Transitioning from a sprawling 4000 square foot house to the confines of a 40 ft RV was no simple feat—but a series of moves which catapulted us toward unintentional minimalism.

Over a decade ago, we sensed a subtle prompting from God to step away from the conventional American life. No loud booming voice, just a prodding, an undeniable jab that wouldn’t stop. While a trend buzzed around a 30-day experiment limiting wardrobe choices, media, food options and more, my life was in the midst of a heart transformation. While others dabbled in minimalism, I was living it in real-time.

This wasn’t a one-month challenge but a profound shift demanding a wholehearted commitment.

The initial shift to a small three-bedroom condo was met with frustrations and complaints—perhaps a hint of an entitled mentality. Yet, I pulled up my big girl panties and obeyed, believing God had a bigger plan for our family. In our case, that meant crossing an international border.

And oh, did I mention we were a family of eight?

Loading necessities and storing boxes of memories, we embarked on an adventure. Nine months in a tiny condo, followed by five months in two dorm rooms—was undeniably hard. The final step was embracing life in a RV. “Cramped” doesn’t even begin to describe it; we were closer than we ever thought possible. Yet, amid the laughter, occasional collisions, and invasion of each other’s space, it was beautiful chaos that created an undeniable bond.

Love permeated that metal home.

The question of whether I can do hard things became a resounding “yes.”

Living with less? Another affirmative.

But still having way too much stuff? Guilty as charged.

Which brings us to this moment—I stored things.

And now, here I am, grappling with the challenge posed by the plethora of items left behind. Did I miss all those possessions? Not really. So why is it so difficult to let go?

Navigating the vast canyon between hoarding and minimalism becomes the real challenge.

Figuring out what to release and what to hold dear is paralyzing. However, the price of keeping has a cost. As I declutter and relish the freedom in bare shelves, I slowly shift from the accumulation of material things.

Embracing less isn’t just about freeing up physical space; it requires reshaping spending habits.

A space with breathing room not only lightens the physical load but also brings unexpected change to my pocketbook. Time spent enjoying what I love best will replace hours lost maintaining massive amounts of material belongings.

It all boils down to a choice—dominate your stuff, or it will dominate you.

Do you want to spend your day managing objects or spend it doing what you love?