
Somewhere between Houston and Tacoma, I started to hear my own voice again. Not the anxious chatter or the to-do list version of me. But the quiet, clear one underneath … steady and whole. I boarded that Amtrak train with my suitcase, snacks, journal, and a weariness I could not name. I returned with stories, softness, and something like strength.
It was not glamorous. Train travel never really is. There were long stretches of nothing but tracks and dirt. Delays. Sleepless nights. Shared space with strangers. But in that in-between world where the internet is spotty and your only job is to look out the window, something sacred happened.
I learned that solitude is not the same as loneliness. I learned to find comfort in my own company. I rediscovered the joy of reading a whole book in one sitting. The pleasure of eating the same snack every day. The small luxury of watching the world go by, with no one asking anything of me.
And somewhere around the second leg of the journey, it hit me: to really heal, I needed to gather up all that is good from every season of my life … not just the highlight reel. The slow chapters, the hard moments, the things I thought I failed at. I get to carry the lessons, the beauty, and the pieces of myself that still sparkle.
Life is too short for high anxiety. I want to live with open hands and open heart. I want to breathe deeper. Laugh easier. And yes, finish the projects I still love, like The Jeanie Jo & Joanna Project. I started that idea a while ago, and it still stirs something in me. That means something.

So today I am asking:
What have you learned about yourself when the noise quiets down? What part of your story do you want to carry forward? What still excites you enough to finish what you started?
Sometimes it takes 4,000 miles of train track to see that your life is already full of meaning. You just needed space to remember it.
Gracefully yours,

Help keep the words flowing and the stories brewing.
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Reference
Niequist, S. (2024). Celebrate Every Day. Zondervan.

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