Interstitial :: August
The hard part about having goals is the way "regular" life often gets in the way.
This Summer has been one of the most insane adventures of our lives.
We began looking toward our only vacation a year with Mark working seven days a week, repeating the mantra that after our vacation everything would be different once we had a chance to relax; once we finished our projects we were at; once we had a chance to reevaluate; once we created specific goals and timelines; once, once, once, once, once.
But that isn't really how life works, is it?
My maternal grandfather passed away after a long Summer of struggling. The kids and I had the great privilege of being there with our family during the last few days of his life and at the end. It was not the thing I thought I would be doing with the kids this Summer. I thought our first camping trip would be out in the wild somewhere, maybe along the Columbia, not in my grandparents living room. But such is life.
Death puts so many things in sharp perspective.
There is no "once" and the work is never done. You choose what you want to prioritize. You just do. Even if it means you're a bit more broke, or a bit more tired, or a bit more crazy.
Our goal is to have more adventures. To spend more time with the people we love. To do more of the projects we want to do. To do more together.
We want to be in the sunlight, where the wind is blowing and where the ocean is whispering and where the mountains are calling. All of which is only possible if we keep trying our best and taking time to do what matters instead of what might make the most number of dollars.
It is a crazy thing to put faith in yourself.
So seemingly simple, but it takes insane amounts of courage. Although I am wild child to the core, I lack confidence and I struggle to have gratitude. Both of which are crucial in to have faith in yourself and your capabilities, and those of your family members.
We are moving into the life we want. Slowly and painfully. Instead of working seven days a week, we are camping while we build yurts on farmland for friends. Instead of accepting big jobs, we are spending more time creating art and furniture and custom pieces. Instead of "hustling" we are choosing to be more intentional.
There are sacrifices being made on every front, consequences positive and negative, but we are working toward the life we ultimately want. And is there anything better than that?
Being in the middle of your story, the middle of a chapter, is often confusing and frustrating. There is no hindsight to allow for reflection, there is no "end" or clean finish, there is no string tying every random thing together - yet.
And maybe there never will be, but it remains a wonder to be living in the interstice.