So I have some questions for you. Have you ever been on a precipice of a major change? One that you can feel so deep inside of yourself, but you can’t put words to it? Or maybe you want to make a change, but it terrifies you? I get it. I have been there – in both places and at different times.
We have two non-negotiables that are more related to lifestyle than anything else: freedom and family. Those are the two things that we need. And these two things may look different for you. When we road tripped out to California from Wisconsin in 2016, the year before we moved, we realized that we felt at home wherever we were. Driving through the desert. Camping in the mountains in the rain. Really, for us, home is wherever our family is. If that means we are all living out of our Jeep, it doesn’t matter. We were with our people. Even our dogs. This reality was staring us in the face when we got back to our “home” in Wisconsin. It took Mike and I a few days to vocalize this. Our home no longer felt like home. It was too big, too much and didn’t feel like us anymore. I still don’t have the words for it. None of us had that overwhelming feeling of “coming home” when we walked through the doors.
I question everything – especially myself. And I encourage everyone around me to question things as well. Its what keeps us engaged, alive and present.
What motivates you? Are you present in your life? Are you a participant or an observer? Do you answer the hard questions? OR do you glaze over and go on to the next one until you feel comfortable? Are you just pretending? Are you happy with your story? What is it worth to you to change your story? What are you willing to risk? Everything? Nothing? What do you want to leave behind? What do you want to take with you? Are you willing to remain living by the status quo despite the ache you feel in your heart that things are not right? See? These are not the easy questions. But they are SO important and essential to answer before you take those first steps.We have two non-negotiables that are more related to lifestyle than anything else: freedom and family. Those are the two things that we need. And these two things may look different for you. When we road tripped out to California from Wisconsin in 2016, the year before we moved, we realized that we felt at home wherever we were. Driving through the desert. Camping in the mountains in the rain. Really, for us, home is wherever our family is. If that means we are all living out of our Jeep, it doesn’t matter. We were with our people. Even our dogs. This reality was staring us in the face when we got back to our “home” in Wisconsin. It took Mike and I a few days to vocalize this. Our home no longer felt like home. It was too big, too much and didn’t feel like us anymore. I still don’t have the words for it. None of us had that overwhelming feeling of “coming home” when we walked through the doors.
That is when we knew it was time to make our change. It was time to move on.
The most difficult question for our family was, what do we get rid of and what do we keep? We knew we needed and wanted much less. We wanted to cleanse our lives. I think this process was a bit easier for Mike and I than it was for the kids. If I had it my way, we would have moved out with just a few boxes. I fully embraced the book “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” by Marie Kondō.
“Does this bring me joy?” No? Toss it. …It was awesome…
Our one physical non-negotiable was our dining room table. It may seem a little unexpected. But it was the one item that we all agreed upon that we would NOT sell before we moved. The kids had actually said that they didn’t care where we moved and what we got rid of, as long as we kept the dining room table. You see, our table has turned into a symbol of what the four of us can accomplish together as well as our love and commitment to one another. We picked up the old farm table from a florist friend of ours who was liquidating her studio. The four of us stripped it down and completely refinished it. It took us for what felt like forever. Maybe that is because the work was done when we discovered the tumor in my spine. On the days when I could barely stand, the boys would step in and take over sanding. They were eleven and seven years old at the time. A lot of sweat and even a few tears went into that table. I can see the table from where I am writing and acknowledge all that it has seen in our family over the past five years. It has seen us through it all. And the beautiful part is that it’s helping us write this next chapter as well. The top is a little worn. There are new dents and a few scratches. One of the legs is crooked. We can’t seem to find chairs that look good with it. And it is the most beautiful table I have ever seen.