Sometimes it's not about finding beauty in paradise.
Sometimes, you find yourself in the middle of murky, uncharted waters, and it's here, where the truest beauty (often in the form of brilliant courage) arrives.
Jessie taught me that tonight. And with mud-stained-feet, I am so grateful.
Today was a story about long winding roads, and flip flops with mis-matched socks.
Icicles melting into waters the color of luck and eyes-closed pebble wishes hinged on hope.
Today was a story about faith, and what happens when, even in the face of fear, we choose instead to listen only to our hearts.
Three generations met beside a waterfall
While the chimes and songbirds serenaded
Under an endless Texas sky
We live in a 25 foot Airstream. We don't have another house to call home. This, the road, is it.
It's been almost a year of living this way, state-to-state, river-to-river, and while I share a bunch about it on my instagram, (and the pages of my beautiful journal) I keep my words to a minimum on here.
I captured this image last week while watching the sunrise over Saint George Island. As I sat there, with the glow warming my face, I kept hearing this in my head:
I signed up for an adventure. Not a vacation.
Thomas broke his collarbone and my hair all burned off and vertigo and and and... but this is exactly what it's all about. The adventure. The blisters from hiking and the clothes freezing on the clothesline and all of it.
These will be the days I will miss the most, even the hardest ones. That much I know, for sure.
My worst day of freedom, is a billion times better than my best day hiding in fear.
