Brake Lights & Bug Bites

Life gave me some lemons
But my Jesus, He be makin’ lemonade, lemonade
My Jesus making lemonade, lemonade
I watch my worries wash away, lemonade
It’s gonna be okay
Life gave me some lemons
But my Jesus, He be makin’ lemonade

Forest Frank’s music seems to be the soundtrack of our days, whether we’re driving down the road or just hanging around the house. One of his songs has been echoing in my heart lately: even when life serves up lemons, Jesus is faithful to make sweet lemonade.

What we thought would be a quick stop in the repair shop, just a day or two, has turned into weeks. As the dealer started into the work, he realized the repairs were far more complicated than he had first imagined. Suddenly, the path ahead stretched longer, slower, and less certain than I ever planned for.

And oh, how I love a good plan. Truly, one of my favorite parts of this journey is planning–studying maps, researching campgrounds, and plotting out our routes. For nearly a year, we had dreamed of our Pacific Northwest adventure: up to Glacier, across the Cascades, down into Olympic, and onward. The campgrounds were booked, the details settled, the path before us beautifully clear.

But journeys have a way of bending when you least expect it. Ours certainly did. And in the bending, I realized how tightly I was clinging to my plans. They weren’t just schedules and routes; they were my sense of security, my pride, and my anchor. And when those plans unraveled, so did a bit of me.

If I’m honest, after that first week of delays, I was more than a little grumpy. In the grand scope of life, this is hardly a tragedy—but the absence of home, of familiar routines, of our own space, began to wear on me. Airbnbs and hotels carry their own charm, but after weeks on end, they begin to lose their sparkle.

Yet even in the hard, God’s gentle hand has been at work. The lemons have been real, frustrations, delays, the ache of waiting, but I can taste the lemonade too. Somewhere in the pause, He slowed me down enough to see what I would not have noticed otherwise. I thought we had already stripped away so much by setting out on this journey, but it turns out my heart needed an even deeper stripping—of distractions, of control, of my grip on the “perfect” plan.

I am learning, slowly but surely, that letting go is often wiser than holding on too tightly. That open hands receive more than clenched fists ever can. That even when my carefully laid plans crumble, God is still weaving something beautiful.

And amidst these unexpected turns, there have been gifts. Olympic, especially, has been a blessing. We searched and searched for a house on the Peninsula, longing for one by the water, but nothing fit. And then we found an incredible house. It was right on the beach, just a few minutes from the Olympic National Park Visitor Center. Maybe because it was brand-new to Airbnb, the price was exactly what we were looking for. I worried there must be something wrong with the place that we couldn’t see in the pictures to explain the reasonable price. But we booked it anyway and headed west.

Our journey began with a car ferry from Seattle. What a fun experience! We all giggled with joy as we drove the van onto the ferry and enjoyed the ride across the Sound. A two-hour drive later, we pulled into the driveway of our home for the next two weeks. And it was perfect. The views were breathtaking, the house was the perfect size for our family, and the beach was amazing—a football field for the older three and a monster truck racetrack for Tate. The ship traffic was Charlie’s dream. The seals made us laugh. The sunsets were stunning. The surfers captivated us for hours. It was both refreshing and relaxing. We slowed down. We played hard, but we also snuggled up, read, and sat watching sunsets and crashing waves. We were able to explore Olympic National Park at our own pace. It was exactly where our family needed to be.

Encompassing nearly a million acres, Olympic protects a vast wilderness and three distinct ecosystems: glacier-capped mountains, temperate rainforests, and more than 70 miles of rugged coastline. Originally established as a national monument to protect the dwindling Roosevelt elk population, it was later designated a national park in 1938.

We started with the western portion of the park, blanketed by temperate rainforests that receive more than 12 feet of rain each year. Towering pine trees draped with moss created an enchanting landscape. We enjoyed a leisurely hike through the Hoh Rain Forest, soaking in its peaceful atmosphere. What surprised us most was that immediately northwest of the Hoh lies a rain shadow area that averages only 17 inches of rain annually!

Next, we explored the center of the park, dominated by the Olympic Mountains, whose ridgelines are topped with massive glaciers. Have I mentioned that I find glaciers fascinating?!?! 😉 A gorgeous drive up to Hurricane Ridge led us to one of our most memorable hikes. The Hurricane Ridge Trail was one of the more challenging hikes we’ve completed. Although only 3.4 miles round trip (yes, I double-checked the mileage many times before we set out!), the elevation gain was around 900 feet. Gummy bear stops at each turnout encouraged us onward until we reached an unbelievable panoramic view of the Olympic Range, Puget Sound, and Vancouver Island. As we descended, the sun was beginning to set and the clouds rolled in—a magical end to the day.

Finally, we explored the rugged coastline. No two miles of Olympic’s shore are alike, ranging from sandy stretches to rocky beaches and cliffs plunging into the sea. Our first stop was Ruby Beach, where we arrived just after low tide and played in the surf as the waves returned. Next, we headed north to Second Beach, a sandy shore famous for its towering sea stacks. The one-mile hike through the forest before descending to the beach made the view even more rewarding. Our final coastal adventure was Cape Flattery, the northwesternmost point in the contiguous United States, where dramatic cliffs overlooked the crashing Pacific.

Of course, no blog post would be complete without mentioning our banana slug hunt! Olympic is home to countless animals, including thousands of invertebrates, but the banana slug is perhaps the most famous. These bright yellow slugs can grow up to 10 inches long, making them the largest North American land mollusk. We first read about them at the visitor center and soon encountered one in the Hoh Rain Forest. Tate instantly fell in love and made it his mission to spot as many as possible. To our surprise, Grant turned out to have a superhuman gift for finding them, spotting slug after slug along our hikes. It became a family competition—racing to be the first to find one. Grant still holds the record for most found, but Tate wins for the most excitement every single time.

As our time in Olympic came to an end, we realized these two weeks were far more than a detour while waiting for our rig—they were a true gift. The crashing waves, moss-draped trees, and glacier-topped peaks reminded us to slow down and savor the beauty around us. Olympic wasn’t just a stop on our journey; it became a place of rest, laughter, and wonder—a place our family will remember long after we’ve packed up and moved on.

Unfortunately, our rig is still not finished. 😞 We don’t know how much longer the repairs will take, but for now, we’re choosing to keep moving forward, one day at a time, as we make our way further south into Oregon.

The beauty is that without a firm plan, we’re learning to hold our days more loosely—open to whatever adventures God places in our path. Without my carefully penciled routes and reservations, I am learning to travel lighter, to hold my days loosely, to let go of my grip on “perfect” and receive the gifts in the unexpected. And in that openness, we’ve found joy in places we never expected, glimpses of His presence in detours we never would have chosen. Yes, the lemons have been plenty. But the lemonade? It has been even sweeter.