It was my last winter living in Charlotte, Michigan – a small city just outside of Lansing. I owned a country home on a couple of acres, about ten miles from the RE/MAX office I was a part of since ’95.

My bachelor life offered me an open schedule that included late nights at the office, squeezing in an evening workout at the gym, going to a Michigan State Spartans game, playing flag football, or pickup basketball with the guys.

One night, after a major snowfall, I was driving home from the office. The roads were blanketed, the snow was deep, and the plows hadn’t made their rounds yet. I was carving my own tracks down Cochran Road. It was clear, cold, and brutally beautiful.

About a mile from home, I lost control. The deep snow grabbed my car and pulled it into the ditch.
There I was—stuck and stranded.

This wasn’t unfamiliar. In Mid-Michigan winters, sliding off the road due to snow, ice, or slush happened more than once, especially when I drove too fast, convinced my skills could conquer the conditions. I paused and weighed my options.

I could call my dad, but it was after 10:00 p.m. I pictured him in his recliner, wrapped in a blanket, watching his favorite show. I could call 911 and wait thirty minutes or more for a wrecker. Or…I could make it home faster on foot.

So that’s what I did.

I put on my winter hat, pulled on my boots, zipped my coat to the top, and started jogging down the middle of the road. The distance wasn’t intimidating. There was no risk. I knew I could make it with effort, because I ran these country roads for years as part of my training and routines.

The cold air was invigorating. I could see my breath rise into the night, illuminated by a full moon and bright stars. It was quiet except the sound of my breathing and fresh snow crunching under my boots. It was peaceful and I felt alive. Strong.

I embraced the moment because I knew it was my last winter there. I was planning my move to New Orleans in July. The cold, the snow, the ice, the gray skies, and days enduring temperatures in the teens were almost behind me. Knowing that made it easier to take on this winter night. It tested me and I wanted the challenge.

That was twenty-five years ago.

Today, my kind of winter is a low of 37 and a high of 72! Years before I met Stephanie Savoy Jones, I decided I wanted to live in a warmer climate. New Orleans wasn’t on my radar or list of destinations, but I can honestly say I longed for eight months of summer over eight months of winter. I wanted a change, and I welcomed it when the opportunity came.

Life is full of choices, some small, some life-altering. And while perfection may be out of reach, we can often get close to the life we envision if we’re willing to dream, work, wait, adapt, and act when the season presents itself. Just like winter storms, life is unpredictable, and unexpected but experience, faith and commitment can take us "home."

Wherever you find yourself, know that you're not going to be there long - regardless of the conditions.

Seasons change. And so do we.

We adapt. We cope. We overcome. We move on...

Even after a long, cold, dark winter night, joy truly does come in the morning.

The next day, I called my dad, and he pulled my car out of the ditch with his little Jeep Wrangler. He had a way of showing up when I needed him most!

“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” - Ecclesiastes 3:1

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” - Albert Camus