No One Interviews the One Who Stayed Home
I went on a cruise last year with friends.
It was filled with fun—helping them offset the cost of a room by joining in, sharing space, keeping company.
I signed up to swim with pigs.
They wanted to do bar rivia.
I did karaoke and rode ATVs.
They floated on rivers and sat around.
I wanted to taste the world.
I am not sure what they thought about me.
Maybe I am too much.
But you know what?
I am alive.
Later, I found out they invited me because I was easy.
Not fun. Not inspiring. Not welcome. Just easy.
Because I travel solo.
Because I don’t “need” anyone to figure things out for me.
Because I don’t mind moving through the world on my own.
Apparently, being a travel nurse…
A mission trip woman…
A “she’ll go even if no one else does” kind of person…
Made me convenient.
But not… connected. It hurt.
And I felt it.
The undertones.
The whispers.
“She doesn’t mind leaving her kids.”
“She doesn’t need her husband around.”
“She just does whatever she wants.”
Let’s talk about that.
Because yes—I have left my kids before when they were in good hands.
I leave them for school, daycare, summer camp, children’s church and at home with responsible adults to look after them.
Yes—I have traveled without my husband who loves my whole soul.
Because we trust each other and know how to hear from God, even when our callings lead us to different shores.
And yes—I’ve figured out things solo.
Not because I want to be alone.
But because I refuse to wait for someone else to give me permission to live.
You know what I’ve realized?
No one interviews the person who stayed home.
No one says, “Tell us what you learned by sitting still and playing it safe.”
But they’ll write whole group chats about the one who dared to do more.
And maybe that’s the part that stings the most.
Not that they whispered.
But that I cared what they thought.
So here’s what it says about me:
I’m not afraid to move.
I’m not afraid to return.
I’m not afraid to go alone—because I know who’s walking with me.
My family knows I come back with stories and a growing prayer life.
My God knows my heart of concern for people outside of my own community.
And my children will know that mom didn’t just talk about purpose;
She walked it.
Across oceans.
Through airports.
Even onto a pig-filled beach in the Bahamas.
Call me extra.
Call me bold.
Call me inconvenient.
But don’t ever call me invisible.
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