Switching Tracks:  How an Unexpected Detour Led Me Home

Originally written from the perspective of September 2024

Editor’s Note

This article was originally written in September 2024, just weeks after I stepped away from my nonprofit leadership career and began building what would become Chicks on the Road. I’ve preserved it as a reflection from that season because it captures the uncertainty, hope, and quiet faith of standing at the beginning of a journey without knowing where the tracks would lead.

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There are certain moments in life when everything changes.

Not with a dramatic crash or a flashing neon sign, but quietly—almost unnoticed—like the gentle click of a railroad switch guiding a train onto a different track.

From a distance, the train never stops moving. It continues forward, just as it always has. But beneath the wheels, something profound has happened. A destination that once seemed certain has been exchanged for one that is completely unknown.

That’s where I find myself today.

As I write these words in September 2024, I honestly don’t know what lies ahead.

Just a few weeks ago, I was leading advancement efforts for a nonprofit organization I deeply cared about. Like so many professionals, I had spent years building a meaningful career, believing I knew exactly where my path was leading.

Then, almost overnight, everything changed.

Losing my position wasn’t part of my plan. It was painful, unexpected, and more than a little frightening. For a while, it felt as though the train had simply stopped.

But as the days passed, I began to wonder if that wasn’t the whole story.

Maybe it hadn’t stopped at all.

Maybe it had simply switched tracks.

For years, I had been moving so quickly that I rarely stopped long enough to ask myself one important question:

Was I still traveling toward the life I had once dreamed of?

That question carried me back more than thirty years.

Back to 1992.

Back to a young woman with a notebook full of ideas, a heart full of hope, and a dream she called The Victorian Picnic.

I didn’t know it then, but that little dream would quietly wait through career changes, family milestones, deadlines, responsibilities, and decades of life.

Perhaps you’ve experienced something similar.

Maybe life has interrupted your plans.

Maybe you’re standing at your own railroad crossing, wondering why the journey has taken a direction you never expected.

If so, I hope you’ll stay awhile.

Because this isn’t simply the story of losing a job.

It’s the story of finding my way back to a dream.

And perhaps, in the process, finding my way home.

A Dream That Refused to Leave

Long before there was a website, a business plan, or even the name Chicks on the Road, there was a dream.

It wasn’t really about a Victorian picnic.

Not exactly.

The picnic represented something much deeper.

It was about creating a life that felt warm, welcoming, intentional, and beautiful.

I imagined gathering family around thoughtfully set tables, lingering over conversations that didn’t need to end too quickly, traveling scenic back roads instead of always taking the fastest highway, and opening my home in ways that made people feel known and loved.

I dreamed about slowing down enough to notice the beauty hidden in ordinary days.

Life, of course, had other plans.

There were careers to build.

Children to raise.

Organizations to serve.

Communities to strengthen.

For years I had the privilege of working alongside remarkable people and meaningful missions. I poured my heart into helping nonprofits grow, raising support for causes that mattered deeply to me.

I don’t regret those years.

Not for a moment.

But beneath the busy schedules and endless meetings, that quiet dream never completely disappeared.

Every charming small town reminded me.

Every peaceful lakeside porch.

Every beautifully decorated home.

Every family gathering around a holiday table.

Every winding country road.

The dream was still there.

Patiently waiting.

Perhaps God wasn’t asking me to give it up.

Perhaps He was simply asking me to wait until the right season.

Learning to Be Still

If I’m honest, I didn’t wake up the morning after losing my job with a business plan.

I woke up with questions.

What now?

Should I begin searching for another leadership position?

Was this simply an interruption before returning to the work I had always known?

Or was God gently inviting me toward something entirely different?

For someone who had spent years living by calendars, meetings, fundraising campaigns, and strategic plans, the quiet felt unfamiliar.

The phone wasn’t constantly ringing.

There wasn’t another board meeting waiting.

No overflowing inbox demanding immediate attention.

At first, the silence felt uncomfortable.

Then it slowly became a gift.

I began noticing things I had been rushing past for years.

Morning sunlight across the kitchen table.

A cup of coffee that didn’t have to be finished in the car.

The changing colors outside my window.

Time to pray without watching the clock.

Time to read.

Time to think.

Time simply to be.

For years I had helped other organizations pursue their missions.

Somewhere along the way, I had quietly convinced myself that my own dream could always wait until someday.

Someday when life slowed down.

Someday when there was more time.

Someday.

As I sat in the quiet of those September mornings, I realized something that challenged me.

If I waited for the perfect season, I might spend the rest of my life waiting.

Maybe the perfect season wasn’t arriving someday.

Maybe it had quietly arrived today.

Not because everything was certain.

Not because I knew exactly what I was doing.

But because, for the first time in many years, I had the freedom to choose the direction of the next chapter instead of simply keeping pace with the last one.

The First Steps Down a New Track

I didn’t begin this journey with a detailed plan.

I began with a dream that had quietly followed me for more than thirty years.

Little by little, the pieces started coming together.

Home.

Travel.

Family traditions.

Hospitality.

Faith.

Small towns.

Lakeside mornings.

Road trips.

Stories worth remembering.

At first, they looked like unrelated pieces.

Eventually I began to see they were all connected.

They weren’t separate interests.

They were pieces of the life I had quietly been building in my heart for decades.

I realized I didn’t simply want to create a website.

I wanted to create a place where people could slow down.

Where families could rediscover meaningful traditions.

Where hospitality mattered.

Where travel wasn’t measured by miles but by memories.

Where beautiful homes were less about perfection and more about the people gathered inside them.

A place that reminded us all that the greatest moments in life are often the ordinary ones.

I didn’t yet know exactly what that place would become.

But I knew I wanted to begin.

Looking Down the Tracks

Today I still don’t know exactly where this journey will lead.

That’s both exciting and a little frightening.

There will undoubtedly be wrong turns.

There will be lessons I haven’t yet learned.

There will be days when I’ll wonder whether I’ve chosen the right track.

But for the first time in a very long time, I feel like I’m moving toward something instead of simply moving through something.

If you’ve found yourself standing at an unexpected crossroads, I hope you’ll know you’re not alone.

Sometimes the track beneath our feet changes before our hearts are ready.

Sometimes what feels like an ending quietly becomes the beginning of the life we were always meant to live.

Perhaps the destination isn’t changing because we’ve failed.

Perhaps it’s changing because grace has gently reached down and moved the switch.

From the Porch

Looking back, I realize something now that I couldn’t fully see when I first wrote these words.

The railroad switch wasn’t there to take me away from the life I loved.

It was there to lead me toward the life I had quietly been preparing for all along.

Perhaps that’s true for more of us than we realize.

We spend years believing the journey is about reaching the next promotion, the next milestone, the next accomplishment. Then life unexpectedly changes direction, and for a while all we can see is what we’ve lost.

But sometimes the new track isn’t taking us away from our purpose.

Sometimes it’s finally leading us toward it.

That’s my hope for Chicks on the Road.

Not that it becomes a place filled with perfect homes or perfect vacations, but that it becomes a gentle reminder that the richest parts of life are rarely found in extraordinary moments.

They’re found around dinner tables.

On front porches.

Along quiet country roads.

On peaceful lakes.

In conversations with grandparents.

In traditions that children will one day pass to their own families.

They’re found in the ordinary moments we choose to notice.

Because one day, today’s ordinary Tuesday afternoon may become someone’s favorite memory.

So if this season of your life feels uncertain, take heart.

You don’t have to see the entire journey to trust the next stretch of track.

Just keep moving forward.

We’ll travel it together.

Welcome home.