FLORIDA

I have been hard at work building something new. I’ve always been working on creating other brands, and now I’ve decided to focus on a new adventure. It’s a little empty at the moment, but that’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted to grow into this space and make it my own along the way.

I wanted to start something that wasn’t a consumption of things or monetary spending but of experiences and memories. I wish I had more of these things with my mom because one day, she was fine, and the next, she was not. There was a sudden deterioration, and she went into a coma that she never came out of.

I had so many questions, and she would always say, “We will discuss them when you’re older.” That moment never came, and now she is gone.

So, here I am writing this for my kids and anyone else who wants to take the journey with us because my ultimate hope is that you see a broken life filled with grace and heavenly intervention and find the light within your own story to share with others who may be struggling, too.

If I could creatively piece these experiences together to encourage others to take an adventure with their kids instead of going home on the weekends and turning on the latest college football game in the fall or ordering the next thing from Amazon and waiting for it to arrive in the mail thinking it will bring lasting satisfaction.

Instead, I hope you get outside, breathe in some fresh air, and make some core memories.

In the meantime, we are still looking for a place to plant roots around people who love Jesus, buy some dirt, and find a community that lives life for each other. But, until then, we will keep traveling.

When your heart longs for peace instead of noise and racket, you constantly keep your eyes open to where that place may be. I haven’t found it yet, but I will keep looking.

For a time, Florida was that place. It’s where I worked, where we found a sweet community, and where a good chunk of life happened.

It’s the place I came after my divorce was finalized.

We lived in a tiny two-bedroom, one-bathroom place at the beach, where we couldn’t even fit our couch up the stairs.

Options were limited during the pandemic, with everyone and their mother moving here.

It sufficed for a while until public school became a constant struggle, rent would increase, and the problems just kept lining up one after another.

I wanted to pack up and go anywhere else. I didn’t want to be in the beach shack; I wanted a break. I wanted to breathe in fresh air and watch a sunrise from anywhere other than the front door in the mornings. I wanted to run from the spelling, the tears, and all the things that were frustrating. I wanted change.

Ten homes within seven years.

The never-ending cardboard boxes.

Yet, here we go again.

This time, it would be different. The boxes were going into storage, not a rental property. This time, we would hit the road and homeschool.

The question I keep asking myself over and over again is, what stories will my kids tell one day? Will they look back at their childhood and see growth, realize all the challenges they overcame, and see a fantastic adventure? Or will it be something else?