I wasn’t born an adventurous person. I am a homebody at heart. I love long quiet afternoons, naps, cups of herbal tea and getting lost in a good book. And for many years I hid in my home doing just that while building walls to protect myself from the “unknown,” which was nearly everything outside my front door.
I married my high school sweetheart at nineteen years old, and we lived a very typical life together—working, saving money, dreaming of the 4 bedroom house we would build, the 3 car garage my husband would have, and the cars we would buy to fill it.
I would tell you I was happy, but deep down I was afraid.
I was afraid of traveling (even if that meant 20 minutes away), being uncomfortable, of not knowing what was coming next and anything that was unfamiliar. For the majority of my late teens and early twenties, fear became my master. And I obeyed, hoping that if I just insulated myself from all that seemed so frightening, then I could live and be happy. But that was a lie. I learned I could never insulate myself enough because there was always something new to worry about, something still unknown to be afraid of. Life was passing by around me and I had my front door firmly bolted shut. I was saying no.
It wasn’t until after our first baby was born that things began to change. I had obeyed fear for many years at this point, and I was becoming worn out from its cruelty. I knew that something needed to change. I began to seek God. I began to finally ignore many of my fears and believe that I was loved just as I was. And then one day, I felt God asking me to let go of my fear of traveling. It was still something I avoided, but in that moment I had this picture in my mind of someone gently taking my tightly clenched fist and opening it up to receive something beautiful. And so, for the first time, I said yes, and I began to believe that I could overcome that fear.
It wasn’t long after that when my husband approached me with news that he would be sent to Scotland to work for a few months. Scotland! Here was my chance to walk out my “yes,” even though I was still afraid. But for a few weeks that magical summer we lived in a little apartment near cobblestoned streets, old granite buildings and rich green hills. I couldn’t believe that me of all people traveled across the ocean and was walking around in another country! I couldn’t stop smiling. I loved the little shops near us, the cheese shop and the flower shop. I loved the library that was over 100 years old and I loved the little farmer’s market we visited one weekend. I loved the cold North Shore. I loved walking everywhere even though that meant sometimes lugging groceries and pushing a stroller in the rain. I loved that I had done what I never thought I could possibly do. And it was there I began to bud. It was there I began to receive that beautiful gift, me—fully alive, fully tasting, touching, living this life God had given me to live. Saying yes to all it could offer. I came home a changed woman.
Fast forward four years. My husband and I were settled on a beautiful 2 acre country property living with another family, sharing close community, awaiting the birth of our third daughter. My husband had been working at the same company for 11 years. He had accelerated past his peers and had traveled and worked many long hours. He was beginning to see that there was no end to the working world. There were always more deadlines, more projects, and more problems to fix. He had started with the company when he was only twenty, and now those 11 years seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. How could time pass by so quickly? We both realized we didn't want to waste any more time. We were ready for more of life, to really drink it all in, see what it had to offer. We were ready, to not just bud, but to bloom and thrive in the unknowns God had waiting for us. After a meaningful conversation one late night, we agreed: we were ready to leave all we had known behind to travel as a family, to grow into all we could be, to bond closer together, to store up meaningful relationships and experiences rather than things. We were wholeheartedly saying YES to a future free from fear, free from restriction and full of hope to live out what we truly cared about.
After discussing all of our travel options, we knew we wanted to live on a sailboat with our children and travel together, hoping to one day venture into foreign lands where we could experience different people and cultures. We knew it sounded crazy. We knew people wouldn't understand. But we understood. We understood that there would be indescribable beauty woven throughout all the daily challenges we would face. And we knew there would be challenges: living in a small space, being dependent on the changing, fickle nature of the weather, learning a brand new skill, not having easy access to showers, washers or dryers, traveling with two small children and an infant, and constantly being surrounded by that which is unfamiliar. Everything would be new and different. But the challenge was part of the reason we were jumping in. We felt all too well the slow, silent atrophy of a life lived on autopilot. We knew a life lived intentionally held the space we needed to live out our values. And we knew it needed to be now. We weren't satisfied with "someday," we were ready to jump in, with hearts and hands wide open.
We felt all too well the slow, silent atrophy of a life lived on autopilot. We knew a life lived intentionally held the space we needed to live out our values. And we knew it needed to be now.
We recently spent three weeks on our 47' sailboat before traveling back home to finish the sale of our house and to pack up the rest of our belongings. And even through several days of inclement weather, leaks in our boat, and the chaos of moving, we loved what each new day brought for us. As someone who used to be afraid to venture outside my front door, I never thought I would love life out on the open water, but being there, I was often held in wonder and amazement.
While on the boat, I love waking up to the water, birds in the air with the sun peeking out over the horizon. I love the coziness of the boat's interior and the creativity required to bring the family together. I love living kinder and gentler toward the earth. On a boat it becomes crucial to think about the impact we'll be having toward the sea and land around us. Thinking about where our water comes from and where it goes, the products we use the trash we produce—it’s a more than worthwhile challenge. I love seeing my children embrace change and new challenges. And I love the fiery sunsets that take my breath away every single night.
I never thought this quiet, reserved homebody would grow up to be a wife and mama who embraced adventure and the unknown, but I can't think of a more exciting place to be. I know our decision to live and travel on a boat with our children will give us the space to live out our values in a truly radical way. Adventure, freedom, togetherness—I‘m saying YES!