I Am Nomadic

In the early hours of a stormy July morning in 2015, lightning struck my townhome and ignited the gas meter beneath my deck. Within seconds the deck caught fire and less than ten minutes later a neighbor was banging on my front door yelling at the top of his lungs for me to get out. I had no time to grab anything except my phone and my purse. As soon I walked out the front door, I turned around realizing I forgot my dog. That sweet, unconditionally loving boy was just standing there waiting for me. We stood with my neighbors waiting for the fire department and watched in disbelief as the flames spread.

Having to leave your house in a state of panic with no opportunity to go back inside shoots a perspective about what really matters straight into your heart. Honestly, my thoughts didn’t go to what things were inside I was about to lose. All I was thinking about is how grateful I was that my neighbors and I were all safe.

The fire was eventually contained, however, the damage was devastating enough for my house to be declared a total loss. I had lived there thirteen years, but had wanted to move for the last nine. The housing market and fear kept me there. Fear of letting go of the last place Ben lived. I really wanted to move, but felt stuck and hadn’t been able to muster up the courage to do it.

That lightning strike was a blessing in disguise, a huge blessing. Several friends asked me if I had been praying for a sign because they were pretty sure the lightning was it! I agreed. I said God must have tried to get my attention other ways, like quiet whispers or gentle nudges that I (obviously) ignored. The lightning strike was THE LOUDEST noise I’ve heard in my life. No way I could ignore that! Fine! I’m leaving, NOW!

My house was immediately uninhabitable. I stayed with a friend for three weeks until I found a rental property nearby. I was in the rental for five months and then with my dad for three weeks. Six months and three days after my fire I left Minnesota and moved to Florida. My house had been rebuilt and sold one month after I left. While in Florida, I moved four times over a two-year time period. I had a house sitting job for the same people for both summers, so it wasn’t a new place, but I still had to pack, move and unpack. Last fall, I was in a mandatory evacuation zone for hurricane Irma, so I was forced to leave. I had just come back from a week in Georgia and North Carolina to watch the eclipse and then evacuated from Tampa all the way to Arkansas. I met up with a friend and we camped in Oklahoma and Arkansas for five days exploring places I had never been. I fell in love with the whole area and stayed in Arkansas for several more days. Being in the woods and mountains of NC, AR and OK, made me realize how much I missed the seasons from my MN roots. Going back to Florida was disappointing. I felt called to move again, somewhere with terrain, woods and places for me and my dog to hike and explore. I didn’t know exactly where this would be, but knew I would be called or lead to this place sooner or later.

As it turned out, I had nowhere to live for the month of November (2017). I had spent many past Thanksgivings with my cousin in Chicago so I called and asked if I could stay with her for a few weeks. I covered the first two weeks by staying with a friend on her horse farm in Florida. It was beautiful, serene and peaceful, much more like what I had been missing.

By mid November I was in Chicago and then on to Gary, Indiana to my cousin’s second home on Lake Michigan. The shoreline is part of the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. Once again, I fell in love with the area and had a feeling I would be back before too long. The second week of December, a friend flew down from MN and we drove from Chicago to Washington DC for Wreaths Across America at Arlington National Cemetery. We spent one night in Ohio with the mother of a Ranger who had served in the same Battalion as my son. When I left our nation’s capital, I was working my way back to Florida. I stayed with a friend, another Ranger, in NC for one night and then picked up another friend in SC where I spent Christmas with her family.

By the time I got back to FL, I had been on the road for six weeks. Three days later, I flew home to MN for an unexpected funeral and three days after that I was back in Chicago for a special event. Once I was back in FL, I had an epiphany. It was time to go. Indiana and Lake Michigan were calling me. My cousin helped me find a place to rent just a few blocks from her and only two blocks from a path leading to the beautiful salt and shark free shores of the lake.

I found a Ranger in Tampa willing to make the drive with me. I packed my belongings into a small Uhaul and hit the road again. We stretched the trip into three days, spending one night at the home of another Ranger in Ohio.

Before my fire I had lived in my homes for years at a time. I now find myself getting antsy after a few months. That lightning strike lit a nomadic fire in me. In less than three years I have lived in three different states, moved multiple times and driven through fifteen states.

So, why do I refer to my fire as a blessing? It’s the reason the tethers holding me back were released. It’s the reason I have embraced being nomadic. When I think of tethers, the first thing that comes to mind is a hot air balloon. Tethers, those thick, heavy ropes that keep the balloon from taking flight. Tethers, the false reasons I used as excuses to keep me from exploring our beautiful country and living other places. My fire also forced me to lighten my load and have little in the way of personal belongings, which makes moving a lot less daunting. I am blessed to have a Ranger family (that in itself will get it’s own blog in future writings) all over the country that I can call on and count on to take me in or come along with me while I fall in love with my nomadic self and our beautiful America.

A nomad is defined as a member of a people having no permanent abode, and who travel from place to place to find fresh pasture (for their livestock), or a person who does not stay long in the same place; a wanderer.

That lightning strike motivated me to wander and continuously pursue fresh pasture.
I have never felt more free. Where to next? Who’s coming with me?