Waiting and trusting and praying and hoping.

Sleet stung my face like microscopic darts of freezing fire. It was as if the sky was as brokenhearted as I was to be leaving Oregon, our home. I stood impatiently, hopping from one foot to the next, generating as much body heat as possible under my thin raincoat in that storage unit parking lot, watching Kelley help a local stranger hook up our travel trailer to his truck. I fumbled with my phone in the freezing rain, freezing droplets dotting the screen as I electronically transferred the funds to pay our deposit. With every drop of sleet, I grew more agitated, more desperate. I prayed silently, Lord, please keep our home safe. Please let this man be trustworthy…

It was two months ago that Kelley and I drove to Portland from Mississippi to load up the rest of our belongings that had been sitting in storage, abandoned in boxes for months—kitchenware and bikes and hope of a future still to come in the Pacific Northwest. We met a guy who would haul our RV across the country to where we have been visiting family. We loaded our boxes into a small Uhaul trailer. We ate our favorite Portland foods and hugged our friends’ necks and cried through excruciating goodbyes. Goodbye, Douglas firs. Goodbye, snow-capped mountains. Goodbye, food trucks. Finally, we traveled more than 3,000 miles over three days, dodging weather hazards by driving south to L.A. and then eastward to meet three freckled, smiling faces who awaited us in Mississippi.

It was a step of faith. Kelley had just finished his third interview for a job in Nashville, Tennessee, and we were waiting to hear back on next steps. We felt excitement about the opportunity and had agreed that it was time to say goodbye to Oregon, to start a new life elsewhere in the country, so this was a way to put action to our faith.

As we welcomed the new year in 2022, my prayer was that the Lord would strengthen our faith. It was not enough that I have faith in Jesus, faith that He hears and answers my prayer; I wanted to experience what Scripture means when it says the righteous will live by faith. Day-to-day, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute total dependence on the Holy Spirit to guide us, on our Heavenly Father to provide for us.

This seems like an ancient notion, an overspiritualization, especially in America with all our grit and determination and resources and self-sufficiency. Even our contingencies have backup plans. But I began to see in Scripture that perhaps that kind of faith, the kind of faith that plans for what will happen if God doesn’t come through, isn’t really faith at all. When uncovered, Fear is there, hovering in the shadows, calling the shots, demanding that we be practical, responsible.

So, I prayed for big faith. Bold faith. Manna from Heaven, daily bread, mountain-moving kind of faith. (I can be a little intense at times.) I wanted the kind of faith that honors God. The kind of faith that astounded Jesus when he encountered the woman with the bleeding disorder or the centurion with the dying child. And the only way to really grow that kind of faith is to exercise it. Even at the risk of appearing very, very foolish.

The past nine months have been a masterclass in faith-building. After more than a year of sensing that God was asking us to leave our workplace without something else lined up, we finally did. We prayed for God’s will, and we removed ourselves and our plans and our strategies out of the way with one sweeping motion to make room for Him to move. We sold most of our belongings, bought a travel trailer, and traveled with our kids full-time for a sabbatical. Then we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Oh, we had an opportunity that we thought would be waiting for Kelley back in Portland after the summer; then that was put on hold indefinitely. I had a maybe-opportunity to do some freelance graphic design for a former coworker, but that also was delayed.

So we waited some more.

We put our RV in storage and drove to Mississippi to spend the first holiday season in four years with family. We reconnected with friends in the South that we hadn’t seen since our move to Oregon four years ago. I homeschooled our children with half of our schoolbooks still in storage across the country. We lived for several months straddling the continental United States, with one foot in Oregon and the other in Mississippi, just trying to keep our balance.

Kelley interviewed for a position with our previous church in Birmingham, but after learning some of the stipulations of the job and experiencing the rather dodgy, cryptic interview process, we had more red flags than peace about taking the job and returning to a megachurch, and he took himself out of the running. Even when the interviewer tried to persuade him to reconsider, he said no—with nothing but faith that God would come through for us and provide something better suited for our family.

And we waited some more.

I’ve learned that faith is very much a waiting game, which feels very lazy and irresponsible for my type-A personality. Kelley and I are get-er-doners. We’re doers, not dilly-dalliers. We’re workers, not waiters. And being that way has very much left us exhausted and empty and trying to bless ourselves with what little we had because we acted too soon.

This time, we made a pact that we would not make a decision based on fear that God won’t meet our needs, that He won’t come through with something better than just scraping by. There have been a couple of job offers that Kelley has passed up because they weren’t what we actually needed, even when people were telling us that a job that doesn’t pay well is better than no job at all. That hasn’t been our experience—quite the opposite, actually—so we’ve held out, believing with everything within us that our Father gives good gifts, that the Creator of the universe can and will create what is needed out of thin air. His supply is unlimited. His economy is fireproof.

Counting on this, we’ve been finding ways to put action to our faith, wait with expectation. And a couple of months ago, it came to us.

Over the few months that we’ve been in Mississippi, we’ve been wracking our brains trying to figure out the best way to move our RV across the country. We learned this summer that our vehicle really didn’t have the capacity for a haul that extensive. Rental haulers were two-way and too expensive. We researched multiple options, and each one seemed worse than the last.

But one day, he came in contact with a man who worked as a hauler, who just so happened to be making a trip to Arkansas from his home in Oregon to purchase a trailer for his business. He was looking for something to transport to the South to cover his travel expenses, and he was leaving that next week. He offered to haul our RV for less than half what everyone else was quoting, less than it would have cost to do it ourselves. It was a divine opportunity, mutually beneficial, so we agreed to it.

A few days after that conversation, and after his third interview with the company in Nashville, I suggested that we just go get the rest of our stuff. We’ll have to move it anyway. Let’s go get it in faith that God is providing our next steps, in preparation and expectation for Him to move in our lives.

So we did. We moved across the country for a second time, saying goodbye to a very different Portland than the one we moved to, still with just enough belongings to fit in a small UHaul. Then I washed and changed our sheets in the RV and cleaned it top to bottom. We started organizing and getting ready for a move.

It never came.

After two months of radio silence from the company in Nashville despite Kelley’s efforts to reach out, he received an email from the recruiter. They were pursuing an internal candidate instead.

What the…?

I wish I could write a better outcome to this story, but it’s still to be continued. Along the way, we’ve felt frustrated and confused, anxious and defeated. We’ve questioned our decisions. We’ve sought advice. Did we miss the mark? Did we really hear from Him?

But the entire time, that still small voice keeps whispering to everyone in our inner circle, “Trust Me.” And what choice do we have, really? Where else would we place our trust? We know our limitations in this process. We know where we fall short, how ill equipped we are to just make something happen in a job market where layoffs and downsizing are everywhere. We have no other option but to trust Him to come through. He’s done it before, and He’ll do it again. I’m certain of it.

Trust Me.

So we do. We trust Him. We are standing on the words He’s spoken. We’re holding Him to His promises. We’re modeling for our kids what it means to live by faith. We are watching Him provide for our needs in miraculous ways and thanking Him for the blessings in the waiting.

Living in a Golden State of mind.

We have officially made it more than a month in the RV! It was a little rocky there for a bit, with our Expedition resembling the little engine that could while it chugged and dragged our heavy RV up mountain passes throughout California, but we slowly ventured down to San Diego, enjoyed our three-week stay, and made our way back up to Oregon.

While we were in the San Diego area, we stayed almost a week in a hotel in the city and took the kids to LEGOLAND, Sea World, and the San Diego Zoo and Safari Park. When we’d arrived at our campground in Jamul, about 20 minutes outside San Diego, we were unable to secure a site with full hookups (which a family of five definitely needed for a three-week stay), and the whole helter-skelter check-in and site selection process felt a lot like a Black Friday/Wild West mashup. So escaping to the city and enjoying the luxuries of a hotel—like hot water usage and city sewer and free breakfast—for six nights was very restorative.

Our kids, especially our middle son, have been begging to go to LEGOLAND for more than a year, and getting them there had us feeling a lot like Clark Griswold’s quest to attend Wally World with his family. Between car trouble, a last-minute RV repair, and a trip to the veterinary ER when our dog swallowed a bee and broke out in full-body hives (TWICE!) just after recovering from a bout of upset stomach from ingesting a foreign object, we could have starred in that movie ourselves. But we made it through, thankfully only slightly worse for the wear.

We opened and closed the park, staying a total of 10 hours. We rode every ride and visited every attraction at least once. The kids were absolutely euphoric as we dragged our worn-out bodies and aching feet out to the parking lot, their hands filled with mini figures and LEGO sets that they bought with birthday money, declaring that their visit to LEGOLAND was the absolute best day of their lives. (A big thanks to Kelley’s parents for funding the kids’ tickets as birthday presents this year.)

The San Diego Zoo and Safari Park days were some of the hottest in San Diego, with the most walking, especially when Eva left her Columbia sun shirt in a bathroom near the back of the zoo, and I half-walked, half-jogged the entire outside loop for a second time to track it down. (Unfortunately, it was long gone by the time we realized it was missing, but at least I got some great exercise in.) Our collective favorite part of the zoo was the Australian Outback area, which featured a handful of adorable koalas sleeping in eucalyptus trees. (Or maybe it was the misting stations that smelled like eucalyptus, which cooled us off and felt more like a spa than a zoo).

The best part of the Safari Park, which took almost another full day, was riding the open-air tram (included in admission) through the African savannah exhibit. It was the closest thing to a genuine safari that one can get without paying exorbitant African safari prices. From the tram, we were able to watch animals found on the African plains in their natural habitat (sans the apex predators; that would have made for an entirely different type of park.) And the extreme heat really added to the authenticity of the African-themed park. I was a little jealous watching the herd of elephants romp around in their cooling pool (with a splashy waterfall) munching on watermelon.

Sea World has always been a childhood favorite of Kelley’s, so we also took the kids to the San Diego location while we were there. Because of all the water involved, including a couple of rounds on some water rides, my phone mostly stayed in our rented locker, so I didn’t get many photos. But we thoroughly enjoyed the dolphin, orca, and sea lion shows (I might have teared up a little at the dolphin show finale—those creatures were having so much fun together!) and the Shipwreck Mountain rapids ride.

Liam and I even braved the new Emperor floorless free-fall roller coaster—which included a 14-story 90-degree vertical drop at more than 60 miles per hour. I’ve always been somewhat of a thrill seeker and have loved roller coasters since childhood, but it is a completely different experience riding it as a parent, watching your firstborn dangle his feet in 143 feet up in the air while being suspended at a 45-degree angle above the earth. I had the lady sitting on the other side of him holding on to him, too, lest his lanky little self slip out of his harness at any point, especially when I almost blacked out on the free-fall. Thankfully, we made it out alive, though a little lightheaded and nauseous.

In between theme parks, we had the opportunity to explore some of San Diego’s more popular neighborhoods, including dinner (and another lunch) at Cafe Coyote in Old Town and a stroll through Liberty Station, a former naval base turned artisanal neighborhood filled with restaurants, shops, and art galleries. There, we meandered through the old barracks and sampled some gelato at Parfait Paris and a variety of flavors at the Mini Donut Co. I wish we’d had more time at Coronado Beach, though we did the ocean-view drive through the peninsula one Saturday afternoon. I also would have spent some me-time window shopping at Fashion Valley, a higher end shopping mall where we stopped one morning and grabbed cold brews at Better Buzz Coffee. (The kids were bored with all the “grown-up” stores—Williams-Sonoma, Armani Exchange, and Prada, to name a few—so we made our visit brief.)

A few logistics that made our week in San Diego more enjoyable: we made a reservation for our dog, Ranger, to stay at the Petsmart’s Petshotel in La Jolla (close to Sprinkles cupcake parlor, which we of course partook of—they were absolutely the best cupcakes we’ve ever had), and I can’t say enough good things about the place. They were genuinely excited to see him, and he was pampered all week—playdates, bubble machines, indoor playground time, and a bath and nail trim including cologne for when we picked him up. We booked the Comfort Inn and Suites on Hotel Circle with our Capital One travel points, which, although I can’t really recommend the outdated, under-serviced hotel, it was a central location allowing easy access to each destination on our trip (and they had free breakfast and comped our garage parking—I don’t recommend the free street parking). I was impressed at how accessible every park or neighborhood was, and it only took about 10-15 minutes to get anywhere we wanted to go.

One thing we’ve started doing on trips like this is washing all of our laundry in the hotel laundry room the night before we check out of the hotel. That way, we aren’t heading home with loads of laundry awaiting us. All of our clothes from the week were clean and already folded when we arrived back at our RV campground.

We also found a nearby grocery store and grabbed easy meal items for the hotel to cut down on dining expenses, saving our eating-out budget for places we really wanted to try, rather than just fast food drive-thrus for last-minute meals. I bought stuff for cold deli sandwiches and kept plenty of fresh fruit and veggies, Once Upon a Farm smoothie pouches, packs of nuts, Good and Gather gluten-free bars, and string cheese on hand for snacks. Our mini-fridge was stocked full of healthy items to last us through the week.

Literally the best cupcakes we’ve ever had, right around the corner from where Ranger stayed.

The strawberry cupcakes at Sprinkles were melt-in-your-mouth delicious. The boys tried the gluten-free red velvet with cream cheese frosting.

We packed as much as we could into our time in San Diego, and I still feel like there was so much more to see, much more that we could have done. It’s a culturally diverse city with rich history, natural beauty, and endless fun, and I have a feeling this visit won’t be the last.

Two weeks in.

Since our first two weeks in the RV are in the rearview mirror, I thought I’d answer some common questions and recap how it’s going and what we’ve learned so far about RV travel:

• RVing is dirty. Seriously, there is dirt everywhere. That has been enhanced by the fact that we have a dog and three kids. One of our first purchases so far has been a vacuum (a battery-operated, pet-specific Dyson that disassembles for easy storage), and we pretty much use it every day. The broom just wasn’t cutting it; besides, we are constantly using the broom to sweep off our outdoor rugs. Our daughter perpetually looks as if she’s been eating dirt. Our white towels are quickly becoming dingy, and no amount of bleach can counteract it. Cleaning is a constant thing.

• RVing is a lot of work. Don’t let Instagram fool you. What we #vanlifers and #RVlifers don’t show is the lengthy set-up and tear-down process every time we move to a new location. Hauling laundry to the on-site facility or an off-site laundromat every few days because you don’t have much space to store dirty laundry. How you have to empty your tanks almost every time five family members take showers. There is a lot of technical work involved, and most of it goes over my head. Thankfully, the Mr. likes to research and is figuring it out as we go.

• One of the concerns brought up to us is how our kids will adjust to being cramped inside an RV all the time. “Kids need a yard to play in,” they’ve said. I give you Exhibit A.

• But does it feel like home? Actually, so far, yes. We’ve learned that home is wherever we are together. Wherever we lay our heads and hang our proverbial hats. I love the challenge of making a place, however big or small, feel like a cozy, comforting abode. It doesn’t matter whether we are on top of wheels or a slab foundation. For us, home isn’t defined by the amount of square footage or material possessions we have. It’s the people who live there with us who make it feel like home sweet home.

• If you want to see what your marriage is made of, go on a road trip together. This is advice my best friend gave me before we left our apartment, and she has never been more right. Spending 24 hours a day together in a constantly changing environment will teach you all the things about yourself and your spouse/partner. For example, I’ve learned that the Mr.’s idea of rest is almost the complete opposite of mine. He decompresses by sitting around chilling, and I de-stress best with tough, physical activity. Our parenting styles are different. Our travel styles are different. Our methods of cleaning/organizing/strategizing are all different. So we’re having to learn how to be one as a married couple while maintaining a sense of autonomy. But whatever doesn’t kill us will only make us stronger…right??

• I’ve never had to care more about how much our stuff weighs. We spend 20 percent of our time enjoying the RV, and the other 80 percent calculating and balancing the weight of everything in our travel trailer. (Those numbers are completely made up, but you get the idea.) Since we aren’t just vacationing—we’ve technically moved in—we brought a lot of things from our home that we use on a daily basis. But switching out the standard RV mattress for our organic Avocado hybrid mattress and topper added a lot of weight to the trailer, and our Expedition has a finite towing capacity, so we’re having to compensate somewhere. Anybody want a set of cast iron cooking pans? Or a 65-lb ridgeback pup and his heavy duty crate? (I’m kidding…kind of.) Which brings me to my next point…

• Traveling with a dog is HARD. Well, probably traveling with a maltipoo or a pug isn’t. But traveling with a large-breed, naturally protective, athletic hound dog is. One who is technically a teenager and kind of a jerk sometimes. One who always wants to be where his humans are at all times and in every situation. He is sweet, but he’s clingy. And right now his massive self and his crate take up the majority of our floor space. He can reach the kitchen counter and wants to stick his nose in the flame of the gas stove, or lay his head on our dining table to beg for food. We had to eat lunch in our car yesterday while on the road because it was too hot to leave him in it while we dined inside, and we couldn’t take him in a restaurant. So, having a dog complicates everything. He’s mostly worth it.

• Campgrounds are a generally safe way to allow our kids to have some independence and show responsibility. They have to keep their belongings organized and out of the way. They have to pitch in and help prepare for travel days. Liam wakes early to take the dog out in the mornings. They have to stay together and practice safety protocols when they run off to the playground together. They are learning to identify and avoid danger and respond appropriately to inappropriate people. (Like the little girl who threatened to hurt Eva with a knife or the boy who announced he’d love to meet Satan. Never a dull moment on those campground playgrounds.) At the last campground, the boys practiced communication and business skills by pitching their horse-stall mucking services to the manager at the adjacent horseback riding attraction, and then learned how to handle rejection appropriately when the lady said no.

• Each campground is different, and not every one will be an amazing stay. Our Thousand Trails membership has been a great value so far. For about the price of three months’ rent in Portland, we have access to more than 200 campgrounds nationwide with full hookups and many amenities at no nightly fee. We can stay up to 21 days at each campground and move park-to-park with no downtime in between, for life. However, not every campground has a resort feel. The last campground we stayed in felt more like a cramped parking lot than an RV resort. A couple of campgrounds haven’t had sewer hookups, which requires more work for us. But for the most part, the parks we’ve stayed in have been safe, relaxing, and fun. Our current campground includes a mile-long walking trail, two pools, a fitness center, playgrounds, a dog park, mini-golf and yard games, and planned indoor activities for the kids. Which goes back to point number three—they are doing just fine without a proper backyard.

• Nothing worth having comes without hard work and sacrifice. We all are in the places we are in life because of the choices we’ve made or how we’ve responded to things outside our control, based on our values and priorities. Our family is able to take a break and travel for a bit because we have made a lot of sacrifices, prayed diligently, researched fanatically, and saved money over the course of five years to make this happen. We sold our home, most of our belongings, including our second vehicle, and said no to other things so we’d be in a position financially to travel without full-time jobs for a bit. We have been willing to embrace discomfort for the sake of something better. This didn’t come easily, and it isn’t easy. But for us, the payoff has been absolutely worth it.

And then along came Ranger.

I’m not exactly a dog person. I mean, I have three children, and that’s all the animal I need in my house. I’m more of an intact-leather-sofa, clean-smelling-home-type person.

But it’s really incredible the things you’ll do for those wild animals, isn’t it? Especially when they have their daddy’s smile.

One minute you’re relishing your freedom to go and do wherever and whatever you please and then come home to a nice-smelling, non-chewed up residence, and the next minute you’re fanatically and systematically refreshing the website of a local animal shelter trying to get first pick of the newest drop-offs when their profiles go live that evening.

Our kids have been absolute champs over the past few years. They enthusiastically jumped on board with the notion of leaving family and moving across the country to Portland, where we began a completely different life surrounded by completely new people. After a year of adjusting to private school and two full-time working parents and doing their best to make friends out here in a completely new environment—COVID came rolling in like a mack truck, and overnight, the kids and I were working and schooling from home. Alone. 

It’s not surprising that pet adoptions skyrocketed in 2020.

Still, Kelley and I really didn’t want a dog. I mean, we’d managed to make it 18 years of marriage without one. We knew the hard work that would go into caring for a pet, and honestly, we just didn’t want the inconvenience. Or the additional expense. Or the responsibility. Or the smells.

But you don’t really get a dog for the convenience, do you?

So, two months ago, our family grew by four feet—er, paws.

Meet Ranger the Peacemaker (as his AKC papers refer to him). Ranger, a Rhodesian ridgeback, joined our family in mid-March, and we’ve been acclimating to the pet life ever since.

But we can’t really talk about Ranger without mentioning Rosie, his littermate—our first puppy.

When the Rhodesian ridgebacks from the local animal shelter were adopted ahead of us, we brought Rosie home from an Oregon breeder a few weeks later, before we met Ranger. Though we loved her immediately, she brought a whirlwind of chaos with her. We were exhausted from the constant movement and energy and nipping and biting. The only time we were able to enjoy her was, well, when she was sleeping. I experienced the emotional rollercoaster of post-puppy depression. (Somehow I’d missed the fact that puppies don’t sleep through the night. Why didn’t anyone tell me this??) I’d sit in our bathroom floor and sob, sleep-deprived, sweating from huffing a 20-lb puppy up and down a flight of apartment stairs 12 times a day, and absolutely convinced our life was over. How many more years do we have with her? I’d ask Kelley. At eight weeks old, I was already counting down the days until our life could return to normal.

We’d actually wanted two ridgebacks ever since we read a book about two former CIA operatives-turned-parents who had them (find the book here) and subsequently researched the breed, and I told Kelley I never wanted to go through the puppy phase again, so if the goal was to have two, we would have two NOW. Rip the puppy bandaid off all at once, and then never re-adhere it. Plus, an extra pup would hopefully teach Rosie some bite inhibition and basic manners—and give us all a little break from the gashes and scratches covering our extremities. (Think Rachel Green in the Friends episode where she buys a hairless cat.) The vet agreed, so we contacted the breeder.

Rosie’s breeder had sent us a picture of a male puppy she still had available, and we immediately felt that he needed to be part of our family. Friends told us we were crazy to even consider getting two puppies, and we knew they were right, but we were drawn to him in a way that felt more than just a whim or irresponsible decision. So Kelley and the boys drove the four hours to the breeder’s house one Saturday in Grants Pass and brought him straight home.

Ranger is such a sweet, laid-back, happy puppy. He just wanted to cuddle and rarely nipped at us. He brought with him a sense of calm and peace to our home. Meanwhile, Rosie continued to become more fearful and fear-aggressive, to the point where she would growl and lunge to bite us anytime we tried to handle her. We were constantly walking on eggshells around her, trying our darnedest to keep her calm. We had two different veterinarians and an animal behaviorist express concerns about her being in a home with children, especially one with autism who paced around the apartment several times a day lost in his own imagination. We weren’t even able to allow the kids to interact with her.

It didn’t take long for us to realize that this wasn’t the right home for Rosie, and the most loving thing we could do for her was to help find her a home in which she could thrive. As painful as it was to say goodbye to our first family pet, we coordinated with the Rhodesian Ridgeback Rescue of Oregon to rehome her. (The breeder wouldn’t take her back, unfortunately.) She is now enjoying a loving home, without children, with an owner who’s owned three ridgebacks before her.

Immediately our home was peaceful again. We still miss Rosie, but Ranger has been the best little (er, quickly becoming massive) companion for our family.

Rhodesian ridgebacks are an incredible breed. Originally bred to track down and bay lions in South Africa, they are a blend of greyhound, bloodhound, mastiff, African khoikhoi, and Great Dane. They have a signature ridge of hair down their spine that grows in the opposite direction and looks much like a faux-hawk. They are independent, naturally protective, affectionate, intelligent, and athletic, but not hyper like Labradors and boxers or threatening like pit bulls.

Ranger has already doubled in size and weight, and he will grow to likely be close to 100 pounds when fully grown. Despite his size, he is a loving little snuggler. He is our Ferdinand the bull—his favorite activity is sitting in the sunshine smelling the grass and wildflowers. He is friendly and well-adjusted and is responding surprisingly well to training. Our hope is to one day certify him as a service dog. (Though Rhodesian ridgebacks aren’t typically trained as service dogs, he has the right temperament and has been very responsive to cues already.) We just recently certified him as an emotional support animal for Riley, but he really has been just that for all of us. He is exactly what our family didn’t even know we needed, and we are so excited for him to join us in all our future adventures!

Snowshoeing on the Mirror Lake Trail

Tucked away neatly off Mount Hood Highway 26 between Welches and Government Camp lies the unassuming entrance to the beautiful Mirror Lake Trail. It’s the good-natured wingman to Mt. Hood Adventure Park—the quiet but cute counterpart to the boisterous, showy life-of-the-party originator of cosmic tubing and night skiing. But that’s the thing about wingmen—they are most often the ones actually worth getting to know. (I should know; I married one.)

While Mt. Hood Adventure Park may be full of obvious fun, the trail that shares its entrance doesn’t need all the bells and whistles. Instead, it relies on its understated but breathtaking natural landscape to lure in visitors—teasing views of neighboring mountainsides, sounds of water bubbling over rocks, glimmers of sunlight dancing on top of gleaming, crisp white billows of snow. It’s absolutely magical, awe-inspiring and drool-worthy for this Southern-born brood.

Our family spent the better part of New Year’s Eve breaking in our newly unwrapped snowshoes, sweating off our abundantly consumed holiday treats in a 22-degree winter wonderland on a two-mile stretch of the trail. While other families sipped champagne to bid sayonara to 2021, we sipped piping hot soup in Stanley canisters in our heated Subaru after trekking two-and-a-half hours almost four miles round-trip on a two-foot-wide path through a maze of powdery alpine snowdrifts.

The kids enjoyed the Yukon Charlie Snowsquall kids’ snowshoe kit from REI.

Our snowshoeing day trip sparked the beginning of a whirlwind romance; it was love at first try. Though our family of five initially looked more like newborn foals finding their legs, clonking and clapping through the icy parking lot, leaning a little too heavily on our poles for support, we quickly got the hang of it and slid single-file into a leisurely rhythm through the woods. With snowdrifts up to our shoulders in places, picturesque powder-piled bridges laid across bubbly brooks in others, we had left Portland in the rearview mirror and once again traversed the wardrobe into Narnia. All that was missing was a lamppost and friendly fawn.

The trail was so well packed that snowshoes probably weren’t necessary, but they added to the rigor and increased our trail-cred among the other outdoor enthusiasts we encountered. And there were plenty; it seemed we weren’t the only ones who unconventionally venture outdoors on holidays. We bid a Happy New Year about every five minutes to other snowshoers and cross-country skiers on the trail. One couple even brought along a bottle of wine for their hike and toasted to an exquisite mountaintop view through the treetops. The thing about outdoorsy people is they are almost always happy.

Breaking in the MSR Revo Explore women’s 22-in. snowshoes from REI.com. They wrap around my old hunting boots just fine. (You can take a girl out of the South but can never take the South out of the girl.)

The Mirror Lake Trail is wide enough for one person, but you’ll be hard pressed to find hikers who aren’t more than willing to cheerfully step aside for passersby. Everyone we encountered was high on holiday spirit and endorphins.

The question I get most often from friends is, “Don’t you get cold out there?!” Honestly, we don’t. The good thing about snowshoeing in a forest is that the trees block the wind, so it doesn’t feel as cold as the thermometer registers. (I personally haven’t been cold since I birthed my third child.) If anything, we overdress for the activity and need to shed layers. The kids started out with full head-to-toe coverage and eventually shed their balaclavas (bonus points if you can tell me how to pronounce that word), toboggans (or beanies, for you PNWers) and gloves and unzipped their 3-in-1 jackets. With winter outdoor activities, the trick to staying comfortable is to keep snow from touching your skin; waterproof (not water-resistant) gear is essential for enjoying long days out in the PNW alpine winter.

The only drawback was that we failed to realize the trail wound up a mountain. (I naively thought the lake would be at a lower elevation. I blame my near-sea-level Alabama upbringing.) Even though the temp was in the 20s, we huffed and puffed and shed layers along the trail. I personally cursed those extra helpings of Christmas cookies and creamy dips that made every step a painful reminder that I had foolishly foregone exercise over the holidays. Even after a snack break, we didn’t quite make it to the lake; we stopped about a half-mile short when the trail narrowed and the slope of the mountain steepened. Our 6-year-old had tired out and was beginning to lose good walking form, and I started having visions of violent avalanches and kids tumbling down the mountain like boulders. But the outing was magical nonetheless and earned its place on our list of Oregon destinations to revisit regularly.

First snow of the season + how to prepare for a family snow day

The most anticipated day of the year in our household finally came this past weekend.

No, it wasn’t anyone’s birthday. Nor was it a special holiday. But you’re getting warmer (or perhaps I say colder?)…

Saturday was our first day trip to Mount Hood to go sledding, hiking, and basically just rolling and stomping around in the first big snow of the season.

We are fortunate enough to live in an eastern suburb of Portland that is about an hour-long drive to the notorious snow-covered peak, and we’ve been keeping an eye on the weather for more than a month anxiously awaiting the day that we could dig out our snow gear from the back of our closets and plan a day trip to the mountain. It’s one of our favorite outdoor activities.

There are plenty of sno parks and ski lodges to choose from in Oregon, but our favorite spot on Mount Hood is White River West off Highway 35. It’s a massive (normally rocky) area where a rushing creek slices through the middle of a wide-open space between two treelines, and it has the perfect hills for sledding and trails for hiking or snow-shoeing or cross-country skiing—basically any activity you’d love to do in the snow. And it’s rarely overly crowded.

And this past weekend, it got dumped on.

We grew up in the South, so for us, cruising down the 26 until we enter what feels like the portal to Narnia is magical every time we do it. I mean, this ain’t no Alabama dusting or sporadic ice storm. Back home, if we’re lucky enough to see even a few snowflakes, we can head outside in jeans and a T-shirt and not shiver once. But in Oregon, we’re talking waist-deep snowdrifts. Initially, we felt way out of our depths when it came to preparing for snow sports here. And we’ve learned the hard way that the secret to actually enjoying a day in the snow, rather than shivering your buns off, is all in the preparation. So I’ve put together a few tips that will ensure your day in the snow doesn’t turn into the Great Meltdown (figuratively and literally).

Invest in the right clothing. While this is true of most outdoor activities, it’s especially important in extreme weather. Having snow creep up your pants leg or your own sweat freeze against your skin would mean game over. So, we layer this way:

1. A base layer that wicks moisture away from the skin (don’t even think about cotton; think wool or poly blend, or even activewear with wicking technology). You can make economical choices here; I wear my Calia running tights with a thermal base layer top that I bought at Target. The Mr. and the kids wear basic All in Motion brand thermal sets, also from Target.

2. Wool winter socks. Technically, this is still a base layer, so again, think moisture-wicking to prevent clammy, cold feet.

3. Waterproof bibs. These really are the secret sauce. We invested in good-quality snow bibs, and they haven’t failed us yet. The Mr. and I have these and these Burton bibs from REI.com, and the kids each have this one from Columbia (in black, so we can pass them down to the next kid when the older sibling outgrows theirs). The benefit of buying bibs is that, unlike pants, you don’t have to worry about snow creeping down into your waistband. Our kids literally roll around and crawl in the snow and stay completely warm and dry for hours.

   The kids’ bibs are insulated; the grown-ups’ are not. I’m pretty hot-natured, so this combination works for me. But waterproof technology (rather than water resistant) is the key. Bibs are specifically designed to have an additional inner layer that cinches at the bottom of the leg (called a cuff guard) to prevent snow from creeping in. I love that the kid’s bibs were also designed with Outgrown technology, meaning we can let the seams out and extend them to get another year or more of wear out of them. Bibs can be expensive, so we raided our local Columbia outlet and found these at a fraction of the cost.

4. Insulated, waterproof outer layer. We prefer the 3-in-1 interchange coats from Columbia. Like the kids’ bibs, their coats also have the Outgrown expandable/extendable technology to extend their wearability. We also like that the inner shell is insulated, and could be taken out depending on the outside temp, but the outer layer is completely waterproof. We also like Columbia’s insulated and waterproof gloves, which have clasps to fasten them to each other and cinch around the wrists. Another outlet find for the family bought with a BOGO deal. (Columbia is basically our favorite go-to for most outdoor activities. Not an affiliate; just a true fan.)

5. Insulated, waterproof boots. We bought these for the kids, and the Mr. and I use our hunting boots, which keep our feet toasty warm and completely dry.

6. Hats, gaiters, headbands…This is all personal. Our daughter and I like fleece headbands or wool toboggans (or beanies, as they call them in the PNW); the guys all wear beanies. Sometimes, if it’s snowing or the wind is blowing, we’ll add gaiters, but usually we don’t need them. (Our jackets also have built-in face guards.)

Take the right supplies. Depending on the actual snow sport you enjoy, the list of necessary supplies will look different. But for a typical day out in the snow that includes sledding, hiking, building a snowman, etc., these are the things we take with us:

1. A backpack. They make backpacks especially for snow sports, but we found our hiking backpacks are the best option for us. (They’re from Osprey; I have the Mira and Kelley has the Manta.) They are water resistant and include a rain cover if it's pretty wet out; they include all the best pockets and storage and even a water reservoir, and they are ergonomically designed to be worn comfortably for extended periods of time.

2. Trekking poles. You can spend a small fortune on trekking poles, but we found these on Amazon that work perfectly. They include mud and snow baskets, tips for concrete or rocky surfaces, end caps and a bag for storage, and the ability to adjust the length to accommodate both my 5’2” self and my 6’ husband. And since they’re made from carbon fiber, they are lightweight, and the ergonomical cork handles are also a plus. They make all the difference when hiking through thigh-deep snow and are a knee-saver when traversing hills.

3. First aid kit. We’ve had our share of minor injuries while out in the snow and learned our lesson the hard way how important it is to be prepared. (I’ll never forget having to wipe my daughter’s bloodied nose with her COVID mask.) We have this one and this one.

4. Water. Even though it can be a pain to haul around filled stainless steel water bottles for a family of five, it’s definitely a necessary thing to have when you’re huffing and puffing out in the middle of the forest. It can get really chilly trying to quench your thirst by eating snow. (And there is always the less heavy water bladder option.)

5. Snacks. Packs of trail mix or granola bars can extend the amount of time we can spend with the kids out in the snow before we need to grab a decent meal. Playing in the snow is excellent exercise, and they can work up quite an appetite, even if they don’t break a sweat.

6. Hand and toe warmers. These pocket-sized instant warmers are nice to have on hand.

7. Chapstick or petroleum jelly. Spreading a thin layer of Vaseline on our faces before heading out in the snow helps prevent wind-chapped faces, and keeping Chapstick handy is also beneficial for the same reason.

8. Odds and ends. We always take a flashlight, a pocket knife, hand sanitizer, a compass, an emergency whistle, travel microfiber towels, and sunscreen in our backpacks as well. In fact, these never leave our bag, so they’re always on hand if we were to need them when we venture outdoors.

9. Snow toys/tools. Our family shares three sleds, and we take a shovel with us to help shovel out a sled path and “steps” to help the kids climb back up to the top of the hill.

Set appropriate expectations. With any outing we enjoy as a family, we prepare our kids beforehand by reminding them of the possibility that plans may fall through, and that flexibility is essential. We also give details of our plan for the day so that our kids know what’s coming next, and the rules for how we expect them to behave. This kind of priming helps prevent bad attitudes before they start. Also, as parents we aim to have realistic expectations of what our kids can handle. (They probably won’t enjoy a two-hour hike as much as I do, and they probably won’t be able to walk in the snow as fast as Dad can.) We try to move at their pace as much as possible while also encouraging them to try things out of their comfort zones. But respecting their capacities makes adventuring as a family more fun for everyone.

What is your favorite snow activity? Are there any essentials you would add to this list?

We do it together.

Saturday morning came bright and early, as our spunky 6-year-old bounced into our room in her floral nightgown around 6:30 and announced it was time to get up and get going. Through blurry eyes and sleepy yawns, we agreed that it was okay to get up early, and she immediately ran back to her room to issue marching orders to her brothers. “They said we can get up! Let’s get dressed!”

This past weekend, our family participated in the Portland Bubble Run, a three-and-a-half-mile fun run that has bubble stations located at checkpoints along the course, where runners pass through drifts of colorful cotton candy bubbles as tall as their heads. One could lose a small child in the sea of brightly colored foam, so parents are encouraged to hold onto their kids as they run through it. It sounded fun, so we signed our family up and ran it together, weaving through other participants and wiping bubbles out of each other’s hair along the way.

We receive quite a bit of questioning looks from others when we tell them we’re running a race as a family, and I get it. We aren’t the typical American family whose weekends are filled with soccer tournaments and ballet recitals and darting from here to there in the family minivan. In our particular circles, we are the exception, and most of the time we stick out like a sore thumb. And we’re okay with it.

Early on in our marriage, Kelley and I agreed that togetherness as a family was something we valued and would make a priority. We didn’t want to be like ships passing in the night, frantically running from one activity to the next while eating our meals wrapped in paper from behind a seatbelt. And when kid number three came along, we were outnumbered without extra adults around to help out, so everyone in the family pursuing separate interests became a logistical nightmare.

Sure, we may not be exposing our children to every single activity that our community has to offer, but we intentionally offer them something that we believe will serve them better in the long run—quality time with their parents. And if there is an activity that interests them, we look for ways to enjoy it together.

Even if that thing is running.

Kelley and I were both athletes growing up, and our sports involved a lot of running. (As a cross-country teamer, my sport was running.) Kelley and I ran a half marathon and multiple smaller races pre-kids, so running as a family activity is not exactly unconventional for us. Liam has always been a high-energy kid, so much so that as a toddler I would run him on the treadmill to burn through some of that energy (he loved it!). He ran his first 5K at age 6 alongside his dad in 27:00 flat. Our middle and youngest kids have run mile-long fun runs before, but this past weekend was their first 5K.

The race had staggered start times, and as my old cross country instincts kicked in, I strategized how we could start in front of the pack. I set the pace, with three sets of tiny footsteps pounding the pavement behind me, Kelley trying not to run me over with his 6-foot-frame and long stride. 

Our boys would shout, “Sneak through the window!” to each other as they wound around groups of women speed-walking in purple tutus and moms pushing double strollers. They quickened their pace when they noticed another child approaching them from behind, not to be outrun. “Watch that patch of gravel!” “Runner on your right!” “Slow your pace around this curve!” We ran as a team, instructing, strategizing, and encouraging each other along the trail. We took turns pointing out the most outlandish costumes we found (running in crazy outfits is a whole culture, apparently—we saw a couple of brides and a gang in animal pajamas). And when I had to stop at the portapotties midway through (thank you, three childbirths), my teammates waited for me without complaining.

Even when Eva tripped on the gravel path and bloodied her knees and hands, I reminded her that bandaids would only be found at the finish line; we couldn’t stop in the middle of the course. So, she stood up, brushed the dust off her floral leggings, wiped her tears, and blocked out the sting to finish the race, chanting, “I can do this. I'm strong and brave and smart,” over and over under her breath as she leaned into the hills and pushed away the fatigue. I held her hand and ran beside her, reminding her that she was strong and would finish what she started.

After she and I were greeted by our men as we crossed the finish line, we proudly accepted our participation medals and celebrated our victory with mountains of frozen yogurt spilling over with yummy toppings. (Eva’s been wearing her medal every day since the race.)

We like to purposefully tackle challenges as a family, and our kids learn from their parents how to overcome obstacles and develop grit and mental toughness. And even though they aren’t playing team sports, they still learn what it means to be a part of a team, one comprised of a varied age range, with those who love them the most. We work together, whether it’s helping each other along the running trail or packing up camp in the forest or climbing a steep natural staircase to a waterfall.

And we celebrate the wins over frozen yogurt.

Embracing less to experience more.

We don’t always make life changes, but when we do, it’s “go big or go home.”

Which is exactly what we did. In July, we moved from our already cozy 1,000-square-foot ranch home with the big fenced backyard to a 972-square-foot apartment flat with a balcony. We’ve had some interesting reactions to this, so I thought I’d take a moment to explain our decision.

I started feeling the urge to get our home ready to sell when COVID-19 sent everyone into quarantine. We were some of the newer employees at our organization, so I wanted to be prepared in the event we were laid off and needed to sell our home. But the more we worked on our home, I kept having the thought, Well, what if we sold our home anyway?

The market was the best it had been or probably would be, so we felt confident we would receive the most for our home that we’d probably be able to get without putting a lot of serious work into it. Built in 1960, our home had some major impending repairs, if we stayed for much longer: the electrical, plumbing, original hardwood floors, and roof would all need replacing, and we didn’t have, nor would we want to spend, that kind of money on this particular house. Financially, it was a smart decision to sell, and with that sell, we were able to pay off credit card debt, auto loans, my student loan and medical bills, and create a generous emergency fund. The breathing room and peace of mind this has given us is simply priceless.

I also learned during quarantine that we lived two doors down from a drug house. During the day, we had a steady stream of “customers” parking stolen cars in front of our home and walking down to that house, and it was unsettling being home by myself with three kids. While we lived in a generally safe and quiet neighborhood, it really only takes one bad apple to spoil the bunch. We were constantly on high alert, and the residents of that home were becoming increasingly volatile. So we felt it was time to move on.

One of our family values is spending time adventuring together, but we spent so much of our time and money maintaining a home that it cut into our quality time as a family. Days off were filled with yard work and chores. Extra money that could be saved for travel was often spent on repairs or upgrades to the house. Downsizing to an apartment has afforded us the extra budget and time for the things we really enjoy. Evenings and weekends can be spent outdoors or exploring our beautiful state rather than on home maintenance.

For years, the house was the goal, as it is for many Americans. We’ve always heard that renting is just throwing away money, and that we should invest in real estate at the first opportunity. But renting offers a chance to invest in a life based on our values—debt-free, family-focused, people-serving, adventure-seeking—that owning a home just couldn’t offer (at least not with home prices in Portland). Besides, there’s a pool here.

The day we moved into our new space, I watched our daughter pirouette across the empty living room floor of our home as we said goodbye, and I thought about how much I would miss the house. The midcentury modern ranch layout with craftsman touches sprinkled in. Sitting under the twinkle lights on the back porch with my handsome man and a glass of wine after putting the kids to bed. Laying on a blanket in the backyard with my girl watching the planes fly overhead (oh yeah, we lived in a flight path). Fire pits with s’mores and backyard campouts. Sitting outside after schoolwork was over, racing to finish our popsicles before they dripped down our palms. Observing the baby bunny that lived under our shed lose its downy fluff and grow into its long legs through spring and summer. Playing volleyball and running through the sprinkler and chatting over the fence with our elderly neighbor—the one with the green thumb and the 8-foot corn stalks in his backyard. Processing deep theological truths over coffee in the living room with ladies in my small groups.

It was a place of refuge for our family over the past two years, and we made it our own. It was a place of exponential personal growth for each of us. But even with the emotions that inevitably bubble up after moving on, there is peace in taking a huge step to live more simply and attain financial freedom.

It’s odd that, now that we’ve been in the apartment for a month, we don’t really even think about our old house. Even without our big backyard, extra fridge in the garage, and home gym, we are enjoying our new space. Even with one less bedroom, we gained one more bathroom, some great amenities, and no maintenance. (Did I mention the pool?)

Less yard work, more weekend adventures. Less stuff, more creativity. Less chores, more hikes. Less repairs, more long-term savings. Less space, more togetherness.

Always and forever embracing less in order to experience so much more.