no judgement in my thoughts, and certainly no feelings of covetous for the property. There would have been once upon a time if I’m being totally honest, but that was before I began to change my way of thinking.

The best things in life are free. And though we did pay $5 (total) to enjoy our day at Kelly Park, the parts that made it most worthwhile were absolutely free. As I watched my children play in the sand, and my husband eyeing a crane fishing, I thanked the Lord for them. I thanked him for the crystal blue sky, without a cloud in it, for the way the breeze blew the palm fronds, and how my toes felt as I buried them in the sand. Some things mattered in life, and other things didn’t matter so much. It felt good to enjoy another day focusing and savoring the things that really counted the most, yet didn’t cost a dime.

What I Want My Daughters To Remember

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We stood in the steamy shower spray, and as my middle daughter looked into my eyes with pure glee I felt a mixture of emotions. It was that kind of speedy onslaught of thoughts that cascades all at once. Things like, how did I get so blessed? How is this my life? Did I really make this? She’s really mine! She’s amazing.

At that moment her beauty was unsurpassed, and as she excitedly proclaimed, “lift me up in the water,” childhood memories of my own flitted through my mind.

My first childhood memory, the first memory I can recall anyway, was of taking a shower with my mother. It’s vivid. I recall the way the warm water felt on my skin, the exhilaration of it pounding from above, but mostly the total trust and adoration I felt when I looked into the eyes of my wet, happy mother. Even to this day a hot shower is my most favorite thing. You see, the memories that are worthy of holding on to, the ones that remain though the vast passage of years, those are the ones that shape you for the rest of your life. Anyone who has experienced great hurt, or triumphant love can attest to this. The things we remember are often who we become.

Yesterday I stood still, bent down in an attentive posture, and I listened to the wandering, whispered storytelling of my five year old. You know the ones I mean. The “hey mom, do you remember that time” ones. We were trying to get from Point A to Point B in the museum we were visiting, but at that moment my attention was on her. Her and her honestly, mostly pointless story. But not pointless to her. It wasn’t so much the story she told I wanted to hear, but her understanding that it all mattered to me. I wanted her to know mom was listening. Always.

Last night as I lay in bed thinking about our fun-filled day I realized that in a not-to-distant past I had not always been so patient and attentive. In fact, as I sadly recalled I realized much of my time over the past two and half years had been spent in some sort of harried race, and the weirdest part was I was the one judging the winner. No one was forcing me to rush about; certainly not my kids. No, I was mostly on a time clock of my own making. And sure we had responsibilities and activities that required us to be at a certain place at a certain time, but in all reality much of the rush was my design. It’s like you get in a habit of hurrying, and you end up knowing no other way.

I found that I was the one placing more activities on the agenda. And for what? Were dance class and gymnastics really required for a fully rounded four year old? Did I really need to commit myself to as much as I did, or pickup the extra jobs I just knew I needed to complete? Were the additional field trips and travel for five minutes of fun worthwhile? And while the memories in the making are always fantastic, isn’t it null and void if Mom is in a bad mood? Then for us, of course, Dad was far too busy working every single day to join his family in it all. Where would Dad exist in the memories?

Next thing I knew, in my hurried existence, I found myself rushing to the grocery store, rushing through homeschool lessons, and rushing to the library, like picking up a fun book to read was an added chore. It was as if even the supposed fun stuff became another labored task, and though the girls said they had fun I wondered if they noticed. Could it be better than it was? I thought so.

Life as a parent is hard, no matter how you slice it, but it gets to a point where you’re tired of trying to keep your head above water. I’m not sure when in this world we stopped living the dream and instead measuring it against some societal standard of perfection parenting. We think if we walk the walk, dress our kids in the right clothes, send them to the right schools, or have them on the perfect sports team then things will get better. We’ll still be rushing, but we’ll have a trophy and picture to share on Facebook, so it will be worth it, right? Turns out the short-lived “like” isn’t all it was cracked up to be. We lose sight of satisfaction in the everyday mundane, and joy over the little things is overshadowed by this made-up responsibility we place on ourselves. We run and run, and run. For what? We’re stressed out in a time when our life should be the fullest. Our hearts and home should be full of peace and love, not anxiety and self-expectation.

I’m, as always, a work in progress, but I am headed in the right direction. I’m getting there by doing less. In this world we think the more we do the better things will be. The harder we work, the easier it will get. The more we put into a project, and the better it turns out, the happier we will be. I call this Pinterest Syndrome. It seems, though, that most of us normal folks just end up feeling The Pinterest Fail instead (#momfail). I hate that term.

So I decided something had to give, and it turned out it was me giving up a lot. Giving up the false idea of what mattered in life. It wasn’t more stuff, more name brands, or a bigger house. It wasn’t a bigger name for myself. It wasn’t more success for my children in multiple activities. It wasn’t what my small town thought, my small group thought, or my own small mind thought. It was what the Lord wanted for our family. Isn’t that the most important part? How do we all so easily miss that? I’m asking myself too, you understand.

If it’s the memories that make our children the adults they will become then that’s what I want to focus on. I want to focus on family, time together, and God’s will for our life. I want to be calm in the carrying out of motherhood and not be rushing to make memories happen (like we all tend to do). I just want them to happen, and then I want to be present enough that I can enjoy them too. They notice that, you know. They notice genuine smiles from mom and dad, they notice when you listen, for real listen, and they notice when you take pleasure in them. It’s so easy to get distracted from enjoying your family by the demands of life. But if my daughters remember anything from their childhood, I want them to remember that I enjoyed it too. I want them to know they can enjoy life to the fullest as they grow older, even when life is full.

The Thing About My Daughters’ Easter Dresses

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As I sit writing this blog all my children sleep, while visions of chocolate bunnies dance in their heads, and I can smell the clean scent of watermelon shampoo wafting from their still-damp heads. After a full day of playing outside an extra scrubbing was needed, and they will be nice and clean for church in the morning. But this year I find myself relaxing in bed rather than my typical, last-minute scurrying about, laying out color-coordinated, ruffled dresses, white panty hose, shiny shoes, and dainty purses. In fact, their clothes are still sitting in the suitcase. Talk about change!

Over the past few months our focus had changed dramatically. I had minimalized everyone’s closets, and now we all just had a lot less. Every since having my first daughter I fell in love with dressing a darling girl. I would stop at a department store on my break from work, going through the aisles of tiny, adorable outfits, and I would almost always leave with something new and precious. After seven years of this and two more girls brought into the family, I found myself with ruffle pants, monogrammed shirts, and smocked dresses coming out of my ears. I was drowning in darling dresses and pink pinafores. So I whittled them down.

This also came along the time of our decision to travel, so packing up and moving with a dozen outfits versus hundreds is much more practical, and easier to fit in small spaces. Our most recent journey has taken us to the warm weather of Cental Florida. As such I had packed away the winter clothing we had and placed it in storage. I had kept roughly two summer dresses apiece for each of the girls (which is a miracle in itself for a former clothes horse), but I had absolutely nothing for cooler weather. No hose, no dressy cardigans, and certainly no shiny shoes. It just didn’t fit into the new plan. Sun dresses and flip flops I had, but as I checked the weather for a trip back home to Mississippi I was met with a forecast of rain and cool temperatures. So as I packed our suitcase I resigned myself to the fact that this year would be different.

As I packed the only cool-weather outfit I had for my five year old (something more appropriate for working out than Easter Sunday photos) I smiled. I smiled that it didn’t really matter.

My girls didn’t have any Easter dresses. They didn’t have any panty hose or patent leather shoes. No flower hats with matching purses. And that was okay. Here’s what we had instead.

On Friday I asked my seven year old why the day was called Good Friday, and she answered perfectly.

“What’s so good about Jesus dying?” I asked. “Why is that good?”

“Because He died for us. And He didn’t stay dead. He rose again.” She answered quickly.

That same day I had asked my five year old, “why do we celebrate Easter anyway?”

“Cause Jesus died on the cross for our sins,” she sang happily.

Then she added, “He even died for bad people. He died for everybody cause He loves us all!”

This made me smile, and it makes me smile now as I lay in bed the night before Resurrection Sunday. My daughters will not have Easter Sunday dresses this year, but they will have a clear understanding of why the day is so very special to us. They will understand what is truly important about Easter. It’s not matching outfits for pretty pictures. It’s Jesus. And it’s not Easter baskets (which we also got rid of). It’s Jesus.

They get that it’s not about bunnies and chicks, but about The Lamb. And while we have egg hunts and chocolate candies (cause who doesn’t adore Cadbury eggs), they understand what the best gift of Easter truly is. In the morning they’ll find collapsible sand buckets (great for a traveling family like ours) filled with jelly beans and a special, unique treat from Mom and Dad. They’ll visit with family, hunt eggs, eat yummy food, and fall into a sugary coma from a chocolate rabbit. Those are all wonderful things! But they’ll also know those aren’t the best things. Those aren’t the most important things.

Many times in this life we are all guilty of placing a bit too much value on the “window dressing.” You know; the stuff that fills up our days and minds that really doesn’t matter. We fuss about these things when they’re not perfect. Our tempers get short over the little things, and we find ourselves on Sunday morning angry that our kids can’t look just right, get out the door on time, and look the part that we all play unaware. Next thing we know our focus is on all the wrong aspects of life, and we unknowingly pass along this skewed outlook to our children. Importance is placed on what others think, but not on what our Savior desires for our lives. I get it. It’s an easy trap to fall into, and it’s a slope I even have to pull myself out of still from time to time.

As always, and as you’ve heard me say a time or two, I’m a work in progress over here. I’m trying to keep myself reminded of what’s important in life. It’s all about keeping an eternal perspective, and saying to myself, “does this have a lasting impact from a Kingdom view?” So will people remember what I wore, or will they remember how I treated them? Will my children remember how much stuff we had, or will they remember the experiences we enjoyed together? Will they remember the dresses they wore on Easter Sunday, or will they remember the joy they felt over finally understanding the impact of Jesus’ Resurrection power? I know what I’ll remember.

What Saturdays Are Like Now

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As I stood in the public shower of Lake Louisa State Park helping my seven year old wash large, hard grains of sand off her calves I smiled at her barely visible snaggle-toothed smile. Cascades of dirty blond hair fell over her face, and for about the billionth time I fell madly in love with my firstborn.

“Are you having fun on this trip,” I asked.

Because it was important to me that this worked for them too.

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “I’m excited to go for a hike!”

“I don’t just mean today,” I answered. “I mean the whole trip, living in a new place?”

“It’s awesome!” She answered happily. “There’s so much to do, so many things to see, and new people to meet that me and Bailey don’t even fight anymore like we did at home! We’re having too much fun to fight!

Her comment made me smile even further, and I could certainly relate to the circumstances she described. I couldn’t really explain what had shifted, but it wasn’t just our geographical location that had changed. Our mindset had changed. A life that had seemed so stressful and hurried suddenly didn’t seem so much. Here’s my best example.

The other day we went grocery shopping. Grocery shopping, especially with three, young children, has not always been my favorite thing. In fact, I didn’t like it at all. It was a chore. It was this thing I had to do, that seemed like just one more thing to complete. I was always flustered, rushed, and aggravated. We would plow through WalMart Supercenter on two wheels, me throwing Danimals and fruit snacks at my toddler to keep her tamed, and I would hate it.

So here I found myself on a Wednesday afternoon leisurely strolling through Publix, and it hit me how good this large, grocery shopping trip felt. I sashayed through the frozen foods and commented to my husband, “this is so nice.”

He agreed.

I beamed with the fact that I didn’t feel rushed. I was simply enjoying myself. I didn’t feel like I was completing a chore, even though I was. I just felt relaxed. To the max.

As we were driving home from our Saturday, day trip to a State Park a few miles from where we were currently staying I grasped my husband’s hand tightly.

“I love you,” I said. “All the times over the years I took the children places I always missed the fact you couldn’t be with us. This is wonderful!”

He agreed.

Before my husband worked all the time and our relaxing days together were far and few in between. Even on his off day he would be doing things for the store. Now I was working, but just three days a week. So the other four felt like we were on vacation. Over the past year we had gotten weary of the daily grind that was called the American Dream. It seemed crazy to work all the time for a huge house you didn’t even have time to enjoy, rush here and there to multiple obligations, and spend more time on to-do lists then you did simply enjoying each other’s company. So that’s changing for us.

The decision to become a fulltime family, and spending more time together has been the right one. We’re downsizing, traveling, and focusing on what’s important in life. We still have a mortgage at home, with our house still on the market, but we are actively working to pay down debt and dropping unnecessary materialistic possessions that have kept us stressed and chained down. It’s a process, but one I am happy to be a part of.

Today in our temporary, Florida home we went to Lake Louisa State Park. Here’s some pictures from our day.

The boardwalk to Lake Louisa swimming beach.

A little marshy!

Ben in the background checking for critters.

Playground on the beach.

All smiles!

Take notice of the tea-colored water.

There it is.

Seriously looks like tea!

I didn’t let them go much deeper than that, but some people swam far out.

Stunning!

Ben reading the gator notice. Swim at your own risk!

This isn’t the swimming area of Lake Louisa, but another lake in the park called Lake Dixie. This is a fishing pier. That’s an alligator that swam right up to the pier. A local fishing there said he’s never seen one do that, that someone must have been feeding it. Lucky sighting for us.

I’ve never seen an alligator in the wild before, nor so close.

The baby waving at the alligator.

Even the drive through the park was neat. It’s cool to see how local woodlands look in different parts of the world. State parks are definitely our fave. We plan to visit many!