The Theory of Roaming
We Are Not Called to Comfort. We Are Called to Faith.
When I first started this blog, I thought I was chasing the dream of being “just another travel blogger.” Beautiful photos. Itineraries. Affiliate links. Maybe a little extra income on the side. But something shifted. Travel stopped being about checking countries off a list. The real beauty was never the perfect beach or the polished itinerary. It was the climb that left my legs shaking. The cold nights. The doubt. The moments when I felt small enough to finally surrender. That’s where my faith deepened.
For a long time, I believed following Christ meant fitting into a narrow mold — quiet, predictable, safe. As a Catholic, that expectation felt heavy. But I’ve come to see something different: faith isn’t meant to shrink us. It’s meant to refine us. The disciples were tested repeatedly. They failed. They doubted. They were hardened and stretched — and through that process, they became unshakable. I don’t believe we are called to comfort. I believe we are called to growth.
Theory of Roaming is built on that conviction: that adventure, suffering, and surrender are not distractions from faith — they are often the very tools God uses to strengthen it. If you love Christ but also crave the wild, the hard, and the stretching — you are not misplaced. You are being formed.
Obsession
A photo, a story, or a video are often how I become obsessed with the adventures we take on. There are many things I pass by every day that don’t interest me, but then there are others that get stuck in my head no matter how much time passes. My sister mentioning doing a loop with four 14ers together, seeing a photo of an ice dive, or watching a video in a Facebook group of a funny little squid were some of the obsessions that brought us on incredible adventures.
Preparation
While many strongly dislike this part, there is always a point I reach that feels calming. The preparation before something hard can feel jittery, exciting, or nervous, but there is a certain routine — cleaning lenses, preparing my underwater camera, checking scuba equipment — that makes me feel grounded, calm, and ready.
Suffering
This is always the point you reach during the adventure where you wonder why you do this and what the point of it is. It’s when you promise yourself you won’t do something like this again. It’s the point before you go numb and just keep chugging, or when the nerves skyrocket. It’s when things get hard, cold, or scary — the point of bargaining, praying, or sometimes just straight misery.
Awe
This one is different. Sometimes it happens in the moment — reaching the summit, seeing a spectacular sunrise, or in the middle of a dive. Other times it happens at the end, when you’re sipping hot chocolate across from your sister saying, “We are not doing that again.” This is where it starts to come together. Maybe the adventure wasn’t the awe — maybe it was the people around you or the memories you carry from it.
Meaning
Meaning usually comes later, in hindsight. When I drop my bags after walking into the house and look around at my warm home with a sigh, feeling rejuvenated and ready to get back to work. It’s often the next morning, with a warm cup of coffee and time to really think, that I begin to reflect on the chaos and what I’m carrying with me from it.