The last couple of weeks have been a lot.

In a way that feels both heavy and deeply affirming.

First, a small miracle worth celebrating: a friend’s 14-year-old son was able to diagnose and fix our KIA Sorento when multiple shops wouldn’t even consider touching it because… KIA. Watching curiosity, confidence, and problem-solving win where systems and policies wouldn’t was humbling and honestly hopeful. Sometimes the help you need doesn’t come from where you expect.

Downsizing, though—whew. That part has been hard. Anxiety and overwhelm creep in fast when you’re deciding what parts of your life fit into the next chapter and what has to be released. I’m learning that struggle doesn’t mean “wrong,” it just means human.

We’re also entering our final week of full-time employment, and that reality is incredibly bittersweet. I’ve loved my job, the people I work with, and the healthcare space I’ve been honored to market in. That hospital trusted me, shaped me, and gave me purpose for a season—and I’ll always be grateful for that chapter, and even cherish the human connections made.

On the practical side, momentum is real. We’ve received our Starlink and our 23’ bell tent, and our compost toilet arrives this week. Some things had to be ordered early simply because very soon… we won’t have a traditional address to ship to. It’s surreal watching the vision turn into physical objects.

What’s been especially wild is hearing people’s reactions to all of this.

Some are overwhelmingly supportive, excited, and genuinely curious to follow along. Others zoom straight to the worst-case scenarios—the what-ifs, the doubts, the warnings—almost as if discouragement is a reflex. I’ve realized that someone choosing a path outside the familiar “system” can make people deeply uncomfortable. Not because it’s wrong… but because it challenges the boundaries of their own box.

Yes, there are risks.
Yes, this could fail spectacularly.
Yes, I am concerned about our future.

And no—I’m not changing my mind. I’m not meticulously optimizing every object, every shelf, every hypothetical $20 item that might sell if I spent my time negotiating with strangers online. This season requires movement, not perfection.

What keeps echoing for me is this:
I’ve spent a lifetime being told to “follow your dreams” and “let God guide you.” But the moment I actually walk a path that feels like a higher calling, suddenly I’m doing it “wrong.” Suddenly I’m expected to conform to closed-minded interpretations, fear-based caution, and submissive ideologies that contradict the very teachings they claim to uphold.

There is so much more to life.

And maybe—according to scriptures edited, filtered, and politicized over centuries—heaven isn’t a destination at all. Maybe it’s something we cultivate here. A journey we choose to participate in now. Maybe there’s an afterlife… but first, we are meant to live this one fully, presently, courageously.

Thank you for being here. Truly.
Your presence matters more than you probably realize.

—Brady