Greetings!

When Lindsay and I were struggling with which decision to make at the beginning of June, it occurred to us that the Black Hills of South Dakota are an incredibly special place. Historically, they were (are) considered sacred by Native American tribes and we’ve learned there is still an undercurrent of activity to try and restore them as such.

If you spend any time out here, you will quickly understand why they are so special. Sure, they lack the majesty of 14,000-foot peaks of the Colorado Rockies. And they do not host ancient glaciers year-round in their towering crevices like the Grand Tetons or those found throughout the northern Rockies.

But the hills, as they are called, offer spectacular views most enjoyed by hiking or, more popularly, by driving any of the many roads that cross through this corner of South Dakota like a venous system consisting of both paved and hard-packed dirt roads.

Lindsay and I love driving these roads, whether on errands to and from Rapid City (as shared in my last dispatch), on days off of work, or in the in-between times of early morning or late evening, when wildlife sightings are most common and native species of fish are most likely to bite.

We drive these roads because they bring us a sense of freedom, an escape from whatever we feel bound to at the moment. Whether it’s a stressful situation at work, big decisions on the horizon or dealing with loss as Lindsay experienced our first summer when her father passed away unexpectedly, these hills are sacred to us and to most people who take the time to visit and to get lost on a backroad here or there or everywhere.

As driving is naturally part of our lifestyle—dare I call it part of our profession—we never mind the hours we spend meandering around the Black Hills. In fact, the other morning, we hiked our favorite trail to the top of Little Devil’s Tower. The morning felt so spectacular, and the hike so inspiring—we extended our 20-minute drive home into two more hours of driving the roads we have come to know by heart.

This is why I jokingly refer to our decision to return to South Dakota this summer as a “2,000-mile commute to work.” With work propositions dried up in Jacksonville in June and jobs waiting for us here in Custer State Park, it made only a little sense to leave Florida late in the tourist season to make whatever hay was left to make before the leaves started turning and the snow started falling.

It didn’t entirely make sense. And if you’ve been following along on our journey, you know that we had our doubts about whether we made the right decision. From near breakdowns to catastrophic hail storms, reaching the Black Hills this year offered unparalleled resistance to any previous years we lived and worked here.

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But, technically, we were driving 2,000 miles for a job - qualifying this as the longest commute to work I’ve ever made!

Now, with the season snapping to close like a rubber band as quickly as it expanded before us, we have been looking ahead at the route we wanted to take to Baja, Mexico, the once certainty that has been divinely established in our lives in recent years (and one we have incredible news to share with you one day, shortly!).

But life on the road for the past 6+ years has taught us one thing about our plans: we must adhere to the advice that James, the half-brother of Jesus, gives in his book in Chapter 4, verses 13-15.

All plans now begin and end with the phrase “God-willing.” We usually know where we would like to go. And we have an idea of how we’d like to get there. In this case, a lovely path for us leads through Thermopolis, Wyoming, and meanders back into Colorado, weaving back through Utah and Arizona before crossing into California briefly on our way into Baja.

We have friends that we’ve made in many places along this route—a theme of our route planning is actually to connect with these friends as we pass through in any general direction—and some of our favorite activities and destinations are clearly marked in our hearts and minds as pins on the map of this itinerary.

Yet even in our efforts to defer to God’s plans in our humble planning, we seem to fall short.

This season is no exception.

This year, it seems, we must complete our long commute to work by returning to Florida in early October to tend to a complex series of decisions and subsequent actions resulting from 30 minutes of hail in Gothenburg, Nebraska, on June 29th.

Yes, that hail storm has complicated our lives in so many ways - the least of which requires that if we want to keep our beloved Honda CRV towed vehicle (which we do… it runs great!) we must accept that it is a total loss and then return to Florida within 72 hours to have it inspected by a DMV to ensure that it is safe to drive.

Of course, it is safe! Only 200 or so small dents in the metal surrounding the important parts of the vehicle impact only its cosmetic and aesthetic appeal. Any DMV in South Dakota could vouch for that, put the seal of the Mount Rushmore State on the paper, and send it to the Great State of Florida for approval.

In a day when Zoom meetings are standard practice in the business world and many workers have yet to return to their cubicles with remote work opportunities, the state of Florida is calling us home once again out of what seems to be an absurd necessity.

So we must return, not unwillingly, as we always love spending time with our family and friends there, in what will be a 4,000-mile commute to and from work.

Of course, thanks to Brother James, these plans may also become subject to change even on the short notice of a few weeks, which will pass so quickly regardless of what decisions we make.

But the fact remains, our journey south and west will first require that we blaze south and east, stopping home for a few weeks before making the long, 2,500-mile trek toward California to return to a place that now necessitates our presence.

Yes, I am already considering Baja our next long commute to work, trumping this latest journey back to the Black Hills!

To some, such driving would be bothersome and extreme. But to us, it is something we look forward to (although 2,000 miles in 72 hours is a bit more than we prefer!).

However, life seems to be a series of pins on a map with legs of wandering in between. Whatever stress a decision like this might invoke, the release comes in pursuing the path before us.

We are called to wander. Like a stream or creek that encounters a boulder, it must learn to go around any obstacle to continue its path toward its destiny.

We, too, are on such a journey in life. We realize we’ll reach a divine ocean one day, as all rivers do. But in the meantime, our path meanders back through familiar territory, doubling back where we thought we would press forward, leading us to moments of joy when we see family and friends again.

One thing in life that I hold dear is the certainty of uncertainty. As much as I am a man of patterns and predictability, it is the uncertainty that the road offers to which I am most addicted.

Who will we meet on this return to Florida? What lessons will we learn, and what experiences will we then have to share with someone later whose soul and spirit may be refreshed by it?

If you haven’t learned from us yet, we see this call to wander as our divine purpose, which first draws us closer to our Creator, the Lover of our souls, and, as a result, allows us to share the Love we find with others.

Whether you feel our experience enriches your life is up to you. But we pray that our lives and our continual journey toward that Divine Ocean bring you hope, inspiration and maybe a few tidbits here and there that help you realize how important it is that you discover inside of you the well of Abundant Life that leads you toward the same end as us.

We are grateful that you’ve chosen to join and to remain a part of our wander. Please consider sharing our story with others as we double down on the idea that through our journey, we will help bring people to life who are just waiting to be awakened to their purpose and calling.

Whether that is on the road or in the same neighborhood they’ve always lived in, we believe that every person is designed to create something beautiful with their life, and we are humbled to be a small part of what that beauty will be.

With love and unending gratitude,

Chris & Lindsay + Everest + Huckleberry!

PS - We are asking now that you forward this or any of our recent updates to anyone you know who might benefit from getting to know us and our call to wander. We are humbled that you have taken the time to remain a part of our journey, and we appreciate you helping us reach the kind of people we hope to inspire, encourage, and inform on how to live a life less ordinary in pursuit of an Abundant life.

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