Lessons from the Road

This past weekend, I had the opportunity—not the obligation, but the gift—to take my oldest to his cheer stunt camp in Orlando. And I mean it when I say “opportunity.” There’s something subtle but powerful about shifting from have to → get to. It rewires your mindset. It softens objection and opens space for appreciation.

The alarm went off early—painfully early. But instead of hitting snooze, I felt energized. There’s something sacred about the world before it wakes up. By 5:30 a.m., we were already on the road, and as we approached the lit-up Atlanta skyline, the city sparkled with quiet possibility. Behind me, my teenage son—typically quiet and not exactly a morning person—was curled up in sleep. The stillness in the car wasn’t surprising, but it still felt sacred somehow, like the world had given us a rare, peaceful pause.

Not long after, the sun came up and lit the sky with soft, warm colors. And I found myself deep in thought about how often we miss the magic when we’re too focused on the next destination. We’re always in such a hurry. Why?

Once we arrived in Orlando, the weekend moved fast—for him, anyway. Between intense training blocks and team practices, I only caught just a few minutes here and there with him. Just minutes at a time. But that quiet space? It was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

I laid by the pool. Watched movies. Ordered room service. Read without guilt. Rested.

It wasn’t just downtime—it was healing. Space to breathe. Space to be. And, on the final day, during the parent showcase, I got to watch my son do what he loves. The confidence. The joy. The grit. It reminded me of this truth: If anything matters, everything matters. Every small act of showing up, every long drive, every early alarm—none of it is wasted. It’s all part of something bigger. Something perfectly in-progress.

The drive home was a whole different experience—traffic was heavy, the rain came down in sheets, and other drivers seemed desperate to get ahead. But I had the car on cruise control, both in speed and mindset. There was no need to rush. I had an additional two teens in the back, keeping things interesting with their random thoughts and funny takes on life. (Teen minds are a trip, aren’t they? Oh, how much they haven't learned.... yet!)

And somewhere on that long drive, I was struck by this: We forget to look around. To actually enjoy the journey. We forget to slow down and just be in the moment.

This weekend reminded me that stillness isn’t laziness. That quiet doesn’t mean empty. That healing doesn’t have to be loud. And that the road—the actual road—is often where the real living happens.

Here’s your nudge for today, from my patio to yours:

Pause when you can.

Look around.

Let stillness show you something new.

And remind yourself—you don’t have to, you get to.