11/24/2013 – In the beginning, there was a camper.

11/24/2013

I’ve kicked myself many times in my 25 year life for not keeping a journal.  Today, I will stop kicking myself and start writing stories.  Undoubtedly many of the things I write will be silly and sarcastic, but I hope to be just as transparent and genuine as I am light-hearted.  That’s one of my biggest regrets; I’ve always covered up so much of who I am with sarcasm and jokes because I don’t feel like showing who I really am.   I will, for now, devote this blog to sharing how challenging God’s existence was the best thing I ever did, what life’s like for a CPA/hippie and how having a family business is the best thing that ever happened to my family.

Okay, first post, here goes nothing.

Tuesday (11/12/2013), I woke up and just couldn’t get last summer’s trip to Guatemala out of my mind.  I will devote a later post to telling the whole story of what happened there, but basically I came back with a desire to live a minimalistic lifestyle and to eventually pour everything I have into helping abused children and specifically sexually abused and trafficked girls.  That morning, I had this grand idea to start journaling, as I’ve always thought and then failed miserably, so I grabbed my most special journal that had been to Guatemala with me and previously to Peru (both life-changing trips done alone as a result of God’s sick sense of humor).  I threw the journal in my car with intentions of swinging by my favorite Greek café/coffee shop (Santorini Café) after work and journaling about how I feel so called to live with a purpose, avoid the pitfalls of the American Dream and devote myself to helping those who can’t help themselves.  As history would predict, I did nothing with my journal that day.  Instead, I went to crossfit and hurt my ankle, forgetting about the journal completely. 

The next day, Wednesday, I received the call from my apartment complex that there had been a problem and our apartment was flooded due to someone breaking a pressurized fire-sprinkler line above our unit.  When I arrived to see the damage, it was so weird.  All of our stuff was soaked, and my journal, had it been in the spot where I picked it up the day before, would have been ruined by inches of standing water.  I couldn’t help but immediately think of how God was giving me a chance to further run from materialism and take a step closer to being able to give everything for the defenseless children he has placed on my heart.  In addition to this desire to live a minimalistic lifestyle and avoid being enslaved to the American Dream, I have long been infatuated with living in tiny homes and RVs.  Actually, my wonderful wife, Katy, had finally agreed to move into an RV with me a few months prior (contingent on my willingness to seek traditional dwelling should she bear child at some future date), but we just couldn’t work out all the details.   This was my chance.  I stood there in my soaked apartment, in a graveyard of ruined junk and knew one thing for sure.  I don’t know where we’re going, but we’re going camping.  This is God’s way of freeing us from all of our material possessions and letting us focus on what’s important.  I felt peace and confidence.

Don’t get me wrong, the eight days that followed the flood contained a lot of me being pissed at the world and most likely acting like a complete ass (you’d have to confirm that with my wife to be sure).  I knew that God was giving us an opportunity, and I knew that I was about to go camping for at least 9 months with my beautiful wife, but as humans tend to do, I cussed the blessing before me.   In those eight days, I lost my temper with many humans, considered punching one and just couldn’t find my groove.   I’ve always been a bit of a control freak, and this experience was just another way that God has shown me over the last few years that I can’t control anything without him.  The life lessons continued even after a good friend delivered his camper for us to borrow while we’re shopping for our own.  Last Thursday night was cold and rainy, and all I wanted to do was get the rig hooked up and go to bed.  But, I’ll be damned if I didn’t lock my keys in my car with the headlights on and facing my new neighbors at the RV park.  Two locksmiths, $130 and a smirk from my wife later, I was sitting in an RV without any control and with a peaceful feeling that God is in control, I get to live in an RV and what the heck else matters?