If you can’t choose what, choose how.

Sometimes you can’t choose WHAT you do.

Sometimes you can only choose HOW you do something, but that choice can make all the difference.

In January 2016, I was in between a bittersweet year (the end of my book series in Portland, OR) and a truly rugged year (family crisis in Charlotte, NC). 

I knew that I needed to drive across the country and that chaos was waiting for me at my destination. These were non-negotiable commitments.

So, I decided if I had to take this trip, I would make sure I had enjoyable pockets of exploration along the way. I promised myself I would plan out my route and stop at places I’d always wanted to see.

Still, I nearly skipped Arches National Park. When I arrived, it was just an hour or so before closing, not truly long enough for a hike. But I decided that I’d come all that way, so I had better go ahead and buy a ticket.

Because it was late on a winter day, with the light just right, the pictures I took on that trip were AMAZING. 

I couldn’t stop looking at them, even in the tough months to come. These photos nourished me and continue to nourish me, both with their beauty and with the memory of that stop—when I made time for joy inside a long and necessary task.

This is a dramatic example. Obviously, road trips are inaccessible to many of us right now for a variety of reasons. I use it as an example, because it IS dramatic, helping me to express my point.

You can apply this same idea in little ways: if you have to clean your room, listen to your favorite music. If you have to do homework, bring it outside. If you need to meet a deadline, take time to brew a delicious tea. 

That change may seem too little to matter. But it may also provide exactly the nourishment you need to get through whatever you’re moving through.