Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

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.

What Happens When You Hear God’s Voice Wrong?

by

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.

How Hard Was It To Let Go of Everything For My Family’s Sake?

by

223 days. That was how many days it has been since we decided to do something. For longer than that we knew the status quo wasn’t working for us, but it has been over 200 days ago since we decided we were going to do something about it. That’s the first step, you know? The first step, and the scariest, is always deciding to make a change. Then hesitantly, but with certainty you make that first trembling shuffle forward. It’s now been almost two months since we left behind the familiar in favor of adventure, since we cast off The American Dream in favor of truly living the dream. 56 days ago we said goodbye to the seemingly normal and hello to new things. As we create a new normal I’m able to look back and see the enormity of what we were able to do in such a short time.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

My dear aunt. More like a mother since my own had passed away, my aunt looked at me with loving concern as she questioned my emotions. Back in September we had just completed the first, big purge yard sale. I had cheaply sold knick knacks I had carted around the country, carefully packing them, for the past twenty years. I had let them go quickly and emotionlessly, and now that my home sat much emptier than it had the week before I contemplated her question. Was I okay? I wasn’t sure what bothered me more, the fact that I had sold most of my life in a weekend’s time, or the fact that I didn’t much care that I had. As I looked inside myself I realized I was more than okay; I was fine and dandy. I didn’t quite understand it, but somehow I had easily and efficiently parted with a large array of personal, albeit materialistic possessions. The weirdest part was how light and airy I felt. It was like a weight had been lifted. Stuff! All this stuff I had carefully packed in boxes, unpacked, dusted, and told the children not to touch was gone. The boxes and boxes of children’s clothing? Gone. Wine glasses and china I never used? Gone. It was all gone, but so was some of the anxiety I had been carrying for years.

A friend who had decided to follow our lead and start traveling the country with her family in an RV had recently mentioned to me how surprised she was at how easy everything seemed to be coming together.

“Launching into this lifestyle is actually quite easy,” I answered. “It’s the mental hurdles that are the hard part.”

And that was true. Forty years of life had told me I needed a big house with a picket fence, that I needed the yard, the dog, the family car, and a nice vacation once a year. What I didn’t realize was that life could be one lived so well that you didn’t need to take a vacation from it. I thought an excellent credit score was to be my pursuit so that I could obtain all the things that made life more enjoyable. Yet every year I spent watching my babies grow quickly, I realized all the frills were not necessary. We had all we needed in one another. The rest of it just distracted you from the important people in your life.

But the worst of it was the stress! The stress I created! The time constraints, the schedules, the to-do lists. The bills, the frills, and the window dressing. It was suffocating. Why did we work so hard just to pay bills and die? What happened to enjoying life to the fullest everyday with the people you cared about?

It turns out the hardest part was letting go of the familiar. A caged animal when set free will be hesitant to leave the constraints of its familiar surroundings. Even though freedom lies directly ahead there’s fear. Fear of the unknown. At least in captivity everything is comfortable and the same. I’m reminded of the Israelites who fled from Egypt. At one point they wanted to return to slavery rather than trust God to take them somewhere new. Trusting God for something new can be scary.

Even as I watched my furniture be swiftly taken out of our house it wasn’t that hard. I won’t lie; it was emotional, but it wasn’t near as difficult as I had assumed. Even whittling down my closet of shoes wasn’t terrible. As I looked at the empty rooms and bare floors it wasn’t so much the fact that all our things were gone physically. It was the idea mentally that we had nothing. Somewhere inside me had been built an ideal that the things I obtained in life held merit, that they were what made us successful and full. So as I realized we had given it all up, that we had given away our clothes (other than a small suitcase full), that we had sold the car and the minivan, that our home was going to be lived in by someone else, it hit me that now all we had was one another. Our businesses were gone, our jobs gone, and all the many things we had filled in the spaces with; it was all gone. All we had was one another and the desire to be together. Turns out that’s all we needed.

So the hardest part of deciding to take on a fulltime family, traveling lifestyle isn’t giving up all your stuff and your house. It’s not even leaving a familiar job, community, and extended family support system (although that is hard). It’s not the homeschooling or removing your children from their local activities and friends. The hardest part is realizing mentally that all the comforts and materialistic things aren’t what life is all about. It’s the journey from knowing that, but then actually deciding to walk in that. It’s the decision to buck the status quo, be different, and do what makes you happy, not what the world promotes as making you happy. We’re currently fifteen minutes from Disney World, but Disney World isn’t the happiest place on earth. Wherever you are with the people you love, that’s the happiest place on earth. Happiness isn’t found in the clothes on your back, within the walls of a house, or in your bank account. It’s found in the smile of your child, the way your spouse gazes lovingly at you across the room, and on your ability to find joy in any and all circumstances through Jesus. If a busy life is a distraction from God’s joy the hardest part may just be realizing that and letting go of the distractions.

Was it hard to let go of everything for my family’s sake? Surprisingly no. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done, the best thing I never realized I needed all along, and the most eye-opening experience of all times. If you’re ever brave enough to take that first step, you’ll look back later and wonder why you didn’t do it sooner.

How Hard Was It To Let Go of Everything For My Family’s Sake?

by

223 days. That was how many days it has been since we decided to do something. For longer than that we knew the status quo wasn’t working for us, but it has been over 200 days ago since we decided we were going to do something about it. That’s the first step, you know? The first step, and the scariest, is always deciding to make a change. Then hesitantly, but with certainty you make that first trembling shuffle forward. It’s now been almost two months since we left behind the familiar in favor of adventure, since we cast off The American Dream in favor of truly living the dream. 56 days ago we said goodbye to the seemingly normal and hello to new things. As we create a new normal I’m able to look back and see the enormity of what we were able to do in such a short time.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

My dear aunt. More like a mother since my own had passed away, my aunt looked at me with loving concern as she questioned my emotions. Back in September we had just completed the first, big purge yard sale. I had cheaply sold knick knacks I had carted around the country, carefully packing them, for the past twenty years. I had let them go quickly and emotionlessly, and now that my home sat much emptier than it had the week before I contemplated her question. Was I okay? I wasn’t sure what bothered me more, the fact that I had sold most of my life in a weekend’s time, or the fact that I didn’t much care that I had. As I looked inside myself I realized I was more than okay; I was fine and dandy. I didn’t quite understand it, but somehow I had easily and efficiently parted with a large array of personal, albeit materialistic possessions. The weirdest part was how light and airy I felt. It was like a weight had been lifted. Stuff! All this stuff I had carefully packed in boxes, unpacked, dusted, and told the children not to touch was gone. The boxes and boxes of children’s clothing? Gone. Wine glasses and china I never used? Gone. It was all gone, but so was some of the anxiety I had been carrying for years.

A friend who had decided to follow our lead and start traveling the country with her family in an RV had recently mentioned to me how surprised she was at how easy everything seemed to be coming together.

“Launching into this lifestyle is actually quite easy,” I answered. “It’s the mental hurdles that are the hard part.”

And that was true. Forty years of life had told me I needed a big house with a picket fence, that I needed the yard, the dog, the family car, and a nice vacation once a year. What I didn’t realize was that life could be one lived so well that you didn’t need to take a vacation from it. I thought an excellent credit score was to be my pursuit so that I could obtain all the things that made life more enjoyable. Yet every year I spent watching my babies grow quickly, I realized all the frills were not necessary. We had all we needed in one another. The rest of it just distracted you from the important people in your life.

But the worst of it was the stress! The stress I created! The time constraints, the schedules, the to-do lists. The bills, the frills, and the window dressing. It was suffocating. Why did we work so hard just to pay bills and die? What happened to enjoying life to the fullest everyday with the people you cared about?

It turns out the hardest part was letting go of the familiar. A caged animal when set free will be hesitant to leave the constraints of its familiar surroundings. Even though freedom lies directly ahead there’s fear. Fear of the unknown. At least in captivity everything is comfortable and the same. I’m reminded of the Israelites who fled from Egypt. At one point they wanted to return to slavery rather than trust God to take them somewhere new. Trusting God for something new can be scary.

Even as I watched my furniture be swiftly taken out of our house it wasn’t that hard. I won’t lie; it was emotional, but it wasn’t near as difficult as I had assumed. Even whittling down my closet of shoes wasn’t terrible. As I looked at the empty rooms and bare floors it wasn’t so much the fact that all our things were gone physically. It was the idea mentally that we had nothing. Somewhere inside me had been built an ideal that the things I obtained in life held merit, that they were what made us successful and full. So as I realized we had given it all up, that we had given away our clothes (other than a small suitcase full), that we had sold the car and the minivan, that our home was going to be lived in by someone else, it hit me that now all we had was one another. Our businesses were gone, our jobs gone, and all the many things we had filled in the spaces with; it was all gone. All we had was one another and the desire to be together. Turns out that’s all we needed.

So the hardest part of deciding to take on a fulltime family, traveling lifestyle isn’t giving up all your stuff and your house. It’s not even leaving a familiar job, community, and extended family support system (although that is hard). It’s not the homeschooling or removing your children from their local activities and friends. The hardest part is realizing mentally that all the comforts and materialistic things aren’t what life is all about. It’s the journey from knowing that, but then actually deciding to walk in that. It’s the decision to buck the status quo, be different, and do what makes you happy, not what the world promotes as making you happy. We’re currently fifteen minutes from Disney World, but Disney World isn’t the happiest place on earth. Wherever you are with the people you love, that’s the happiest place on earth. Happiness isn’t found in the clothes on your back, within the walls of a house, or in your bank account. It’s found in the smile of your child, the way your spouse gazes lovingly at you across the room, and on your ability to find joy in any and all circumstances through Jesus. If a busy life is a distraction from God’s joy the hardest part may just be realizing that and letting go of the distractions.

Was it hard to let go of everything for my family’s sake? Surprisingly no. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done, the best thing I never realized I needed all along, and the most eye-opening experience of all times. If you’re ever brave enough to take that first step, you’ll look back later and wonder why you didn’t do it sooner.