Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Stepping Out in Faith Isn’t as Hard as I Always Thought

by

This morning I was reading in the book of James again. There’s a lot packed into such a small book of the Bible, so it didn’t matter that I had just finished it last night. I started it over this morning, and then I jumped to Galatians. Funny how the Spirit leads, and I smiled as both chapters I had read from those particular books talked about the faith of Abraham.

Abraham. He’s the founding father of us all, that guy whose faith was counted as righteousness, and something we can all desire to be like. Although I am not sure I’d pass the test if God asked me to sacrifice my daughter on the altar. And I guess that’s what God talked to me about this morning. Faith, and how/why the stepping out in it part isn’t as bad as I had always imagined.

I bounced back and forth this morning between verses of the importance of faith in action, deeds that went along with the faith we proclaimed. Abraham had not known where God was going to have him end up, but when God said go, he did. It reminded me of our own experience in the fall of 2017.

God had spoken something very unusual to us. He had told us to go.

Go?! We had just bought our home, didn’t even have our last baby out of diapers. How was that supposed to work?!

But He had said it. The interesting part to me, in hindsight, is that we never doubted it. Y’all, I have doubts about my ability to always hear God correctly, but in this instance I knew without a doubt. My husband knew too, and that surprised me. For a man normally so contemplative when it came to God’s will, even he seemed solid as a rock. We just knew what we were supposed to do, and we did it.

There were naysayers. People we loved and respected questioned our decision. The world at large questioned our decision. I mean, why would anyone want to sell all the stuff they had worked twenty years to obtain? Why would you drag your children away from family and friends? Why would you trade a safe, comfortable job, retirement vested, for an uncertain, possibly unstable one? Why would you trade 2,200 square feet for 200?! It didn’t make sense to the world, I’m sure, but it made sense to us. Why was that?

I had always been a collector of things. I had things I had obtained from all around the world, and after my mother (a fellow collector) had passed away, I also held her things. I loved my things. Really, really loved them. Yet when I felt like God said to get rid of it all, it wasn’t an issue. I took a corner, gave myself 15 minutes, and I sorted into give, sell, or toss piles. I did it with my whole house. Everything. Gone.

My daughters loved their toys. Like, seriously loved their toys. Yet when I gave them one rubber-made tote and said, “fill it with what you want, the rest is going away,” they jumped at the chance. It didn’t make any sense to me, but they never complained. They never cried. In fact, they made a game of it. It was as if they enjoyed taking a room full of toys and paring it down into a little box. They smiled as they showed me their chosen treasures. Weird, right?

I read about Abraham this morning, and I thought back to when God told us to go. I remembered how easy it had all been. Despite the challenges, we had gone through with it. Despite the naysayers, we had moved forward. Despite the uncertainty and wackiness of the Word, we had left our home with a few suitcases and even less boxes, and we had hit the road to go wherever God said to go. I remember being scared, a little anxious at times, but nowhere near as bonkers as you would think a total life shift would make me. I took my children to a new city, with nowhere long term to shelter, a job that could fall through at any moment, and we had a ball. We loved it!

Now we live in an RV, and we live each day still with a “whatcha got next, God” attitude. I realize that when the Lord asks you to walk out your faith, He doesn’t ask you to walk alone. When the Lord requires deeds to follow the faith you profess, He gives you the strength to carry it out. I realized that a couple of years ago when we struck out for the unknown, we were able to move forward because God willed it. There was nothing extraordinary about us or our faith. He had simply given us the ability to step out in what He asked us to do. He had stripped away our flesh, and He had led us in Spirit. After all, our flesh would have flipped out at what we were doing back then, but our Spirits had simply obeyed.

It helped me understand that no matter what God has in store for our future, He will equip us to walk in it. It will never be something we must do on our own strength and might. All He asks is for a heart that seeks His, a heart that listens for next step directions, never being so distracted by the noise of the world, that you never hear His suggestion. After all, God never makes us do anything. He simply asks. It’s up to us if we will hear, and what we will do after that. I recognized today that we never have to worry that we can’t do what He asks, because He never asks us to do something He isn’t willing to make a way for. Where we lack, He will act. And looking back you’ll marvel at how stepping out was so easy.

Making it Not Meaningless

by

God is doing something in me. I’m not yet sure what that is, but it’s something. Do you ever feel that way?

Three years ago my husband and I had reached an odd place in life. We found ourselves for the first time feeling anxious, downtrodden, and like things just weren’t right. We didn’t know what it was, but we knew who we could turn to in times of trouble. With that in mind we both took a greater interest in scripture. I mean, we had liked the Bible before, but at this stage in our life it became a deep need. We were thirsty, and God’s Word became our water. We were feeling empty, and His Bread of Life became our sustenance. We loved life, but we knew there was more than what we were doing to live it. I suppose that empty, strange time taught me that feeling like you’re lacking isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps it’s just God forcing you to seek a solution.

Towards the end of 2017 we realized that God had big change in mind. We sold everything we owned. We left our dream house behind. We left family we loved. And most importantly, we left what was known and comfortable. I mean, being in your comfort zone isn’t the best thing in life, but it can sure feel that way when God leads you towards the unknown. Uncertainty is scary, but I discovered that’s where you go to find your faith.

Today as I talked to the Lord about what was rumbling around in my head lately, I felt the leading to read Ecclesiastes. Ugh. I had always found it such a depressing read. Meaningless?! The guy just droned on and on about how life sucked. Or that’s the way I remembered it anyway. Funny how your perception can change.

Today I found myself nodding along. I had sought wisdom, gone to college, gotten that degree and dependable job my dad had suggested. I had enjoyed my toil, finding pleasure in helping others in healthcare. Certainly nothing wrong with that. I had worked hard, built my credit score, and got the house I always wanted. I had beautiful baby girls and all the fancy frills that went along with it. I had obtained the perfect life, and I was happy!

Then I had let go of all the things I had worked so hard for. Not because they weren’t enjoyable gifts. I let them go because I knew there was more. If the past month during a pandemic has taught me anything, it’s that there’s more for us here on earth. When you watch the world (as you know it) fall apart, you’re reminded how little you actually fish for men. When existence on this side of Heaven is questioned, you recognize that a kingdom mindset is the only one that really matters. It’s the one that’s not meaningless.

What an unpopular opinion that one is, you know? Society today knows little else than to toil. We have been raised to believe that is what gives us value in our lives. How hard we can work to achieve stability and station. Nothing like a nationwide lockdown to show things in a different light, eh?

Over the past couple of years I have discovered how to put my trust completely and totally in Jesus. We asked Him where to work, where to live, and how to go through each day. Where do we sow our time, our money, our focus, Lord? And as we asked, He answered.

This afternoon I found myself feeling like even though I had yanked myself from the familiar to the unknown, it still wasn’t quite far enough. It’s like once you’ve touched the hem of His garment, the rest seems fairly mundane. As I walked further from the pleasures of the world, I felt Him whisper, “just a little bit more.”

What is God doing in me right now? I’m not sure. I do know each day He leads me closer, and He shows me what’s important in life. I know the Lord wants His children to be happy. I mean, I bought my daughters some electronic tablets during this quarantine. I know it’s not the best thing in this world for their little minds, but I do know it gives them joy too. My Heavenly Father smiles at me enjoying life, enjoying my gifts, enjoying myself. That’s not meaningless. I suppose it’s just good to remember that the happy gifts aren’t always the lasting gifts. The lasting gifts are relationships, appreciation of the people in my life, and fulfilling the role God has for me in this life.

I felt like God told me today, “it’s not for you to have the knowledge of good and evil. It’s for you to have the knowledge of my love. Life without my love is meaningless.”

So, what’s God doing in my life right now? I’m not completely sure. But I imagine it has something to do with helping more people gain the knowledge of His love.

No, I’m Not Buying a House

by

I think everyone totally understood my vagabond lifestyle when I was traveling as a nurse, but now that I have decided to stick around an area more permanently, people just assume I’ll put down roots in a traditional sense. I mean, that’s what you’re supposed to do. Especially if you’re a middle-aged mom, wife, and working professional. For those reading this who are unfamiliar with my lifestyle, my family and I travel in an RV. The craziest part? We do it by choice.

When my husband, three daughters, and I were traveling across the country while I worked at different hospitals, I suppose it just made sense that we’d move place to place in our fifth wheel. It gave our children a greater sense of stability having the same bedroom wherever we went, and we had developed a “home is where you park it” kinda motto. But ever since I announced the decision to stop travel nursing and sign on as a staff (permanent) nurse at a specific hospital, I’ve gotten the same question over and over.

So, are y’all gonna buy a house now?

My answer is always the same, and though it may shock those who inquire, when I explain my reasoning, they get behind me with it. You see, I’m not buying a house. We’re going to keep living in our RV. That’s right, five people in 500 square feet, and nope, we’re not crazy.

If I’ve learned anything over the last few years, it’s that much of the life we create is out of habit rather than necessity. We choose the life we do because that’s the way it’s always been, or the way it’s supposed to be. Folks get married, get pregnant, buy a house, buy a bigger car, and subsequently buy bigger debt with their bigger “more successful” life. It’s as if happiness comes on the back of mortgages and car notes, or that contentment comes only by checking a certain box on the “I’m a grownup now” worksheet. Yet when we build a bigger, better life, it usually comes with not just a larger price tag, but also a truckload of stress. So, I guess you could say, we create our lifestyle, yet we also create our stress. Or much of it, anyway.

From our personal experience, we found the bigger lifestyle (as far as square footage and belongings go) created a bigger sense of urgency. I had more dusting and laundry. My husband had more yard work and “honey do” lists. We both certainly worked more. For us, it just seemed like the lifestyle that society had always told us would make us happy only made us more rushed and busy. Traveling in an RV wasn’t just a convenience for work, but rather a decision for future happiness. And boy, did it exceed our expectations.

We found that we could live happily in 1/4 the space we had become accustomed to in our prior, traditional lifestyle (let’s call it living in a sticks and bricks). Turns out we didn’t need even half of the stuff we sold or gave away when we downsized. It’s actually not just a way to cut down on material possessions and re-evaluate what’s important in life, but it’s also a great way to payoff debt! Cause debt is crippling, am I right?! When I tell people my monthly living expenses (in a popular and large metropolitan area) are $200 a month (yep, that includes my utilities), they’re usually like, “yeah, I think I’d stay in the RV too!”

The fact is, a happy life isn’t built on two stories and a white picket fence. It’s built around the ones you love. It’s not held together by how much you have, or even how it looks to those on the outside, but rather by the ties that bind you. For us, that’s time together, less time working, and more time enjoying ourselves. It’s less time running here and there, and more time simply enjoying life. It’s less stress and more smiles.

So, while our circumstances have changed, our priorities have not. We don’t stay in the RV for necessity with traveling, but simply because it’s worked so far. Why change anything? Will we buy a house in the future? Perhaps. But it will be small. This tiny life fits us just fine, and I’ll tell you a secret. Going small has given us big happiness.

Btw, this was our Christmas card one year

Investing in the Future

by

Today I was going through an app that allows me to see pictures I posted on social media from the time I had a smartphone, and as I was swiping left I came across a cherished photo. It was a black and white shot of my firstborn from six years ago, and I felt a bittersweet ache in my heart that got stuck as an emotional lump in my throat. As I gazed at the precious memory my eldest girl walked up.

Y’all, my child has gotten so tall, and when I saw her standing over my lounge chair poolside, in contrast to the tiny, chubby-cheeked babe on my phone, I was struck straight through the heart, as if an arrow representing the swift passage of time had pierced through to my marrow.

The most peculiar part, to me, was that I didn’t remain melancholy over how fast it all goes. Instead I felt a sense of contented joy, like everything was progressing as it should. I had zero regret for the things I should of/could of done, and though I wasn’t claiming a perfect parenting plan, I was pleased with our journey thus far. I didn’t feel so much like it was a cruel, fleeting season, but rather one I was savoring with vigor.

When I first became I mother I realized it was my greatest responsibility and most enjoyable tasking of life. I quickly discovered I wanted nothing more than to leave my nine to five and find a way to mother more. I was blessed at the time to find a position at my hospital where I could work less and be home more with little financial difference. Cause, come on, although a lot of men and/or women desire to see their children more, it doesn’t seem like it can always work out that way. I never took for granted the opportunity I had been afforded to spend time with my children while also working as a bedside nurse.

As life changed and seasons followed suit, I found circumstances altered, but my greatest goal never changed. Here’s what I didn’t want. I didn’t want other people raising my babies. They were my reward, and I didn’t want to hand that prize to another. But more than that, they were my legacy, my responsibility (which I took very seriously), and the ministry God had given me for this particular time of my life. I knew that my largest and most monumental heart desire was to be able to instill in my children the things I had been unaware of until adulthood. I wanted to raise them wholly aware of God’s hand in their life, and I desired to equip them with the wisdom of knowing they were not alone in the battles they faced. I needed them to see firsthand how joy-filled a life serving the Lord could be. I wanted them to have the opportunity to see things it had taken me forty years to discover.

This hefty, utmost knowledge I knew couldn’t be passed along in a thirty minute Sunday School lesson. It was something that must be instilled, but also modeled. It was something I had to walk out, showing them daily, and I wanted to be able to do it. As parents, my husband and I have made sacrifices to maintain our goals. We have downsized and let go of materialistic treasures, in favor of investing in what we consider our Heavenly Treasure. Our babies. To gain time with them we had to let go of the things that stole our time from them. I’m grateful we were given the desire and insight to make this work.

Not that I’ve obtained it yet, like, where I totally want to be, but I can look backwards and see improvement over time. Heck, a mere two-three years ago I was stuck in the hamster wheel too. I was running ragged, overbooking my schedule, over-extending myself, and sadly teaching my children that was normal. We were always going, rushing, and trying to fill commitments that weren’t necessary. Laundry was a chore, grocery shopping grueling, and the supper-time crunch exasperating. Why we call this normal, I’ll never know. I guess because it’s the way it’s always been, but with the addition of everyone critiquing our lives as we narrate them, or coveting how smoothly someone else’s story appears.

Thankfully, I can now proceed without regret, knowing I’m investing the most in what matters most. I don’t feel like I’m missing out on my children’s childhood. I have a ringside seat to their life. We homeschool largely in part because of our desire to not miss the majority of their life. I saw a story recently of schools possibly extending their hours. Can you imagine?!

We found an area of the country where we can work less but make a larger income, and on top of that we found a way to cut down our expenses. It was scary leaving our comfort zones, but totally worth it in the end. As the world gets faster and the focus convoluted, I see more people choosing to do things the way we are doing. Downsizing, minimalizing, and seeking opportunities to focus on family more. I’m thankful we realized it’s okay to step outside of the norm and pursue something different. Almost every day I see people voice their unhappiness with the pace of their life or with the lack of quality time with loved ones.

I guess I would just say to every discontented parent, “you can do it!” If you’re not happy with life, change it. Don’t be afraid to try something new. Don’t be afraid to step out of your comfort zone. Don’t be worried about what other people think, and don’t be scared to fail. You will never know if your life can improve if you stay stuck in your rut. Break out.

Maybe you’re happy with the way things are. That’s wonderful! But if you’re not consider this post your call to duty. It’s time to invest in what’s important in life, and it’s the people you love. I took care of a patient once who was on his death bed. In pleasant conversation I had told his wife about my life, how I traveled in an RV with my family, homeschooling, working a little, and having fun a lot. She was intrigued and enamored, as most people are, but I’ll never forget her words.

“I wish we had done that.”

You see, they had wanted to travel as a family, but they had waited. They waited until things settled down. They waited until a certain season passed. They waited until Junior finished school. Then they waited until retirement. One month into traveling her husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

“It’s too late now,” she had said.

Consider this your wake up call, your sign, if you will. Don’t wait another minute to follow your dreams and spend time doing what you love. You just think there’s no way out, but there’s always another way. It may involve sacrifice, and it might be frightening. People may try and talk you out of it, but I am encouraging you to try anyway. You will never know unless you take that step, and you’ll only regret what you didn’t do.

How to Find Your Happy

by

I could probably gripe about a lot of things that annoy me when working as a nurse, but if I had to pinpoint my biggest frustration it would probably be computer problems. Like, ugh. Since when do I have to be an IT Specialist?!

I’ve been charting electronically for eighteen years or so, and in all that time I’ve discovered the number one fix when having computer trouble.

You call the Help Desk (appropriately named), and you plead, “help me! My screen is frozen!”

I mean, you just wanna finish charting. You have sooooo much to do and so little time.

Usually the IT person will fire back with, “have you restarted your computer?”

“I need you to turn it off, give it about fifteen seconds, then turn it back on.”

Reboot. Unplug. Reminds me of calling Comcast Cable. Am I right?!

The IT guy will take control of my mouse and locate some screen I didn’t know existed where he’ll “end” the running programs. Heck, I’ve had instances where I had a handful of programs running at once and didn’t even realize it.

A couple of years ago I realized I wasn’t as happy as I knew I should/could be. I mean, I was happy for my family, time with my husband and kids, our home, and the nuggets of great moments mingled here and there, but something wasn’t right. I loved my life, but it’s like the program wasn’t running like it should. I was frozen by anxiety, stalled by worry, and run down with fatigue. It turns out I had too many tabs open on my dashboard, and I was running more programs than my server could handle. I wasn’t operating at full speed, and I seriously needed to delete some cookies, but not being very techy, I didn’t have a clue.

Remember that movie “How Stella Got Her Groove Back?” Well, I guess I could have titled this post appropriately as, “How Brie Got Her Happy Back.”

Remember how the Help Desk always tells you to turn off your computer, or to end your multiple programs? Well, when I cried out for help in life, God came back that I had too many tabs open. It was overwhelming. I wasn’t running at my full potential of joy because I was running too many irrelevant programs. I had to delete some cookies. Empty the trash.

I started with unplugging. I stopped running and got real quiet. Once I turned off my anxious mind and sought the Lord for what was important in life, I was able to hear His direction. I had to close some tabs. I had to evaluate what I could close out, and what I needed to keep open.

I decluttered not just my mind, but also my life. I stopped activities that weren’t building up my relationship with my family. That direct sales business that was consuming me? I let it go. All the clothes I had to wash? I gave them away. All the trinkets I had to dust? I sold them. The big house I couldn’t keep clean? I let it go. The busy tasks that I thought I needed to do to be a “good mom?” I stopped. The comparisons of myself to other women? I turned my eyes from others, and instead I sought the Lord.

“What do you want for my family, God?”

All the things I had thought were important, I realized they were not so much.

I asked myself, “is this ________ leading my children closer to the Lord? Is is glorifying Jesus? Is it building my witness? Is it built in love, and does it display God’s love to others?”

If the answer was “no,” then I re-evaluated if that was a tab I needed to keep open, or if it was bogging down my productivity.

If it was keeping me busy, but not making me fulfilled, I let it go. Y’all, you’ve never seen such a decluttering. Not only did I sell or give away furniture I had accumulated over a twenty year period, but I also trashed false ideas the enemy had planted in my mind over several decades. I let go of fear over things I couldn’t change, and I got rid of material possessions that took up my time and money. We re-evaluated how much we worked. If we downsized our life, couldn’t we also downsize our work week? The answer was yes. If we got a smaller home and less cars, couldn’t we gain more time together? Absolutely. If we dumped our full schedule and let go of our preconceived notions of how our life should look, we found a hidden treasure.

It was our happiness. Peace in simplicity. A feeling of fulfillment in simple pleasures. A healthy operating system that ran more smoothly with less windows open. The to-do list got chiseled down, and the moments of quiet increased. The problem is, we live in a society that celebrates busy! The fuller your plate, the more successful you must be. But we debunked that myth. We live in a world that says more is better, and then we wonder why our days at work drag like a slow internet connection, or our off days disappear like a hastily deleted file. I’ll tell you a secret. More isn’t better; it’s only overwhelming your system.

Running from one thing to another is typically something people brag about, but then they wonder why everyone in the family falls apart prior to bedtime. Wives and husbands are craving a date night because their schedules are too full for everyday moments together. Families are on countdown for vacation so they can escape the hectic pace of their life. Why is it this way?

When our systems break down either physically, emotionally, or mentally, we cry out to God, “why?!”

And He’s just shaking His head, “I told you to be still.”

Perhaps the cure for anxiety is letting go. Maybe the solution to financial worry is getting rid of the root of the problem. I’m saying that I think the secret to finding your happy is in the action of taking your eyes off the things that cause you stress. Everyone laments about their stressful life and full schedule, but how many are actually finding a solution? If you’ve got too many files open, close them out! If you’re holding on to problems you cannot change, people who cause you pain, and past hurts, then it’s time to delete the cookies. Empty the trash. Unplug. Give your system a break, and when you restart, I’d consider removing all the dangerous files.

I had to get to a point in life where I said, “is this impacting my eternity or my children’s salvation?”

No? Then I’m letting it go.

I asked, “does this have a kingdom impact? Is it glorifying God?”

No? Bye-bye.

And finally, “is it done it love?”

If it’s not done in love or showing His love, then I’m not really about it. I can be happy at my job, because I’m showing His love. I can be happy with less stuff, because I have all I need. Love. I can do less activities that keep me busy, and spend more time loving my family. For my husband and me, every day together is like a date night. When thoughts come to my mind that cause me anxiety or depression I’m immediately questioning, “but is this love.” God doesn’t give me thoughts that aren’t centered or from a place of His love for me. Even His conviction is from His love, but fear never is. When I clear my mind of the outside noise, I can more easily clear it of the inside noise. Interesting how that works.

So, how do you find your happy? By looking for it! It’s just not found where you think. It’s not found in a bigger house and fatter bank account. It’s not found in pay raises and job promotions. It’s not even found in a trip to The Happiest Place on Earth (sorry Mickey fans). Are you ready for it? Your happy is found right where you are. It’s right here. It’s directly in front of you and in your grasp. You just can’t see it for all the distractions. You’re running too many tabs all at once and holding on to files you should have gotten rid of long ago. If you’re crying out to the Help Desk, I can tell you already, they’re gonna ask if you’ve turned it off.

Restart. Reboot. End Program. Because you can only run on so much before you crash.

How I Made Laundry With a Large Family Stress-Free

by

I think one of the most dreaded words in a mom’s mind is laundry. I never particularly hated it, but I did have to admit it took a huge chunk of my life. Because it never ended. It was a continuous cycle of washing, drying, folding, and putting away. I had a huge laundry chair. It was like a mini sofa, and I usually had piles of clean laundry surrounded by little stacks of half-folded clothing. Thank goodness no one actually needed to sit in that chair. They’d be out of luck!

I hear a lot of women complaining about their own endless laundry cycles, and I get it. Totally. I never really minded the washing part, but after that it usually unraveled. I mean, I wish I had a dollar for every time I forgot the wet clothes in the washer. That would usually mean washing them again. Heck, sometimes I’d be so busy that I remembered to put them in the dryer, but would forget to start it! Typically, though, they lay dormant in the dryer for much of the week.

“Honey,” my husband would ask. “Have you seen my favorite shorts?”

I’d call out, “have you checked the dryer?”

Yep. The dryer. The land where clothing is forgotten. No problem, though. There was always more clothes to choose from in the abundant closets and drawers.

Ah, yes. The closets. God gave me girls, and with my first daughter I discovered I loved dressing them! I would stop on my lunch break to buy a new outfit, or I would frequent consignment sales for frilly, Sunday dresses. I would hang them neatly in a row. We could have a new dress for each church day of the season, and of course shoes to match! I loved little pajama sets, ruffle pants, and well, basically anything. I loved buying little girl clothing!

Now, here’s what rarely happened. The clothes getting put away in a timely manner. Never could get to it. One pile became two, and only when they were falling down would I rush to put stuff away. My daughters weren’t much help. Even when they did start getting old enough to help put clothes away, they were overwhelmed by the task. As overwhelmed as me. I had to hang the dresses for them, and their drawers were usually too packed for them to add anything to them.

Here are some laundry facts pertaining to children:

Children get dirty. They use their sleeves as napkins, they like playing in dirt and mud, and if they’re eating, it will end up on their clothes.

In fact, if you say, “be careful not to get that ______ on your shirt,” they will definitely get it on their shirt.

Children put clean laundry in the dirty laundry.

You ask, “how did this basket get so full so quick?!”

Easy answer. They put clean clothes in there. They put clothes they tried on for two seconds in there. They put clothes they didn’t want to put away in there. They change clothes frequently for no reason, and it all ends up in there. They don’t do laundry. They’re not mindful of what they put in there. You will probably find doll clothes, stuff that hasn’t fit in over a year, and clothes you were certain you got rid of in the dirty clothes basket.

You cannot keep up with children’s laundry. The moment you wash it all, they are in the process of dirtying more. So you never really finish.

Accept this and come along with me. Doing laundry with children is a bad deal, but I feel like I finally figured out how to make the best of it.

We downsized. The cluttered closets and overflowing drawers? We got rid of it. All of it. I had boxes and bags of favorite dresses I passed down through my daughters, but then I also bought more. It. Was. Too. Much. The majority of us have too much! We spend a fortune back-to-school shopping, and half of what we buy is so our children look good. For other people. It’s silly. Hey, I did it myself. I bought outfits that photographed well. I bought outfits that were for a single event, such as Easter, a wedding, or a party. So, not only did I waste money, but I also created a never-ending supply of clothes to get dirty. It’s a fact. The more clothes you have, the more laundry you do.

This is a picture of totes my children put their clothes in. It was hard to give up all the many, many cute outfits I had “invested” in, but we really had too much. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit your kids have too much also. We can’t really keep complaining about the problems we create. I mean, we can, but it’s much better to solve them instead.

I cut the girls’ wardrobes down to enough articles of clothing to last them about two weeks at the most. I also did this for myself. It was really hard, but if you take an inventory of your closet you’ll realize you only wear maybe 1/4 of it anyway.

If I had not worn it in six months, out it went.

If I still hadn’t lost enough baby weight to fit into my favorite jeans from high school, it was time to let them go.

Your children have favorites too.

“I want to wear the unicorn shirt!!”

I realized I couldn’t hold on to clothes I liked for my children. If they didn’t like it, I let it go.

More facts:

Children are tough on clothes.

They outgrow them quickly.

I stopped breaking the bank for name brands. I stopped loading up on gorgeous dresses I would only let them wear for special occasions. If they couldn’t play in it, out it went. We downsized our clothing to what would fit in a suitcase a piece. And the pieces we selected were interchangeable, easily laundered, not elaborate, easily stored, and truly our favorites (downsized favorites).

Next, I changed the way I did laundry. This section may not settle well with some, and that’s ok. To each their own, but it’s a good idea sometimes to explore why we approach things the way we do. It’s interesting to see how modern society has led us to perform tasks. There are some things I began to rethink as my circumstances changed. It’s quite easy to throw everything in the hamper when your washer is two steps away, but take away that convenience and mindsets change.

When I was a missionary in the interior of South America I remember hand washing my clothes with a bar of soap in the river. And hey, I’m not telling anyone to pull out a washtub and scrub board, but I am suggesting you ask yourself how you might approach laundry if it wasn’t so convenient.

We found ourselves living a traveling lifestyle where we didn’t have a washer and dryer in our home anymore. We now had to make a trip to the laundry mat, and while sometimes it was just a short walk away, not being able to switch it out during a commercial break, or paying quarters upon quarters to do it made a difference. When doing laundry became less easy I gave myself permission to re-evaluate my definition of dirty.

If you wear a shirt to an office job in air conditioning for eight hours, is it dirty?

Hey, that’s up to you to answer. I’m just saying, if you reassessed your idea of what requires laundering, would it really, really be dirty?

Let’s say your children sit at home all day while it rains and don’t get any viewable stain on their clothing? Is it dirty?

Ok, you can’t budge me on the underwear issue. People in my house change their undies and wash their booties every day, but with that in mind, is a towel dirty after just one use? What about two? Or three? My laundry usually consists of more panties than anything.

Did your mom teach you to wash your linens every week? Did her mom teach her that? If you’re showering before bed and not sweating in your sheets, how dirty do they get? Are you wearing muddy cleats to bed? If your comforter never touches your body, is it dirty within the week too?

Do you do a sniff test of your husband’s shirt? If there’s no visible stains on the preschooler’s outfit, can’t she wear it again tomorrow? Who’s she trying to impress on the playground? Is there a societal rule that says a kid has to change outfits every day? Hey, I’m just asking. I will say, the best part about moving to a large city with no one around that you know is that you don’t really care what your kid wears to Walmart. Just saying.

If something makes you miserable or stressed out (like, laundry, per se), why not simplify the process?

And before you judge my stinky kids (wink, wink), who by the way, do not smell bad (or really bad, anyway), just realize you’ll also never hear me lamenting about laundry. True story.

The last thing I did was simplify my most dreaded part of the monster that is laundry. Folding. I stopped it, all together. Well, I still fold my own clothes, but I stopped trying to do things that others would only undo.

What happens when you put folded clothes in your child’s drawer? They sift through there and upend all your hard work, right? You leave a nice, tidy drawer that easily closes. They, on the other hand, leave a disheveled pile of wrinkled clothes crammed into a drawer, coming out the top of a now unclose-able drawer. Sound familiar?

So, I stopped folding clothes they would just pull out and not put back properly. Each child has one tote for shirts, one tote for shorts (pants in the winter), and one drawer for panties, socks, and limited pajamas.

I don’t match socks. It’s a pointless exercise. Kids don’t care if socks match; why should I?

I wash the clothes. I don’t separate colors from whites. Gasp!! Y’all, this is an outdated concept. Your grandma did whites alone so she could use really hot water to get the stains out, but the detergents and stain removers on the market today can work very efficiently in cold water. Unless you have a brand new, red article of clothing that is a material composition that bleeds, there’s no reason to separate into colors or temps. I wash everything in the same temp, all together. All my stains come out, all my clothes are clean and wonderful smelling, and are undamaged in the wash. We don’t have to wash anything on delicate, or dry clean, and this is because of the low maintenance lifestyle we have adopted. It’s ok if you don’t agree with my practices, but I thought I’d share so someone else can feel the freedom to loosen the reigns of laundry stress.

After washing and drying I will have each child bring me their totes into the living room. I will separate according to who’s whose, and toss the top or bottom into the appropriate tote. Then they take the totes back to the shelf in their room. This process makes it easy for them to put away their own clothes, pick out their own clothes, and since there’s not tons of clothing pressed together, it doesn’t get wrinkled. But what of it even if it did? Childhood isn’t about creases and designer labels, in my humble opinion. It’s about having fun and being loved! Less clothing and laundry makes life more fun and easy to love in our experience. No worries over what to wear, no concerns over what someone else will think, and no laundry chair. Thank goodness!

Currently, I do about three loads of laundry every two weeks for a family of five. And one load of that is my scrubs I wear to work at the hospital. That’s like, the only laundry I’m really particular about. Lol.

Of note, my children are 8, 6, and 3. This is what works now, but I’m sure it will change as we change. What I do know is that I refuse to stress about laundry. Life is simply too short! It’s like dusting. Sure, I could spend a lot of time doing it, but isn’t my time better spent with the people I love? I think so.

So, is it time to re-evaluate how you do laundry?

How Do You Measure Success?

by

When I was a young woman I longed to finish college so I could finally obtain a high paying job that could give me financial security. As a college student I waited tables to make ends meet, but they hardly ever came together. I scraped by, counting change for gas, begging the phone company to give me another week and not turn my landline off. The difficulties of working full-time while attending college full-time are what eventually convinced me to join the military. They offered a dependable income, free housing, and a chance to travel. Sounded good to me. I can still remember gazing at martini stir sticks with glass fish at the top in a Pier One magazine, and thinking that once I got settled into the military I could afford finer things. Yep, I gazed at grownup bobbles yearning to possess them. It was how I measured success.

To not scrimp and save, yet never get ahead.

To own a home! A two-story, white colonial with navy blue shutters.

That was the measure of success.

Designer clothing. To be able to shop upscale, not WalMart clearance rack.

I wanted a car that was dependable, one I didn’t constantly worry about breaking down.

That was the measure of success.

A saving’s account that I never had to dip into.

Taking two week vacations where you got on an airplane and flew somewhere exotic. Not the back of your parent’s stale minivan for eight hours.

That was the measure of success.

You hear people brag about their children getting into Harvard.

Mothers brag about their son’s promotion. He’ll have to travel more for work now, but they can also get the bigger house.

This is a measure of success.

Career advancement, more pay, a bigger home.

Monogrammed dresses for the daughters. Shiny, new toys for the boys.

This is a measure of success.

Winters at Disney. Summers in the mountains.

Good grades, awards at the end of the year banquet.

A perfectly manicured lawn to match perfectly manicured nails.

This is a measure of success.

I’m not sure when the shift began in me. Somewhere along the way the two story house didn’t make me as happy as I thought it would.

My husband’s promotion only meant he was never home.

All the monogrammed ruffles filled the never ending pile of laundry.

Dust collected quickly on the never-used, glass martini sticks. Still can’t believe I bought them. I don’t like martinis.

Vacations ended too quickly. Time never seemed to be enough. As I cried out “hurry” I glimpsed the strained looks on my daughters’ faces. At some point I realized their happy smiles were my true measuring stick.

Success came in musical laughter or a relaxing evening on the couch with my husband. It came not in the size of our saving’s account, but in the size of our bank of happy memories. True happiness was found in filling that bank, and measuring success by any other avenue seemed like a passing folly.

The big house would fall down, the money would be spent, the clothes outgrown, and the babbles easily broken. Why measure success in things that tarnish?

Somewhere along the way I realized it was my middle child’s loving heart that made me proud. She couldn’t pronounce the letter “L,” but she could brighter a stranger’s day with her smile.

At some point I let go of what everyone else thought of me, or how they measured my success. I no longer cared to impress The Joneses, to put on false airs, pose with my good side, or do what looked good over what felt good.

Success wasn’t measured by outward appearances. It was measured by the inside and what poured out.

I began to realize that success was measured by a happy marriage, smiling children, and a thriving family unit.

Success was measured by watching my husband help a stranger, or by an elderly neighbor bragging on my daughters’ kindness.

Success was measured by the photos I looked at later after a really fun day, or by my eldest daughter exclaiming, “this was the best day ever!”

My greatest success was felt when my child thought to pray for answers first, rather than fretting about her problem.

I measured success by listening to my middle child stop us all from eating and proclaim, “let’s not forget to say grace.”

I measured success by watching my children grow closer to Jesus, or by my own victory over anxiety and fear.

I now measured success by my ability to let go of all the things I once thought I must obtain to make me happy, and by being able to rest content in the joy of the life God had for me all along.

Now I measured success in goodnight kisses and bedtime prayers with my girls. I measured it by the adoring look my spouse gave me at the end of the day, and by the feeling of tremendous love I felt for him when I looked back into his deep brown eyes.

I finally realized that success shouldn’t be measured by what we do for a living as much as how we treat people. It shouldn’t be measured by how many possessions we have, but rather by how many hands we hold. It shouldn’t be measured by what all we have, but rather by what we give away. It shouldn’t be measured in dollar signs; it should be measured in friends. It shouldn’t be measured by our achievements, but instead be measured in how we love.

So, how do we measure success each day? Is it measured by getting to work on time, or is it measured by the patience you gave on the way there? Is it measured by performance, or is it measured by lives touched along the way? Is it measured by bank balances or smiles from our children? Is it measured by fancy cars or musical laughter? Big homes or happy spouses? I’m not saying you can’t have both. You can. But never forfeit one for the other. And never forget that true happiness is the best gauge of all. True joy is measured by having nothing, yet still feeling like you have it all.

So, I suppose I now measure success in units of joy. The joy I’m getting, but also the joy I’m giving away. All the rest is just extra credit.

A Valentine’s Day to Remember

by

I can remember when I was in junior high school that Valentine’s Day was a huge day. The coolest girls received deliveries to the school office. Big bundles of flowers, heart boxes full of candy, and teddy bears with a red bow. I longed for one of those deliveries, but I never got it. I even had to wait a few years before a boy exchanged a gift with me at all. I can’t recall what it was, though. I don’t even remember when I received my first bouquet of a dozen red roses. I suppose the gifts that fade into your past weren’t really that memorable to begin with. For something that seemed so important at the time, the weight of it doesn’t even leave a ripple in the waters of my mind.

I mean, I can’t even recall what my Valentine’s Day card from my husband last year said, and I know I thought the sentiment was especially sweet. I guess that’s why I had always kept the cards he gave me, so I could look back and remind myself what was printed on the card stock. But things are different now. I don’t have a treasure box, hope chest, or storage space with which to pack away my memories. I mean, when was the last time I had read one of those cards anyway? Sometimes you realize you have to let the stuff that disintegrates go in favor of the things that don’t.

And indeed, we had gotten rid of boxes and rooms full of stuff. We had sold and given away a whole two story house packed of objects that you could hold and see so that we could increase the items you couldn’t see, like time together and unconditional love. A year ago we gave up all the stuff so we could travel the country together as a family. We had a small home in the form of an RV, but it certainly wasn’t going to hold years full of cards or a collection of teddy bears and puppies holding hearts. Hence, how Valentine’s Day went this year.

With a new minimalist lifestyle in mind, I had suggested to my spouse how best we might exchange Valentine’s this year. Of course, he found it brilliant. And it’s certainly not one I shall soon forget.

You see, for starters my husband was the best gift I’d ever been given. God had that man designed to be the perfect partner for me, and we had looked back in awe at how the world tried to destroy us, yet God had brought us through it all for His plans to prevail. Even when decades of time and thousands of miles worked to keep us apart, in the end God brought us back together. He knew that Ben was the man I needed to be able to grow closer to the Lord and impact the world with God’s love.

Then there was the fact that my husband gave me good gifts every day. He gave me his heart, his time, his sacrifices, his words of encouragement, his uplifting compliments, and his attention and affection. I watched the world around me, and I saw people who needed time away from their spouse who got on their nerves. They needed tons of girlfriends to confide in about how their husband didn’t understand their needs. They spoke about how hard marriage was, and I just couldn’t for the life of me relate. I had never thought it was hard, not even mildly difficult. It was so easy to be loved by him, and to reciprocate that love. That was the greatest gift.

Every day, the way he looked at me. The look that said, “you are my person. You’re the one that makes life perfect. I can’t imagine anything better than this right here, looking at you.” That look got me every time. It was how I never grew tired of cuddling with him, or how I never tired of hearing, “I love you so much.” I wanted to spend every moment of every day in his presence, and if I could make a day longer than twenty-four hours, I’d spend the extra minutes at his side. It was easy sharing life with him. And I didn’t need a card to tell me he felt the same. But cards are fun, right?

So this year, with the fact that we hauled all our possession around the United States, we thought it would be fun to go to the card aisle and find the Valentine’s that expressed our feelings for each other best, exchange them there, and then put them back! It was perfect! He picked out the absolute best card, and he loved mine too. I probably won’t be able to recite tomorrow what it said, though. And neither will he. Yet we won’t need to. Each day we live out a life together that represents what those Valentine’s stated. Each day we express our affection to one another, and that’s the sort of thing you don’t forget.

A Generation That Hates Mondays

by

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

by

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.