(Our family is on a five month RV trip. We are journeying West from Dallas, TX and making our way up the Western coastline finishing in Washington state before we streamline our way back to CO for the summer.)

Our unfinished Ranch House

Within an hour of porting back in Seattle, we nearly ran off of the Alaskan cruise ship, picked up the dogs from boarding, and hit the highway bound for Colorado. We’d originally talked about taking our time and staying at several RV parks on our journey home, but excitement took the wheel. Home was calling.

We decided to split the trip up into just two long days of driving. We traced our finger along the driving route on the Atlas and picked a spot 12 hours down the road.

Aleyna rode with John in the truck pulling the fifth-wheel. Alek rode with me in the SUV. I set my navigation system, put in a worship CD, and bawled my eyes out for the better part of the day.

Alek, engrossed in a book in the third row with the dogs, was unaware that his mom was having a mini meltdown. At the time I didn’t know exactly why I was so upset.

I did know that we’d set out on this RV journey some five months ago hoping to build attachment bonds. That did not happen. In fact, it felt as though we’d gone backwards. It wasn’t any one thing but rather all the things together that weighed me down. I’d remained strong and I think I finally let my guard down.

Something was brewing deep in my soul.

Twelve driving hours into the trip, we set up the RV, slept eight hours and hit the road again fully caffeinated. At dusk, we turned down the most familiar road our RV had never seen. We bought the rig in Texas, departed from Texas, and had traveled up the west coast for five months.

For the first time, we were setting up the rig in Colorado, just steps from our ranch house that wasn’t quite ready for occupants.

Our ranch is directly across the street from a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains and a national park with campsites. Who knew that our last campsite would be across the street from our 100-acre ranch?

We actually voted our local campsite as the best one of the trip! Gorgeous setting, over-sized, private sites on a lake, and fire pits sealed the deal for us. We could be a tad bit biased.

After several days finalizing details with the ranch house contractor, we headed back to Denver to handle the details on the flooded house remodel. Remember that story? Right after Blake’s Mini Cooper accident?

So off we went to re-stage that home to go back on the market, oh, and see a therapist.

My intention for the counseling appointment was to let the kids talk to our trusted counselor individually while I sat scrolling Facebook in the lobby. A quick debrief to update him as to our visit led to a two-hour session for me.

He’s walked with our family through some tumultuous times.

He knows my heart. He’s safe. He’s honest. He’s full of grace. He understands the trials and tribulations of parenting adopted kids. He doesn’t hold back. He validates my feelings and me.

He told me what I already knew. He gave me the courage to face it.

Afterward, I processed everything with John. We knew that a break from the kids was in order. An Internet search turned up a teen missions trip that would take each kid to different countries serving the underprivileged.

Not only would they get leadership training but hopefully, the time away from family would also give each of them a chance to lean on God.

Within a few days, the kids packed duffels for seven weeks away and boarded an airplane bound for training in Florida. After two weeks of training, they’d spend five weeks in the field along with 24 other team members doing construction work, VBS, drama presentations, and music for community children and adults in Honduras and Dominican Republic. Teams spread out in over 32 countries.

John and I used the seven weeks to decompress.

I got back in the gym. We moved into the ranch house. We staged the Denver house. We laughed over dinner with friends and sought wise counsel. We talked, prayed, and spent time alone.

Everything wasn’t all right but the timing was right; the timing of the kids’ mission trip, the length of their trip, and the timing of their return.

God had collected the tears that fell during the drive from Seattle and He used them to quench my soul while the kids were gone.

He’s walked with our family through some tumultuous times.

He knows my heart. He’s safe. He’s honest. He’s full of grace. He understands the trials and tribulations of parenting adopted kids. He doesn’t hold back. He validates my feelings and me.

He told me what I already knew. He gave me the courage to face it.

Everything will be all right. Things will look different for us in the coming months.

Deep down in my soul something is brewing.