“Long Days, Late Nights, and the Wheel of Doom” What a YouTube series taught us about family, freedom, and the gift of slowing down

Somewhere early this summer, our son introduced us to a YouTuber whose content was—thankfully—both wholesome and sincere. That’s no small thing these days. So we watched a few videos, got a feel for the tone, and gave him the green light to keep watching. Not long after, we found out the YouTuber and his wife were about to attempt something wild: visiting all 50 states in 50 days to raise money for a good cause.

They’d travel from Airbnb to Airbnb, documenting every moment and challenge—including this bizarre contraption they brought along called the “Wheel of Doom.” If someone donated $50,000 or more, they had to spin the wheel and take on whatever obstacle it threw at them—no matter how inconvenient, ridiculous, or uncomfortable. It added a dose of chaos to every leg of the trip, a sort of built-in drama.

But for us, watching it wasn’t chaotic at all. In fact, it became the most grounding rhythm of our summer.

Evenings That Felt Like They Should

Most nights after dinner, we’d gather in the living room and hit play. No one was in a rush. There was no homework waiting, no early alarms to dread, no stress pushing us toward bed. The pressure was off. We’d watch the video, then talk about what we liked in that night’s Airbnb. We’d imagine the challenges we might face if we had to spin the Wheel of Doom. Sometimes we laughed harder than we expected. Sometimes we just watched quietly, content to be in the same room.

And in those moments, time felt like it lingered on just for us.That’s what summer evenings are supposed to feel like, I think.Long. Easy. Present.

The Summer I Needed

When I was a kid, summers were sacred. I’d go fishing at dusk or climb trees and pick figs to sell. The heat didn’t bother me. The days felt like they’d never end, and in some small way, I hoped they wouldn’t. This summer brought a taste of that back. Even though I still had to get up for work in the morning, I wasn’t worried. There was no pit in my stomach. No dread about emails or meetings. And I think the reason why is simple: I don’t carry stress around my work anymore.

That change didn’t come easy. But now, after all the shifts in our life over the past few years—including our time in England—my relationship to work and worth feels different. Work no longer owns me. It doesn’t define me. So staying up a little later to finish a video with my kids? Worth it. Even if I wake up a little tired? Still worth it. That kind of peace isn’t flashy. But it’s rare. And I know what it cost to get here.

States of Wonder

One of the most surprising parts of watching this 50-state journey was how often the quiet, rural places stirred something in me. (Montana, Alaska, Colorado.) They were breathtaking in a way I didn’t expect. We’d watch the drone shots and imagine what it might be like to explore those landscapes ourselves. Maybe one day. Maybe never. But for a few minutes, we were there—together. And that’s when something struck me.

While we were watching this couple hop from state to state, I felt a deep connection to their journey—not just as a viewer, but as someone who’s been on a journey. Back when we lived in England, many of our friends, family, and supporters helped us stay afloat financially. They gave sacrificially. Generously. Consistently. And as we sat there on the couch night after night, I found myself wondering:

Is this how they felt?

Did our supporters feel like they were right there with us?

Because watching this couple make their way through every state, I felt with them. Rooting for them. Participating in their story in some small way. And maybe, just maybe, that’s how others felt about us too.

What We Brought Home from the Journey

The series eventually came to an end, like all good things do. But something stuck with us. Maybe it was the routine. Maybe the storytelling. Maybe just the act of sitting shoulder to shoulder, without distraction, and being together.

Now we’ve carried that rhythm into the next season of life. It’s not YouTube anymore. It’s another show, or a simple moment like celebrating the Lord’s Supper as a family, or praying the Lord’s Prayer before bed.

But the heartbeat is the same: We’re building habits that ground us.

And that never used to be our rhythm. Before England, before all the change, I was too bound up in work to notice how little time I was giving to presence. I thought productivity was the goal. I thought exhaustion meant I was doing something right.

Now, I know better. I don’t measure a good day by how much I got done. I measure it by whether I was there for my kids, my wife or myself. So if the days feel a little long, if bedtime gets pushed a little late, and if we sit around the TV imagining what it would be like to spin the Wheel of Doom— that’s fine by me.

I’ll still wake up in the morning and go to work. Even if I’m a little tired, it was worth it. They are worth it. To those who rooted for us while we lived in England: it was worth it. We are a changed family seeking to build God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.