The Caboose

One of the highlights of moving to Alaska in the summertime is that our little family gets to live outside. I honestly think we all prefer to be outdoors.

(And I know you've heard me complain a lot about how long it took us to get our household items from Texas, so maybe this seems like conflicting information. I don't know what to tell you. I guess I'm a girl who would rather be outside, and then if she's inside she wants all of her stuff.)

But liking outside isn't necessarily a new thing for us. We've always enjoyed being outside together. Camping, hiking, and bike riding are some of our best and favorite things. Honestly, since my kids could walk we've been taking them on hikes.

I remember my youngest being only two trekking up the rocky slopes of the Franklin Mountains.

And I remember my young daughter walking her dog through dirt paths in the Ozarks.

I remember them discovering the utility of a walking stick in the Texas Hill Country---

---and that Daddy's shoulders are better than your own feet on the granite trails of Enchanted Rock.

I remember them eagerly walking through the marshy Canadian wilderness towards the stinky smell of sulfur.

And just last week, they were curiously following the path of a glacial river in Alaska.

Now I'm sure at this point you've picked up on a theme.
You've likely noticed that ALL of my pictures of my kids in motion are from behind. There's a reason for that---and no, it's not because I'm slow. ;)

A long time ago when we started our family hikes, we came up with a walking order: Dad, sister, brother, and mom. Dad would be in front to lead the way, set the pace, and make sure everything was safe moving forward. Brother and sister followed closely behind Dad. And Mom brought in the rear with the purpose of making sure that no man wandered off the trail or was left behind. My children have long since lovingly called me "the caboose."

Now I don't mind being "the caboose" on our family hikes. It feels purposeful and essential.
But sometimes, I can feel like the caboose in our "everyday walk"--and that's always not so great.

The caboose is a position of humility. Always letting everyone else go in front. Always placing yourself at the tail end. Always watching everyone else push out in front while you trail behind.
I've found that when I've got a heavier load, it's always easiest to put my own stuff at the back.
Things that matter {kids' school, kids' activities, husband's work schedule, house chores, family errands} get put at the front of the line, while the "things that don't matter" {writing, crafting, reading, getting my hair cut, painting my nails, scheduling appointments for myself, going out to lunch with a friend, going back to school, starting a career, etc.} get pushed to the back burner.

And for a while, I'm okay with that.
After all, that's what a caboose is for. It's job is to provide a place for the crew to rest so they can operate full steam ahead. It serves as a lookout to make sure that everything stays on track, nothing breaks, and that everything is making it to the destination safely. And if things do happen to get really out of control, the caboose can help apply the brakes.


But that caboose is good for one more thing.
Sometimes it switches directions and takes the lead.
On a train, couplings are loosed and the caboose will pull one or two cars along with it to link up on a different track. And not to sound like a too much of a train nerd (because I really don't understand a whole lot,) but I'm pretty sure that cabooses would have been made altogether obsolete if not for this one feature. A good caboose requires the ability to switch.

That's the part I have trouble with--The part that puts me in the front and pulls everyone else behind me; the part that is able to switch gears and take a new path.
Whether it be from fear or complacency, if you've been the caboose long enough it's just easier just to ride in the back. You get really good at it, even.

But that's not all we're meant to do, friends. We were made for more!
Yes, we are to be servants. Yes, we are to be lookouts. Yes, we are to be shelters. Yes, we are to be a safety net.
Be we are also meant to be leaders.
We are meant to be guides. We are meant to be teachers. We are meant to be trailblazers and way-makers.

We can't do one part of our job and not the other.
It's time to be the "whole caboose." ;)

So if you're at all like me and you've been spending a little bit too much time in the back
Let's switch it up!

That little black dot in the front is yours truly leading her most precious freight.