Blog

Several years ago, I thought it’d be a great idea to start a blog. Everyone’s doing it, right?!? I purchased this little online space, and then proceeded to ignore it except for once or twice a year. We’ve lived a lot of life in those handful of years… homes bought and sold, international trips traveled and lots of adventures closer to home, foster kiddos brought into our family, the adoption of our youngest little Squish, and lots of everyday types of stories.

But this year… 2020. What a whirlwind!! And somehow, we’ve found ourselves pulling our home on wheels behind us on the road, headed out on a big adventure. This will be the longest trip away from our traditional “home” since the year Ryan and I were married. Armed with chromebooks and hotspots and a whole of snacks, we’re taking The Adventuring Smiths on the road, with distance learning in tow. 

And since I’ll be spending several hours here in the front seat of our truck every few days, I figured.. what better time to revisit this little virtual space than now!?! So here goes nothing… 

DAY ONE!

I bought myself an anniversary present. Meet Clyde, the newest member of our tribe.

Taking this little one to the beach for the first time was pretty magical.

She was terrified of the water. So worried that I would let go of her hand, that I wouldn’t scoop her up when the wave came. It wasn’t unlike our older kiddos at age three… except that they never questioned whether or not I would rescue them from the crashing water.

Honestly, I got a little irritated.

Just hold my hand! This is supposed to be fun! Why are you still screaming!? 

“I’ve got you. I won’t let go. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

We sat back down in the sand as she clung to me, eyes still wide and scanning for waves. It seems so unfair that she has learned in just three short years of life to never let her guard down, never trust, never know that she’s safe.

When it’s hard and exhausting and downright infuriating, I want to still teach her to trust. Trust in something bigger than her, than me, than all of us. Trust and hope for eternity, even when the waves are crashing.

Ryan always reminds me that we’ll give an account of time here. My account will be mostly filled with impatience and pride, selfishness and stubbornness. So I take a deep breath and take her hand again, wiping tears and snot and sand from her face. And pray for grace, as we walk back towards the waves.