We Don’t Wait for the Call—We Show Up

You know how some families say, “Call me if you need anything”?
Well, ours doesn’t wait for the call.

We show up. No second-guessing. No hesitating. No wondering if it’s the right time. We simply move quietly, lovingly, instinctively. Because real love? It’s not just whispered in the quiet moments. It’s carried in the soles of our feet, in the arms that wrap around you tight, in the steady presence that says, “You’re not alone.”

Love is standing beside you in the downpour, arms wide open. It’s dancing barefoot in the sunlight like the whole world has just been born again.

Recently, I was nestled in the warm, healing waters of Desert Reef—my favorite little sanctuary tucked away under the wide Colorado sky—letting the mineral-rich steam melt away the noise of the day. Across from me, a dear friend floated, the kind of friend you can sit in silence with and still feel deeply understood. We were wrapped in conversation about life—about the rhythm of our days, the way we try to move through the world with open hearts and clear intention. While our lives and families are very different we both agreed that:

In our family, we show up for it all.

We show up when life is golden and generous.
For birthdays with too many balloons, and anniversaries that sparkle under string lights. For wobbly first bike rides and proud kindergarten art shows. Someone’s always holding a camera. Ashlin is  probably holding cupcakes.

On school mornings, it’s Gigi at the door—twirling and singing a silly song as the littles head out with giggles in their bellies and love in their hearts. We let them stay up too late sometimes, because honestly? Some nights are just too sweet to end.

It can be expected that the unexpected dance parties often happens here. Kitchen dance party, driveway shimmy, backyard spin-off. Music from an old speaker or maybe just the soundtrack in Gigi’s head. 

Barefoot. Offbeat. Radiant with joy.

Because joy deserves to be honored, even on a Tuesday.

 

We don’t just show up for the sunshine. We show up in the shadows, too. When life gets hard, we’re already on our way before the phone call’s even over. Middle of the night emergencies? We’re throwing on sweatshirts, keys in hand. When grief shows up like a wave that knocks you off your feet, we bring comfort, hot meals, soft blankets, and quiet company. We sit with you, no pressure to talk, just being there because sometimes that’s all that’s needed.

We show up in hospital rooms, at kitchen tables, on quiet porches where sorrow sits heavy. We offer silence. We offer space. We offer presence. Because sometimes love isn’t loud, it’s steady. It is soft.

And when someone’s world feels like it’s falling apart, we say the most sacred words we know:

Come Home

Crawl into bed. Let it be messy. Let yourself rest. You are safe here.

Because in this family, love is a sanctuary. A landing place. A shelter from the storm.

We show up in the in-between moments, too.

When Papa’s steps falter, we’re there with steady arms and patient pace.
When Grams feels that creative spark and needs a partner to paint the garden rocks or craft glittery signs, we pull out the art box and get gloriously messy. 

Skinned knees? We’ve got Band-Aids—and kisses that actually heal.
Broken toys? We’ll find a screwdriver and some super glue.
Big feelings from little hearts or even old hearts? We drop everything, sit cross-legged on the floor, and listen until the storm inside them settles. Sometimes all you need is a witness. 

Oh, Gigi is a force of nature and love. When she gets a wild idea, and believe me, there are plenty, we don’t question. We rally.
Raising worms to nourish the garden soil? Count us in.
Another animal on the homestead? Sure, we’ll build a coop or clear a stall.
Sudden walk in the rain? We grab the boots and splash through puddles like we’re five again. If glitter is involved, we accept the sparkle and the sweeping with grace and laughter. Because when Gigi dreams, she dreams in technicolor—and we love her enough to follow her, wherever her magic leads.

Then there’s Ashlin, whose baking feels like a love language all its own. That scent of cinnamon and butter wafts through the homestead like a whisper of love. You could be elbow-deep in chores and suddenly find yourself drifting toward the kitchen, eyes closed, nose up, waiting for a cookie to find your palm.

And when someone’s heading out of state, even if it’s just for a few days, Ashlin quietly starts gathering comfort in the kitchen. She puts together a to-go box the way only someone who loves with her whole heart can. Inside, you’ll find her soft, golden rolls, still warm if you’re lucky, and those white chocolate macadamia nut cookies that melt on your tongue and taste like a memory you didn’t know you needed. She tucks everything in gently, as if each bite could carry a piece of home and wrap you in love from miles away.

Papa John especially treasures these sweet send-offs, not just for the treats (though his taste buds are endlessly grateful), but for the way Ashlin pours love into every bite. He feels it deeply, this quiet care she gives so freely, and we all do. It's more than food, it’s a gift, a blessing, a reminder that we are always held.

But the best part?
Our love doesn’t stop at the garden gate.

Whether you’re across town or across the country, if you need us, we’re already packing bags and planning playlists. A long drive? We’re filling thermoses. A last-minute flight? We’re at the gate before you finish the sentence.

Because in our family, love isn’t measured in miles. It’s measured in the willingness to go the distance.

Emergencies? We don’t ask, “Do you need me?” We’re already in the car.
Celebrations? We bring the hugs, the music, and the beautifully bad dancing. 
When life gets messy, tragic, extraordinary, or achingly ordinary we hold it all, together. No one carries anything alone.

Because in this family, love doesn’t knock.

It flings the door open, kicks off its shoes, and says, “I’m here.”
No invitation needed. We don't wait for the call.

We Show Up!

Always!