Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Nurses, Why Are You Surprised?!

by

Nurses, why are you surprised?!

When a community treats its nurses like it treats its fast food workers, this is what happens. I mean, they don’t wanna flip the burgers, but they’ll be first to complain and ridicule the people who won’t. They desire someone else to take the orders with a smile, work the holidays and weekends, yet stay silent about the wage that isn’t appropriate to the task. You won’t catch a senator running the burger joint drive-thru anymore than you’ll spot them cleaning someone’s granny’s butt, yet they will make the decisions about how it should be done, or how it should be compensated. So, why are you surprised?

Healthcare has become a business of customer service, with profits based on satisfaction scores, but the difference in us and say, a department store, is we also are distracted by the tiny hindrance of keeping people alive while we smile, in between the deliveries of turkey sandwiches and warm blankets. No other career will you be expected to cater to the public’s fancy in such a palate-pleasing manner while also being held legally liable for a simple, human mistake that could end in catastrophic harm. In other words, make sure the customer is always right, but also make sure that you are. In healthcare you can lose your job for customer dissatisfaction, but you can also lose your home and livelihood if your math calculations aren’t up to par. Maybe that’s why we’re surprised. Hmmm.

Twenty years I spent at the critical care bedside, giving my everything to my patients. And while I experienced seasons of burnout, I never stopped loving it. I love it still. But I couldn’t do it anymore. In November I took a 50% pay cut (as in my hourly pay was cut in half), for the same amount of fulltime hours, but in an environment that was less stressful than direct patient care. So, what led me there after 20 years?!

I tried to be nice and say it was things like an aging back, and while it’s true that 20 years of turning obese men to clean their bottom has destroyed my spine, that wasn’t the main reason I had to step away. It’s not the main reason we see a shortage in healthcare across the board. Heck, we never minding wiping pee and poop off people who didn’t appreciate us for it. It was the fact that you, the politicians, the administrators, the voting public at large, don’t appreciate what we sacrifice for our communities. Y’all, that hurts.

The past two years were like a knife in my back from a longtime friend. I saw the public as a whole, who had no problem before messaging me late at night for advice about their sick kid, suddenly decide I had no idea what I was talking about. They trusted me to take care of their father after open heart surgery, but they rolled their eyes at my opinions on a pandemic.

We said, “we’re drowning!”

They replied, “the numbers are a lie!”

We begged them to wear a mask, stay home, or even, God forbid, consider a scientifically proven vaccine.

They laughed. They shared memes making fun of the science they had trusted us to treat them with for decades, and they even used our own faith against us. That probably hurt the most. As a woman of faith, personally, who loves Jesus and people, I couldn’t understand how my service to others in love suddenly meant so little. Ok, I’ll admit it; I was surprised.

Those like myself, working in the ICU, under horrible conditions, to work tirelessly and fruitlessly, combating a virus we couldn’t defeat, were forgotten.

I remember reaching out to family and friends afar, expressing the pain of what I was witnessing, and it was met with monotone, false sympathies.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that bad. I’m so sorry.”

“Meanwhile, let’s remember what’s really important here. This is all a hoax to take away our freedoms and religion.”

So, while we hurt, they swept our lamentations under a rug, shining the spotlight instead on political platforms.

In the midst of our distress, many frontline workers fell away, and to boost the bodies required to fight a pandemic, they increased our compensation. Finally! I always hated it took half a million people dying to prove we’re worthwhile.

But now the dust somewhat settles. Remote workers return to the office, mask mandates are removed, school is somewhat normal operating procedure, and Johnny Q. Public (or politician or administrator) remembers what they’re paying the exhausted frontline, while conveniently forgetting what brought us to this point. Why are we surprised?!

Why are we surprised that the people who complain about the wait at the drive-thru, while thoroughly refusing to work at the drive-thru for minimum wage, are the same people complaining about the wait at their local ER?! They’re not gonna wait tables for pennies anymore than they’ll hold life and death in their hands for what you make as a loan officer or insurance underwriter (who make about the same as a nurse with 15-20 years experience)! In other words, they want to ridicule the fast food workers and waitresses who refuse to serve them for a wage you can’t even pay your increasing rent and grocery bill with, calling them lazy and entitled. In the same vein, they want to call us money-hungry, accuse us of taking advantage of a national staffing shortage, when all we want is to finally be recognized for the pain we’ve endured.

While most everyone stayed home in pj’s, we went to work. When people feared an unknown virus, we faced it head on. When you wanted our advice, you took it, but when it contradicted your politics, you shamed us. When there are not enough servers at your favorite restaurant, you end up having to wait a long time. Inconvenience. When there are not enough servants at the hospital bedside, your lifesaving healthcare is delayed. Death. Death that we will be held liable for. And you are surprised we don’t want a cap on our salary?!

Don’t take something we love and guilt us into killing ourselves physically and mentally for a salary that won’t even begin to dig us out of the legal bills we are crushed under after staffing shortages hasten us to make a mistake. Just don’t.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to leave the hospital bedside, the critical care nursing I still love. Even a wage that blessed my family so much, wasn’t enough to compensate me in such an exhausting environment. The thing is, there are a lot of nurses like me, mentally and physically done after these past few years, no matter the compensation.

How do you think it will go if they cutback the pay for those who remain?!

Will any of us be surprised when there are no bedside nurses left?

Chew on that.

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.

When Strangers Question Our Decision to Homeschool

by

Working as a travel nurse I am afforded the opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, all across the country, who have differing opinions on life than I do. Most folks are eager to converse, ask questions, and offer advice as I talk about my family. Since I travel with my husband and three daughters in an RV to different hospital assignments most people are intrigued by our roaming lifestyle. I’ve had many varied reactions to how we’ve chosen to live as a family, and most of them have been positive. In fact, most people proclaim how fun and adventurous it sounds, or how they wish they could do such a thing.

Living the dream.

Of course, as the conversation goes along most people ask pretty quickly what the children do about school. We were a homeschooling family for years before we became a traveling family so I’m very confident in my decision to homeschool. I’m just not quite so used to discussing that decision with so many strangers. Before we began traveling no one really came out and asked, “how do you educate your children.” But now that’s one of the first questions I get.

Again, most people are pretty positive about it, or appear to be. Homeschooling has become more commonplace over the years, so people aren’t shocked anymore. Some even say something like, “yeah, my niece homeschools.” But there’s always that one, strong-opinionated individual who feels compelled to offer their personal opinion on how I should educate my own children. And I get that everyone is entitled to their opinion. I just may not be turning cartwheels to hear it when it talks condescendingly about something I am so passionate to pursue. Make sense? It’s like, why not just keep that to yourself?

I’ve heard a plethora of uneducated (on the issue of homeschooling) and stereotypical opinions about homeschooling, but here’s the most recent one I got from a patient’s family member who I had met all of five minutes.

“That’s great, just make sure you enroll them in real school by the time they’re teenagers. My kids went to college with homeschooled kids, and they had no idea how to act in the real world. Don’t do that to your kids. Let them learn how to socialize.” She instructed me with a knowing look.

Y’all, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t say anything. I was just too dumbfounded to respond. Had I been able to pick up my jaw from the floor I might have answered something like this.

We don’t keep them locked up in a dungeon.

They’re not in an RV commune, sitting in the dirt, in their sack dresses, begging Paw if we can go to the picture show this weekend.

We don’t keep them trapped in their room, on their knees, praying for forgiveness, and hoping we’ll let them out in public today.

They play with other children. They also interact with a multitude of adults. They’re allowed to experience different areas of the country, different cultures, different people, and how to interact intelligently, politely, and lovingly with all types of people. It’s socialization at its best. We just happen to be present to help raise, guide, and mentor them through these differing situations rather than throwing them to the wolves with the hopes they’ll figure it out.

They go to church, Sunday School, playgrounds, community events, parties, and all kinds of activities. I would almost venture to say they have more of an opportunity to socialize than most young children their age. Instead of being trapped in the same environment, with the same people, same views, and even same closed-mindedness, they are given the awesome opportunity to learn and grow from the experiences of people from all over. Talk about socialization!

What they aren’t chained into believing is that there’s only one way to think in life, that there’s only one way to live life, that there’s no room for growth, adventure, or the opportunity to chase their dreams. Their opinions aren’t molded into conformity by the masses or their minds made up for them based on what’s socially acceptable in their small sampling of the world. They don’t think something is “cool” because that’s what their small circle of friends believe. They aren’t forced to follow the crowd, fit into a clique, or conform to a box. They are allowed independent thought based on the varying opinions they are allowed to glean from.

When they go to college (if they choose to go, because I won’t push a certain path upon them) they will not be lost. They will not be lost because we will have trained them up in the way they should go. They will be like straight and sure arrows, on target, led by the Lord as we have taught them. Or so I hope. But even if they falter and fall, I will not fret, for they belonged to the Lord before they did me, and they’ll belong to Him always. He just gives me the chance to raise them here on earth for Him until eternity comes. And in that regard we prayerfully and purposefully have chosen the educational path for our children that is homeschooling.

In the path we have chosen we don’t focus on what career you’ll have when you grow up, but rather what kind of person you’re going to be. We don’t focus of building winners, but rather creating children who are okay if they lose, children who can be servants, not just want to be the master of their own little universe.

We have certain morals and ideals that we are led to cultivate into the next generation. We’re not just raising doctors, lawyers, or Wall street executives. We’re raising kind kids who will show the light of Jesus in a lost and dying world. This is our focus.

We’re not so worried if they’ll be the most popular, captain of the team, or president of the class. We’re not just building a transcript; we’re building character. But since you’re so concerned if they’ll be that weird kid, the answer is “yeah, they probably will be.”

They’ll be the weird ones who help the hurting, befriend the outcast, and take second place to let someone else be first. They’ll be the weird ones following their moral compass rather than the crowd, or so I pray. But even if they falter or make mistakes (because they will; they’re human after all), they will know God’s grace. They’ll know it extends greater than grades, just as his mercy overshadows money-making any day.

Today as we were getting in the truck to leave an elderly woman in our current RV Park ran over.

“Can I say goodbye to the girls? We’re leaving today?” She explained breathlessly.

She proceeded to hug my daughters and explain how much fun she had watching them play. She added to me that they were so kind and polite, a true joy to be around, and that she would miss them! It touched my heart and made me realize that we’re doing okay at this crazy-hard thing called parenting. We’ll keep doing it the best we can, as God leads, and despite the well-intentioned opinion of strangers concerned for our educational methods. I believe we’re doing just fine over here.

How I Burned Out as a Nurse

by

For years I thought about writing this post. At different times of my career it was composed differently, but each version always contained basic truths.

Nursing was hard.

Nursing was rewarding.

I couldn’t keep doing something so exhausting.

It was exhausting to think of doing anything else.

At some points of my nursing career I dreamed of writing a blog about how I had finally moved on to something else, and I guess that thought was the most anticipated while simultaneously disappointing post idea of all. I even wrote articles about how I could hate something I loved so much. But I think the worst season I endured was when I couldn’t even write about nursing anymore. There was a time when my angst with the field grew so prodigious that it spilled into my writing, painting only negative strokes, and it cut me to the core when a nursing reader pointed out the fact I didn’t want to admit.

“This is horrible,” she commented. “You’re obviously burnt out!”

My initial reaction was anger. How dare she accuse me. She didn’t know me! Didn’t she realize the field of nursing was hard?! Didn’t she know how difficult it was, and that sometimes you had to vent your frustrations?! She must be in administration! I surmised, trying to make myself feel better. But then it hit me like a ton of bricks. She was right. I was burned out.

I felt almost defeated. I saw so many kinds of nurses. I saw the ones who fed on adrenaline, who lived and breathed medicine. They carried gym bags with their credentials emblazoned on the side, and they wore t-shirts with sassy sayings about saving lives. Then I saw the old nurses trudging through their shift, full of complaints, spreading their disdain like poison. They obviously hated what they did, but after so long in the field felt stuck. I wanted to be the former, but I feared becoming the latter. At the time I was neither. My heart wanted to love nursing, but I just couldn’t. I had hit a wall where my purpose was lost. It was horrible.

Around that time I cut down my hours at the bedside. I changed to PRN, working maybe one day a week. I had found a direct sales job that made it possible for me to earn income otherwise, and I worked just enough to keep my feet wet while allowing me distance from the field. The pride I had felt over being a nurse never went away; I just experienced a drought in my career. It was a dry place where I didn’t love it anymore. Not even a little bit.

I’m not sure what shifted exactly, if it was the time away or more than that. All I know is that the time I did spend with my patients started becoming enjoyable again. I had always loved the people part of it. Excluding those difficult patients. Boy, if you wanna make waves, try blogging about demanding patients! People pull out the pitchforks. It was my first million-read post, though. So there’s that. But I digress.

The point is, I realized I really liked making someone’s day. Being sick sucked, so when I could make someone smile it felt great. When I explained something in a way that made a confused family member finally understand, I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. When I could get the difficult patient to comply, where people before me had not, I felt I was serving some higher purpose. God began to speak to my heart about how much I was needed in this job. And when I finally felt purpose again, not just like a warm body filling a staffing spot, I began to thrive in my job.

Currently I’m working as a traveling nurse. I fill positions needed in ICU’s across the country. I bring all my kids and my spouse, going from job to job in an RV. Working three 12 hour shifts is still exhausting, but it no longer beats me down. Wherever I go now I can bring a little, joyful singing, a happy smile, and a helpful demeanor. I can enjoy the rest of the time off with my family exploring our new surroundings, rather than being overly tired and worn down from a career choice I hate. I can see my purpose, I can share it with those who need it most, and I can finally start writing about nursing again with a smile on my face.

If you’ve ever felt burned out from nursing, or perhaps, if you’re feeling it now, know you’re in good company. Nursing is hard. Sometimes it feels like an abusive relationship you can’t escape! It’s okay to get burned out as a nurse. We’re human after all. And perhaps it’s not for everyone. We’ve all worked with those people who would better serve elsewhere. But if there’s that part inside you that wants to love it still, like I did, then know that there is another side to the season you find yourself in. Take a break. Try something new. Find your purpose, your reason for being a nurse, and let that motivate you. Let it resound inside you the truth that you are valuable, needed, and making a huge difference in the lives of others!

Come To the Table

by

Come to the table.

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

Come to the table.

Taste and see.

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

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

Come to the table. Dine with me.

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

Come to the table.

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

Come to the table.

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

Come to the table.

Is God inviting you to dinner, today?

The Time We Got a Nail in Our Trailer Tire

by

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

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

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

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

Ezekiel 11:22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What Happens When You Hear God’s Voice Wrong?

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.

The Best Things In Life Are Free

by

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

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

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

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