Jared here: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for writing to us after we posted about our experience in Keystone. You really brought us around. Me especially.
On the road, our entire sense of home needs to be redefined. Our house becomes the truck, a rest stop, a friend’s guest bed, couch, or floor. Our morning routine tends to involve a lot of unpacking and re-packing, rummaging through the trailer, using someone else’s bathroom (usually a business’s), etc. Our night time routine is similar, but we need to take the relative safety of our surroundings into greater account and hope things go well through the night. Occasionally, we get a hotel room, and that helps a bit. Not complaining. You get used to it all, and we’ve always been able to cobble together a version of home that’s more portable, but still home. Still some form of solid ground. But it does shake you out of yourself in a lot of ways.
With Rudy away from us, there’s an added layer of redefinition. We’re used to being parents. We’re used to the extra company and comfort of the three of us being goofballs and experiencing new places through each others’ eyes and perspectives. We miss him. We know he misses us. We also know that he’s having an amazing time at camp, and again, we understand and we get used to it. But again, we’re another step removed from our sense of home.
Then Keystone. That whole experience, on top of a few other rough patches on this tour really smacked us, and we stung. We began questioning ourselves, questioning our abilities, questioning our purpose, our career path, everything. It felt like we were wandering aimlessly, unmoored from our son, unmoored from our home, unmoored from ourselves, angry, sad, disappointed, doubting if what we were doing was as important or meaningful as we thought it was.
(Just to reiterate something that we hope we’ve made abundantly clear over the years: We LOVE what we do, and we are incredibly grateful for the opportunity to be able to do it, and for the support that we get. But anything worthwhile comes at a price, and sometimes we really feel the weight of that price.)
We landed in Fort Collins to stay with members of Jessi’s family that we hadn’t seen in probably fifteen years. We were welcomed in with open arms, and they showed us love, grace, and hospitality like only loving family can, making us feel more like we were at home. And that helped out a lot. Jessi especially.
When we posted about Keystone, we weren’t expecting much of a response. In fact, we kinda felt like it might be seen as whiney complaints amidst an otherwise amazing lifestyle. But transparency and warts-and-all honesty is something we treasure, regardless of how it gets perceived. It was cathartic for us to just get it out, and that was that. I went on to editing the next post, resizing pictures, etc., listening to music on my headphones. Then the comments started rolling in. They were all so compassionate, positive, sweet, and encouraging.
As I read them, a song came on. It was Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers”, covered beautifully by a bluegrass band called The Wailin’ Jennys. It felt like you were all singing those words directly to me. “You belong . . . ” Those lyrics seemed to be working together with your messages, paraphrasing all your comments to us, amplifying them, and reminding us of our purpose and our impact. I began to tear up. A lot. And I mean A LOT. I put the song on repeat, reading and re-reading all your kind words. I honestly cannot describe to you what it felt like to be brought back to home by you all; safe, secure, and reassured of our purpose. Belonging.
Again, thank you. I hope you all know how much you mean to us, and how much you lifted us up. I can only hope that everyone feels that level of love, purpose, and belonging in your own lives as well. “You belong somewhere you feel free.” Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. We love you.
