Live Life Big Travel

“The silence of solo travel invites encounters you’d never find in conversation.”

I often find myself hungering for someone to travel with — someone to share laughter with over an unexpected café find, to marvel with as we gaze into the sunset, or to hold me close as we listen to the waterfall’s whisper. The loneliness can sneak up quietly, especially when surrounded by so much beauty. Yet, even in that ache, I’ve come to realize there are countless gifts in traveling solo.

✈️ The Freedom to Choose

First of all, I get to choose the place.

Oh, the places I could go! No waiting, no debating — just me, my passport, and a world full of “why nots.” My Google Maps is overflowing with pins — each one a dream sparked by a travel reel, a photo, or a passing conversation. The only challenge is deciding which one to chase next.

Solo travel gives me the freedom to move entirely at my own rhythm — to go where I want, do what I love, and rest when I need to. I’m not following anyone’s schedule but my own.

As a hiker and photographer, I often linger longer than most — pausing to notice the way a single leaf curls, or how the light filters through moss-covered branches. The smallest details tell the biggest stories.

One day, while hiking the Grotto Falls Trail on the Roaring Fork Motor Trail just outside Gatlinburg, Tennessee, I heard a rustle behind me. I turned to see two black bears padding softly onto the path, just twenty yards away. My heart raced, but I stood still. They looked at me, then wandered quietly down the trail. It was a surreal, breath-holding moment — one I would have missed if I’d been chatting with a companion. The silence of solo travel had invited that encounter.

🙏 Dependent on Jesus

You might think that traveling solo would make me more independent.

But honestly? It’s had the opposite effect.

I’ve become more dependent — not on people, but on Jesus.

When I’m alone, I find myself talking with Him more than anyone else. Traveling solo draws me closer to my Lord, my Daddy. In the stillness, when it’s just me and the world He created, I sense His presence in the smallest of moments.

Sometimes, as I watch an inchworm stretch toward the next leaf, I hear His whisper in my heart:

“Stretch. Reach. I’ll be there for you. Trust Me.”

My solo travels often turn into conversations with Jesus. When things go smoothly, I see His fingerprints all over my path and whisper a quiet, thank You. When plans fall apart — well, that’s when I lean into Him even more.

Like the time my phone slipped from my pocket. My watch had disconnected, so I couldn’t track it. After a quick thought of panic — I turned to prayer. “Okay, Jesus,” I said, “how are we going to find this phone?”

Then I remembered the concierge who’d told me to text anytime if I needed help. Of course, I couldn’t text her — I had no phone! I went to the concierge’s desk and she let me send a message to my daughter:

“Your mother needs a photo of where her phone is, Zoe.”

Moments later came her confused reply:

“This number isn’t saved in my phone. Who is this?”

I laughed out loud as I typed back,

“It’s Melissa Johnson. A total stranger is letting me use their phone.”

She told me the phone was at my resort. Duh! I needed a screenshot to know exactly where.

We may have blonde roots, but we sure have bright spirits — and a God who always helps us find what’s lost, even if it’s just our phone.

🤝 The People God Sends

I’ve learned that Jesus never lets me walk this world alone. Somehow, He always brings the right people into my path — people who turn ordinary days into blessings I’ll never forget.

At Treasure Lake near Villa Rica, Georgia, I met a group of kind, joyful souls who invited me out on their boat to watch the fireworks. We laughed, swapped stories, and sang along with the music echoing over the water. That night felt like home, even hundreds of miles away from my own. We still keep in touch on Facebook — and in their honor, I have to say it: Roll Tide Roll! ❤️

In Montana, I met another traveler who shared my passion for photography. We spent hours talking about light, landscapes, and the way nature seems to speak through the lens. He encouraged me to share my photos on the Montana and Idaho Road Trips Facebook page, and now we connect often, trading shots and stories of the wild places we love.

But one of the most meaningful friendships came from a moment of need. During a trip to Washington, my plans with a travel group suddenly fell through. Unsure of what to do next, I posted in the Teachers Hosting Teachers Facebook group — and that’s when Jesus sent me an angel.

She opened her home to me in Port Angeles, offering her child’s bed and her warm, steady kindness. A teacher, tutor, and pilot, she was studying aviation management — something that sounded incredibly complex to me! Now she works for Alaska Airlines, still chasing her own dreams among the clouds. She’s the one who told me about Bettles, the tiny Alaskan town where I later stood beneath the shimmering Northern Lights — a moment I owe to her generosity and friendship.

Traveling is our shared passion, but it’s more than that. It’s a reminder that God weaves hearts together across miles and moments. When we trust Him to guide our path, He fills it with people who reflect His love in the most unexpected ways.

🌅 Never Truly Alone

“Independence doesn’t mean isolation — it means walking with faith beside you.”

Traveling solo has taught me that I’m never truly alone. The miles between places may be long, but they’re filled with moments that whisper God’s presence — in the laughter of new friends, the quiet stillness of the forest, or the glimmer of the Northern Lights dancing across the sky.

Each journey reminds me that independence doesn’t mean isolation. It means trusting that Jesus walks beside me — guiding my steps, opening doors, and placing the right people along my path. When I stretch beyond my comfort zone, He’s the steady hand that keeps me grounded and the gentle voice that says, “I’m here.”

I’ve learned that traveling solo is more than seeing new places; it’s about seeing myself through His eyes. Every detour, every challenge, every breathtaking view becomes part of a larger story — one written with grace, courage, and faith.

✨ Dreams Come True at Newman’s Castle

Have you ever dreamed of knights, castles, and fairytales come to life? Those stories of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty live deep in every child’s heart — and maybe still in ours, too. Hidden away in the quiet countryside of Bellville, Texas, there’s a place where those dreams still breathe: Newman’s Castle.

It’s a real-life fairytale fortress, tucked behind rolling pastures, where imagination meets stone walls, towers, and moats. Step through the gates, and you just might feel your childhood dreams coming true. 🏰✨

Newman’s Castle — A Texas Fairytale Come to Life

This castle was once the dream of Mike Newman, the beloved owner of Newman’s Bakery in Bellville, Texas. What began as a personal project turned into a community treasure — a living fairytale rising from the Texas countryside.

Mike spent decades bringing his dream to life, crafting a castle complete with a working drawbridge over a moat, towering turrets with panoramic views, a torture chamber, a chapel, and a great hall fit for royal feasts.

After a short drive from the bakery in town, visitors are greeted with warm hospitality — now carried on by Mike’s nephew, who shares stories about his uncle’s passion and legacy. Then, guests are free to explore the castle grounds at their own pace, pausing midway for a hearty sandwich and sweet treat from the bakery that started it all.

The moment you step onto the drawbridge, you step back in time. Inside, the rooms are filled with handcrafted furniture and fixtures, every detail lovingly designed. Climbing the tower rewards you with a breathtaking view — soft breezes, peaceful silence, and a lily filled pond.

Tips for Visiting

Reservations are needed for tours — go online at the website, call Newman’s Bakery in advance, or maybe you could get lucky enough at showing up at the bakery for breakfast and ask if a tour is available today.

Stop at Newman's Bakery before 1030 to grab a kolache, cookie, or donut to get to the castle by 11:00 to start the tour.

Bring comfortable shoes — there are steps and uneven stone paths.

As I was leaving, I caught a glimpse of little girl prancing in princess dresses across the drawbridge. I could hear an excited giggle echoing across the pond as she disappeared into the castle. It felt like the perfect ending to a storybook day — a reminder that dreams, no matter how whimsical, can come true.

Coffee with Capybaras in Harajuku, Tokyo 🐾☕

How many of y’all had a guinea pig growing up? Wouldn’t it be wild to meet their much, much bigger cousin? The capybara is the largest rodent in the world — and while they might not make the best house pet (unless you have a swimming pool and a giant yard!), they are some of the most gentle, laid-back animals you’ll ever meet.

I found that out firsthand when I visited a capybara café in Harajuku, Tokyo.

Getting In

These kinds of cafés are super popular in Japan, and they usually require reservations. Luckily, I happened to walk up at just the right time — they had an opening in the next group session, and I got in! (Tip: if you’re planning ahead, definitely book online so you’re not left outside wishing you were inside with the capybaras.)

The Experience

The café itself felt like stepping into a whimsical little world. Soft music, cozy seating, and then—right in the middle of it all—two giant capybaras just hanging out like they owned the place. They weren’t in a rush to impress anyone; they lounged, munched, and occasionally waddled past as if to say, “Hey, thanks for visiting.”

Guests could gently pet them, take photos, and just soak in their mellow energy. Honestly, there’s something almost therapeutic about being near such a relaxed creature. In a city as fast-paced as Tokyo, the café felt like pressing pause for a little while.

More Than Capybaras

This particular spot in Harajuku wasn’t only about capybaras. There were also other animals to see. The cats were so playful and a mellowed Shar Pei.

Final Thoughts

Dancing with Jesus: A Reflection on Worship

The Downside of Traveling

One of the unexpected downfalls of traveling so often is not being able to worship with my home church congregation. There is a special joy in joining familiar voices, seeing familiar faces, and experiencing the presence of God together in a place. When I am away, I miss that shared rhythm of worship—the unity of hearts and voices lifting up the name of Jesus. Though I can worship anywhere, there is something sacred about being rooted in a body of believers.

Worship in My Early Years

As a young Christian, worship looked very different for me than it does now. I knew the words—“Jesus lives in me”—but I didn’t truly comprehend what that meant. Saying it and believing it were two different things. I grew up attending a Baptist church where worship was very conservative. People sang hymns with reverence, but there was little outward expression. The first time I saw someone lift their hands in praise, I found it distracting. In fact, I had to sit in front of them so I wouldn’t be distracted by their raised arms. I thought they were reaching for God in some outward effort, not realizing that true worship comes from Jesus within us. I just didn’t get it.

As the years went on, I started attending a nondenominational church. It was there that things began to click. Teaching and experience opened my eyes to a deeper understanding of worship. I began to see that worship isn’t just us reaching upward—it is the life of Jesus in us flowing outward. It’s not performance or ritual but relationship. I started to understand that worship can look different for everyone and that God delights in the variety of expressions that come from His children.

Worship Today

Now, worship is one of the deepest joys of my walk with Christ. When I gather with others, I love to lift my voice and heart in praise, knowing that it is Jesus within me worshipping through me. Psalm 22:3 says that God inhabits the praises of His people, and I can almost picture it: the Holy Spirit moving like a gentle wind, swirling above and around the congregation as our worship creates a dwelling place for His presence.

Worship has also become very personal. Sometimes I imagine myself as a little girl standing on her Daddy’s feet, slow dancing with Jesus as His arms wrap around me. I feel His embrace, His strength, and His love so tangibly that it often brings tears to my eyes. In those moments, worship is not about songs or motions—it is about intimacy with Him.

Above the clouds

With each step toward the CCC Overlook West Shelter, I resisted the temptation to look out until I arrived. Stepping inside felt like stepping back in time—the stonework, hand-hewn nearly a century ago, carried the quiet romance of another era. This little refuge seemed built for moments of pause, maybe even for stealing a kiss.

And then, I turned to the view. Oh, the view. Endless blue stretched forever, the Pacific rolling out beyond sight. Waves pounded the rocks far below, their rhythm rising through the cliffs. A billowy cloud drifted beneath me, dividing heaven from earth. I breathed in the mingling scents of sea and forest, felt the wind brush against my skin, and let every sense awaken.

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It was as if the falls whispered to my soul: “Here is my life energy, making you whole, complete, one with me.”

Finding Jesus Among Temples and Shrines

Traveling through a country filled with ancient temples and sacred shrines—where faith is visible in the architecture, rituals, and daily life—has stirred something deep in me. It’s hard to be surrounded by such reverence and tradition without reflecting on your own beliefs.

I’ve never considered myself a "religious" person. To me, religion often looks like tradition and ritual—acts performed to appease a god or gain favor, often driven by fear. People build temples, offer prayers, and follow rules, hoping their devotion will be enough. It’s a system rooted in “do this, then maybe you’ll be accepted.”

But my relationship with Jesus is different.

It’s not about rituals. It’s not about earning anything. It’s about knowing. I know I am His. I am adopted, chosen, and loved by Jesus. He’s not just God to me—He’s my Father, my Daddy, who loves me beyond what I can comprehend. I don’t need to earn His favor, because I already have it. I don’t work for His blessings; He blesses me because of who He is, not what I do.

Becoming a parent helped me understand His heart even more. The love I feel for my children is overwhelming—and yet I know His love for me is even greater. That humbles me and fills me with gratitude. I only pray I can reflect even a fraction of that love as a mother.

Interestingly, as I walk through these temples—admiring the intricate craftsmanship and reverent design—I often find myself thinking of my Lord Jesus. The beauty I see, the skill of the artisans, the quiet reverence in the air... all of it points me back to Him. After all, He is the Creator of heaven and earth, and every good thing is ultimately inspired by Him.

Majestic.

Strong.

Resilient.

Massive.

Commanding.

Isn’t that a perfect way to describe our country? What better symbol of the United States of America than the American Bison?

I remember the first time I saw one up close. It was in a drive-through petting zoo just north of Johnson City, Texas, when my kids were little. That bison had so much character—he strolled up like he wanted to give us a hug, wrapping his long tongue around our hands to grab the food we held out. He was gentle, almost comical, and oddly affectionate.

But that was nothing like the bison I later encountered in Yellowstone and Wind Cave National Parks.

Those bison were different—majestic in the truest sense. Broad-shouldered with thick, shaggy manes, dark brows, and rippling muscles that moved with quiet power as they glided across the sea of grass. These weren’t animals asking for affection. They were commanding you—without a word—to stay alert, to take heed. Their presence was undeniable. Their curved horns stood like exclamation marks saying, “I am in charge. This is my domain.”

They didn’t care where you were—you moved. You gave them room. Out of respect. Out of awe.

I can understand now the deep reverence that Native American tribes hold for the bison. To many, the Tatanka—the Lakota word for bison—represents life itself. They believed the bison were their ancestors, laying down their lives so the people could live. From the bison came food, shelter, tools, and clothing. It wasn’t just an animal; it was a gift. A sacrifice. A sacred exchange between creature and man.

What a symbol for our country.

Yes—majestic, strong, resilient, massive, and commanding.

But also—sacrificing.

From Goo-Goo Eyes to Game Day: My Lifelong Crush

In 1978, when I was just eight years old, I fell in love.

He was strong. He was handsome. And he had not one, but two massive rings. People listened when he spoke. He had a personality that lit up a room—and most importantly, my Daddy worshipped him.

My Daddy was a huge Dallas Cowboys fan. The kind of fan who cheered loudly from his recliner every Sunday. He celebrated every Super Bowl win like it was a personal victory. So, when the Sundown Independent School District, where he served on the school board, arranged for Charlie Waters—two-time Super Bowl-winning Safety for the Cowboys—to speak at our school Athletic Banquet, it was a major event.

Charlie Waters was captivating, funny, and charming. And little eight-year-old me? I was completely goo-goo-eyed. I didn’t care that I barely understood football—I understood him. From that day on, I was hooked.

Growing up, the Cowboys were always part of my world. I watched the games with Daddy and soaked up every win (and loss) with pride. Back then, Daddy took my brother to a couple of games. I was never asked to go. I was the little girl. Football wasn't my thing.

But the Cowboys? Oh, the 1970s Super Bowl-winning Cowboys—they were definitely my thing.

Fast forward to now. Life gave me the blessing of a little extra money—and a good friend just as Cowboys-crazy as my Daddy. So, I did something for me. I bought tickets to a Cowboys game.

And you better believe I wore my Charlie Waters jersey.

WOOOOHOOOO! I cheered, I screamed, I laughed like a kid again. My friend helped me figure out who was who on the field, and I let loose like I hadn’t in years. We had the time of our lives.

The Cowboys didn’t win that day—but I did.