When the plans change, go anyway

The Trip That Wasn’t the Plan

One of my goals this year was simple:

spend more time outside, more time moving, more time in nature.

Back in April, the plan was to hike at Santa Fe Lake in Augusta.

But like a lot of things lately—the plan changed.

Instead, I found myself loading up the car with a shelter dog named Sadie, grabbing my trusty shotgun rider (my mom), and heading toward Wilson, Kansas.

Sadie was being adopted, and her new family was driving in from Colorado. They asked if we could meet halfway.

Of course we said yes.

And just like that, the day shifted.

It was one of those bittersweet handoffs.

The kind where you know, without a doubt, that this dog is going to have a better life—but you still feel it when you say goodbye.

Sadie was going to be loved. That part was clear.

Still, those moments always stay with me.

Kansas decided to do what Kansas does best that day—cold, windy, and not exactly inviting.

So hiking at Wilson Lake wasn’t happening.

Instead, we did something I’m learning to appreciate more and more:

We stayed open to what the day wanted to be instead of what we planned.

Wilson is a small town—less than a thousand people—but it carries a strong identity.

It’s known as the Czech Capital of Kansas, and you can feel that woven into everything.

We wandered through shops, stopped at the old water tower turned jail from 1907, and spent time inside the Kansas Originals Market, where everything is handmade by local artists. The kind of place where people are genuinely kind and take the time to talk to you.

We found one of the “Little Sisters of Liberty”—a smaller replica of the Statue of Liberty. There are about 27 scattered across Kansas, placed years ago by the Boy Scouts.

And without even realizing it at the time, those statues have become part of our story.

I had a picture taken with one when I was a little girl.

Now, years later, my mom and I stop and take a picture every time we find another.

Somehow, those small moments connect who I was to who I’m becoming.

Of course, no stop in Wilson is complete without seeing the World’s Largest Czech Egg.

Another tradition.

Another reminder that not everything has to be serious to matter.

On the way home, we took the backroads.

No rush. No real destination—just space.

We passed through towns we’d never been to, making quiet mental notes to come back someday.

There were bison in the distance, rocky outcroppings, open sky, and that kind of stillness you don’t realize you need until you’re in it.

We didn’t talk much.

We didn’t need to.

And somewhere along that drive, I felt it—

That sense of resetting.

Of regrouping.

Of coming back to myself a little.