This post is not what you think.
We are not sailing around the world—
or at least, that’s not on my list of things to do.

About eight years ago, we were sitting on our couch. Theo was a toddler, Ellie was a baby. I’m foggy on the exact timeline, but not the conversation.

Justin looked at me and said,
“What if we sailed around the world?”

Now—most of you have seen me in person.
“Rosy” is a gentle word for my complexion.
I burn just thinking about going outside.

I sort of like the beach—slightly.
These days I wear a full-body suit, a wide-brimmed hat, and sit under an umbrella.
All to say: I should not be in the sun.

Also, I don’t know how to sail.
Wait—we don’t know how to sail.

Oh and we had toddlers – see post on Fear if you are wondering my thoughts on living on a boat with little people who sink easily. 

So there we were: my husband sharing his soul- baring his hopes and dreams of life on a boat- and I’m pretty sure he’d like me to come along.

Now here’s something I’ve learned in our marriage:
When Justin shares something like this, he has already dreamed, researched, and planned, for hours.
By the time he says it out loud, it’s not just a dream.

Here’s another honest truth:
I like saying no.
It’s not something I struggle with.  Well maybe something I’m learning to struggle with better. 

And back then, this dream—this sailing adventure—with me and our non-floating babies?
I couldn’t see that it wasn’t really about the boat.

What I didn’t realize at the time was… he was right.
Not about the boat (we’re still not quite aligned on that).
But about the life it would bring.

It took time—
it always does.
He always sees things first.
Where we could go.
Who we could become.
He sees it in us, he sees it in others.  

With time, this dream had grown with intention.

We substituted a boat for an Airstream.

And you know what?
He was right.
I’m glad he was.