Reflections from the Road: Moving Forward in the Midst of Uncertainty
There’s something special about life on the road. I don’t remember where my love for road trips began. Maybe it was the annual family vacation to Michigan. Those eight hours that seemed to drag on for days later felt like fun, quick trips. I spent time looking out the window, listening to music, reading magazines, or watching movies on my portable DVD player.
I got used to spending time in the car. We drove 90 minutes to see my grandparents each month; five hours to summer camp every year; 25 minutes to church every Sunday.
After receiving my permit, I practiced driving and parallel parking in the city with my dad. We ate potstickers in Chinatown and drove historic Route 66 while listening to the song named after the road. I also made the long drive from South Florida to Chicagoland (and back) during my college breaks.
In late 2021 and early 2022, my relationship with the road was rocky. I lived 45 minutes from my office and dance studio. The highway to get there was almost always unpleasant, full of unfinished road construction and bad or aggressive drivers. Let’s be honest—many of them were old. Or from New York. I had to make the round trip on I-95 about 3+ times a week. Not many people know how hard this season was for us.
To understand the weight of this experience is to understand my experience last year. Ryan and I had just returned from our first RV trip. But those wonderful six months quickly faded in the rearview mirror as we settled back into “regular” life in South Florida. It was a tough adjustment.
I hope this doesn’t sound whiney. I was glad to be near many of my friends again. I enjoyed having a routine and coming back to my job as an arts marketer. But something wasn’t right. After two years of remotely working during the pandemic and six months of full-time travel, I finally admitted to myself that working in an office setting, as much as I enjoyed the work itself, wasn’t for me.
During our first RV trip, I discovered the road is one of the best places to be human. We can disconnect from the screen, soak in our surroundings, ask tough questions, and contemplate the vastness of our world.
What tiny things we are.
When I reflect on those commutes, I realize that despite the insanity of Die-95, the drive enabled space for solitude and reflection. Sometimes I cried, doubting what I was doing or where I was headed. I wanted to make the move into full-time freelancing, but wasn’t sure how to transition while juggling my full-time job, company dance rehearsals, etc. How could I take the leap?
In the car, I often prayed over and reflected on my options and new ideas. I talked to trusted friends and worked toward a freelance career while wrapping up my old job.
The road is a great place for self-reflection.
I’m not talking about the “find yourself” thing.
I’m talking about thinking about the deeper parts of ourselves that we don’t understand yet. How can I love others authentically and practically? How do I grow into the best version of myself—who God made me to be? What does that look like in this season?
The road perfectly reflects the doldrums and exhilarating moments of life.
The road offers the opportunity to come as we are: content, excited, indifferent, unsure.
I was very unsure a year and a half ago.
Then, in perfect timing, a few connections and colleagues needed freelance comms support—all at once. I could now practically and confidently take the leap to work for myself.
All my life, I’ve been a planner. I knew my schedule, my deadlines, my goals. Now that I work for myself, there’s a different type of uncertainty I must face. This time, it’s more contemplative, more long-term. Will I have this much work in a year? How long should we keep living on the road? Where to next?
On the road, there are hills and there are dips. There will be smooth terrain, and there will be bumps. But ultimately, those changes are part of life. When I think of it like that, I’m reminded that life can be simple if we let it.
The road perfectly reflects the doldrums and exhilarating moments of life. The road doesn’t just mean freedom to go. It’s the freedom to be. It’s the anticipation of opening a bag of chips. The relief of stretching your legs after sitting funny for too long. The moment you realize small-town America does dominate every corner of the country. Gazing at a prismatic sunset.
Amid the uncertainty, we need more of that childlike wonder.
There were a few memorable commutes when I caught a glimpse of a beautiful cloud formation. Or felt a cool breeze through the car. Those moments provided peace and stirred up gratitude—for everything. For a secure job, despite the commute. For Florida’s bright, warm weather, even though it usually hurts my eyes. For my loved ones. For life.
Life sort of seems to demand we stay in a cycle that won’t break—until we reflect. I’m not sure what’s next, but I’m going to be intentional from here on out. I choose hope. I accept the grace I’ve been given to live this messy, short, beautiful life.
Don’t stress over the promotion. The bills. How people perceive you even if it’s not accurate. In the midst of uncertainty, take a breath that’s as ancient as the One who created this big universe, and resolve to embrace what’s ahead with childlike wonder.
That’s the beauty of moving forward. That’s the beauty of the road.