2600 miles later and another week thankful for the life the good Lord chose for me. Hope spring has sprung wherever you are. I feel like I’ve lived through late winter, spring, and the thick of summer all in the past 10 days. Dutch has been loving life on the road, though the 90-degree weather has her ready for a summer cut. Cash man is loving green grass and his own pasture. I think he also loves that the heifers oogle and awe at him every time he comes out of the barn. He does look gorgeous, if I do say so myself.

The past couple of weeks, I’ve felt compelled to talk about the parallels of hunting and being led by the Lord. The preparation and “riches of the hunt” yield much reward, beyond the actual harvest. This same stirring has been in me regarding my trailer. Now that I’ve started to live it and walk it out, there’s been a lot of questions, excitement, and curiosity around my lifestyle.

One friend asked about my clothes. How do I take everything with me? If I showed you my closet from college, I think I’d need an entire horse trailer just to move it. I used to have a lot of excess; definitely too much. I worked retail and spent a lot of what I made on my closet. What started to change all of this was moving and moving frequently. From 2015-2020 I had moved 8 times. When I lived in Texas for about 4 months, I bought some of the most beautiful furniture for my apartment. But it was crazy heavy. It only took moving it twice, with movers, to realize this drifter didn’t need anything of this scale. To consignment it went, and I was glad to move it on.

This sparked a new idea, especially when I started moving without actual movers: anything I had not used in the place I lived didn’t get moved on to the next one. Now, I know there’s some thought of, “But what if I need this?” God supplies my every need. And guess what? There’s been nothing I’ve given away that I regretted.

The clothing was more of a process, as I’ve always loved having a person style. I started downsizing tremendously when I lived in Colorado, since that was the last move I had movers. Right before I moved to Wyoming, I was excited to have some fresh space, and that included in my closet. From then on, I embraced selling online or at consignment stores. If friends complimented me on something that I wore, when I saw them next, I’d give them whatever the item was. I lost my attachment to the things.

The boldest thing I did was this spring, weeks before I’d move into my trailer, I listed almost every piece of clothing I owned online. Whatever sold, I got rid of, and whatever didn’t, I got to move in. It was fun and exciting. Plus I knew if everything sold, I’d have a fun time reinvesting in some pieces. And guess what:  everything fits, for every season, with room. Even since moving in, I’ve gotten rid of more. I’m not attached to the things. Sure, some are sentimental, and others I have a deep admiration for the style and look they bring. But it’s not about the things anymore. It makes it easy having less and being truly grateful for that.

The years I spent hunting really did help prepare me for the hunt for my trailer. When God dropped this idea in my spirit, much like when I got the invite to hunt, I started gathering information like a sponge. I learned quickly that cowboys and cowgirls on the rodeo road with several people along would have different necessities than myself. I also learned about the different brands of horse trailers, which ones were better new versus used, and which companies were the best to deal with.

It was funny to me to learn the things that people would tell me that “I’ve just gotta have.” It really tested my own perspective from the Lord. I spent my first winter in Arizona in 2023, hunting and putting together builds for my trailer. After I had pursued and pursued layouts and trailers with a couple of companies, there was something unsettling about it. I felt that it was more about the glamour and the “outdoing” and “showing off” than it was about the calling. I ended up turning down offers for builds I had with two companies, and I thought that this goal and dream from God was maybe not meant for me.

I still needed my own trailer, as the bumper-pull I was borrowing needed to go back. Of the brands I was interested in, Hart was a little more elusive. The used trailers were listed and gone so fast, you hardly had time to look. While searching for gooseneck Hart trailers, a dealer in Nebraska came up about 3 hours away from where my parents live. After the 1800 miles home from Arizona, Sarah got in the truck with me, and we drove to meet Angie.

Angie had a quiet confidence about her, but was warm right away. This was definitely not the same style of sales rep I was used to dealing with in my trailer hunt. She was honest, and just really wanted to know my needs above all else. I truly had felt in my spirit that I heard God wrong, that I was asking for too much, and the living quarters life wasn’t for me. I decided to pursue a custom build 3-horse gooseneck with extended front tack area, enough to give me a little work space and storage. But not suitable for full time living.

This decision meant I would be going back to Arizona that fall with a trailer, but no place to live. I called my Grandma and asked her if I could take her motorhome to Arizona. It had been in storage, with the occasional trip to the tractor pull during the summer, but that was about it. Funny enough, one of the only places she and my grandpa had driven it to was Wickenburg, AZ, long before I was team roping. I could hear her smile over the phone, as she said, “Take it to Arizona? Well sure, I think it still remembers the way.” I think God smiled at that one too.

I remember receiving the final documents from Angie regarding my trailer build. I prayed over it, prayed with it, and then signed it. As I sent the confirmation for order, I questioned:  Did I forget anything? Is this right? And it was. For right now.

I picked up my first build in November. Grandma came with me and we oo’d and awed over the color and functionality of it. My first horse trailer. What a blessing. I was so excited for the next adventure, which involved hauling my horse to Arizona, along with the motorhome. I have no idea how my parents agreed to this wild idea, but they did. And I was eager to get there.

Thanksgiving was here, and I was planning to leave right after the holiday, weather permitting. My grandpa’s health was dwindling, strong one day, and not so great the next. Monday after Thanksgiving, I prayed with him and over him for the last time. God answered my prayers and healed him, giving Bob his ticket to the streets of gold. He was the first really close relative I had to say goodbye to, and I didn’t know how I would handle it. I learned family members all cope differently, along with handling funeral planning.

I have fought the good and worthy and noble fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith [firmly guarding the gospel against error] 2 Timothy 4:7

While we were planning Bob’s last county fair (he loved the fair so much), the bible verse we all thought suited him well was one of great faith. Through the time he was diagnosed, I didn’t realize until the end, how great his faith was that he wasn’t going to die, but that he was going to live. During the visitation, so many people from his past days in leadership commented about how much trust he put in them. Even one of his custodians was there and talked about the great responsibility Bob gave him before he was ready. My faith was stirring. Great faith was stirring.

We got through all of the celebration of life, and started somewhat back into normalcy. Dad and I tended to deal with the grief by keeping busy, fixing and tinkering with things. We started YouTube searching how to finish the interior of my horse trailer, and quickly realized this was not in either of our skillsets. In that time, PRCA barrel racer, Emily Beisel had gotten her new horse trailer. I couldn’t believe it. The layout was exactly what I had been looking for. When I went to Signature Quarter’s website, Angie’s business was the first partner listed. I knew this was no coincidence, and I had a call to make.

“I’m not sure if this ever happens, but every time I open the door to my trailer, I think it needs to be a living quarters. I love it, but I need something I can live out of.” I peaceably talked to Angie about it, and she giggled, “You know I wondered if that was the direction you were going to go.” I told her I wasn’t ready at the time to make that commitment but now I was more sure than ever. And the process started. In separate conversations, Angie had told me she “messed up” in not getting me the LQ the first time. But it happened exactly how it should. As my mom would say, “We connect the dots in retrospect.” God needed me to meet His calling with great faith, a faith that needed building.

If I had my living quarters, I don’t know if I would have stayed and been there when my family needed me. And I will never ever regret moving back to Nebraska for the last year of my grandpa’s life. 2023 was my first year of business with my new employer, and the entire year grew my faith. Faith is a muscle. When life tears us, the faith muscle rebuilds us. It had nothing to do with anyone else being ready, but God getting my heart and faith ready for what He was calling me to do.

Patience and persistence go hand in hand when going after what God has called you to do. There’s a stair step of faith process we must walk up before we walk into the big thing. Just like the hunt, there’s riches in every step of the way. I’m reminded again of David. Before he slayed the giant, he had faith building years tending over the sheep, killing mountain lions and bears, so when he knew he needed to slay the giant, he could respond in faith.

The hunt progresses your faith and deepens your roots. When the harvest comes, it’s a celebration of everything you know God has called you to do. So wherever you are in the hunt for your calling, know each step has a purpose for the plan. The only way you can be late is if you don’t take the step, even if it isn’t a leap frog to the finish line. And when God is leading you, I am confident, you’ll know the way.