Decisions, decisions...

We’ve been in Sweden for a week now—a somewhat unexpected turn, like many in our journey. A Workaway host reached out to us, and after some back-and-forth, we decided to give it a go. It’s always a bit of a gamble saying “yes” to a new place, a new routine, and a new set of people. But sometimes, saying yes is just what we need. We moved on from our spot in Denmark and changed plans of going to a different spot in Sweden, all just a tad last minute, looking for change.

Travel day over land and long bridges to Sweden, arrived and the kids were in love with the trampoline and tire swings...

The landscape here is soothing—forests that stretch in all directions and countless lakes that almost seem to multiply overnight. As nature lovers, it feels like the earth is tucking us into soft green corners and whispering, “breathe.” We’ve swum nearly every day.

Some days it’s a spontaneous dash into the water. Other days, it takes a bit of family negotiation. Two kids yell, “Yes! Let’s go!” and another shrugs, “Again?” So we talk it out. Sometimes someone joins, sometimes someone stays home. We’re trying not to force too much. Letting the day unfold. Letting people be where they are. And maybe trying out a bike trip instead of always doing the lake.

Lake, lake and more lake/swimming/boating!

One day this past week stood out more than the rest—our daughter Saranda’s birthday.

Eleven years ago, she was born still. A perfect 38-week baby who never took a breath. And ever since, this time of year has been emotionally rough terrain. For a long time, I didn’t know what to do with that day. It’s not really something you “celebrate”—and yet it doesn’t feel right to just ignore it and act like it never happened either. Most years I’ve been edgy for days leading up to it, bracing myself. That day would often feel like a storm in my chest—tight, unpredictable, and painful. I'd snap, start crying or not be able to make simple decisions without becoming overloaded.

But this year was… different.

I still didn’t know what to do. I just made a decision. I made a cake—the one I’ve fallen in love with lately—and we took the boats out. The lake was calm at first, and then, as if to mark the memory with a bit of drama, a storm rolled in as we were paddling back. Wind whipping across the water. A little adventure. A bit of awe.

Spontaneously, an 11-year-old boy from the host family joined us that day. I couldn’t help but notice the symbolism. Of course I thought, we’d have four kids now. Two boys. Two girls. If… But we didn’t go too deep into the what-ifs. We just lived the day.

And the surprise? I wasn’t a mess. I didn’t feel like I was barely holding myself together. I didn’t break down. Yeah, some tears came up a couple times. But I wasn’t on edge for days beforehand. Was it just time passing? Maybe. But I have this gut feeling it’s something more. I think it’s resilience. The kind that builds slowly, one breath, one moment, one choice at a time. The kind I’ve been cultivating intentionally for years.

Jumping from the bridge (our son- so brave!) and beach afternoons...

Living on the road, it can feel like we make 100 decisions a day. Statistically some say adults make 20,000-35,000 decisions a day! What to eat. Where to park. Who wants to go swimming (again)? What to do if one kid’s having a hard day. Do we go left or right on the trail? Do we stay another week or move on?

Some decisions are tiny and fleeting. Others ripple out in ways we can’t predict. But here’s something I’ve learned (and something we try to teach our kids too): just decide.

Make a choice. Not every decision has to be perfect. Not every option has to be weighed for hours. Sometimes, just choosing takes less energy than hovering in indecision.

Think about how we often pre-decide the things that keep our lives moving: Busy Fridays? It’s pizza night. Travel day? Tablets are allowed in the car all day. No overthinking. No debate. No trying to please everyone. It’s just what we do. That’s resilience too—making life easier through pre-made decisions.

LOTS of flexibility and getting back up again needed with the work here, more on that next time- setting up a swing set and heading to the recycling spot.

And when we do get it wrong? When the hike is too long, or the dinner isn’t liked, or the camping spot not very nice—we learn. That feedback loop is life. Our kids are learning that too: that mistakes teach them far more than lectures do. We give them chances to decide things for themselves, even if it means they fall on their face now and then. They’ll get up. They’ll adjust. And next time, they’ll know more. That’s what resilience looks like in real-time: not perfection, but flexibility.

I love the German word for resilience: Wiederstandsfähigkeit. Typical, overly long word, first of all. Secondly it translates as "resistance skill". But for some reason the resistance part is translated in my brain as "to stand up again" (wieder-stand= again stand)... therefore I see it as getting back up again after being knocked down, which really is a part of resilience, right?

The Takeaway?

Traveling full-time isn’t easy. Grief isn’t easy. Parenting isn’t easy. But they all share one thing: we move through them one decision at a time.

Sometimes the best thing we can do is just choose. To go for the swim. To bake the cake. To paddle into the storm. To live the day, with the joy and ache that might come. To decide something, even if it turns out to be the wrong thing. We can always try again. And maybe—just maybe—we’ll learn something important along the way.

And if we’re lucky, we’ll have a quiet Swedish lake, a delicious

slice of cake, and the wind in our hair to remind us how beautiful life can still be.