My Kind of Saturday Night: Faith, Family, and the Songs That Carry Us Home

There are nights you plan…

And then there are nights that feel like they were written for you long before you ever bought the tickets.

This was one of those nights.

It started the way all the best stories do—

with Ema leading the charge.

Months ago, she had us ready.

Logged in.

Waiting.

Refreshing.

The second those Luke Combs tickets dropped, she made sure we didn’t miss it.

At the time, it felt like just another thing on a very full calendar.

But now I see it for what it really was—

A gift.

A reset.

A reminder.

The Crew That Makes the Night

It wasn’t just our family.

It was Ema and her three best friends.

Elie and her best friend Annabelle.

Me. Brooks. Eva. Nick.

The whole bus.

The right people.

The ones who sing loud, laugh harder, and show up fully—no filters, no conditions.

And then… there’s Nick.

Now, let’s be honest—this isn’t usually his thing.

He’s not the one planning outfits or leaning all the way into the “theme” of a concert weekend.

But this time?

He did.

And I think it’s because he knew how much it meant to me…

how long it had been since we’d done something like this together…

how much I needed a night like this in the middle of everything.

So he looks at all of us and says:

“We’re going camo.”

Full commitment.

And honestly?

I loved it more than I can explain.

Not just because it was fun…

But because it was him choosing to step into our kind of joy—with us.

Brooks’ First Concert

There’s something sacred about a first.

Watching Brooks walk into that stadium…

eyes wide, bursting with energy, charging his way towards the stadium, exuding with excitement!

feeling the music before he even understood it…

I saw it.

That spark.

The same one I felt in 7th grade at my very first concert—

The Dixie Chicks in Milwaukee.

The same one I felt when Nick took me to Rascal Flatts for my 21st birthday.

The same one from all those summers chasing Phil Vassar concerts with my family.

It’s not just music.

It’s memory.

It’s identity.

It’s soul.

And watching that come alive in your kids?

That’s a full-circle kind of joy.

“My Kind of Saturday Night”

When Luke started singing…

It was like every lyric found its way into our little corner of the world.

Kids dancing.

Arms around each other.

Voices cheering.

And I just stood there for a second and thought:

This is it.

Not the chaos.

Not the stress.

Not the floods or the move or the million moving pieces of this season.

This.

Faith.

Family.

Friends who feel like family.

Music that reminds you who you are.

Because We Know the Other Side

What made this night hit deeper…

Is that we’ve lived the opposite.

We’ve stood in rooms that felt like foundation—

and watched them crack.

We’ve believed in circles—

and felt them shift.

We’ve trusted what looked like legacy—

and learned not all of it was built to last.

But here’s what I felt standing there Saturday night—

God doesn’t just remove things.

He replaces them.

With what’s real.

With what’s aligned.

With what actually reflects your values.

Refueled — And Remembering What We Believe

And maybe the best part?

Just yesterday…

my phone buzzes.

It’s Pitz (Michelle Pitzl), my best friend and college roommate from Marquette.

Our group text.

The same college crew we’ll be with this summer at home seeing Russell Dickerson in Milwaukee together…

celebrating her birthday, just like we’ve celebrated every season of life together since Marquette University.

She sends a Russell Dickerson song: I Still Believe.

And as I listen, it hits me—

this is exactly it.

This is exactly what I still believe — in its lyrics:

That the best kind of road…

is the one without lines or a name.

That the best friends?

They’re the old ones. The forever ones.

That the best nights?

They’re not complicated.

They’re right now.

Right here.

Arms around your people.

Voices a little off-key.

Hearts completely full.

That rich doesn’t mean money.

It means this.

And maybe the line that stayed with me most—

I still believe in the prayers that I pray.

I still believe in John 3:16.

I still believe in a love that lasts.

The Road That Leads You Home

And maybe that’s why this night felt bigger than just a concert.

Because it’s part of something else.

It’s part of the road that’s leading us home.

This June.

Back north.

Back to Wisconsin.

Back to the places—and the people—who shaped us.

Not because Ohio didn’t matter.

But because the journey here showed us something clearly:

We know who shows up for us.

And the gift?

Our kids know it too.

They have it in both places.

Lifelong friends from Ohio—

the kind who sing beside you at concerts and stand beside you in life.

And waiting for them in Wisconsin—

Family.

Legacy.

Loyalty.

The kind of friendships that don’t fade with distance or time.

The Kind of Night You Carry With You

Driving home, kids half-asleep, voices gone…

I realized something:

We didn’t just go to a concert.

We reclaimed something.

Joy.

Connection.

Belonging.

The kind that doesn’t depend on circumstance.

The kind that doesn’t shift when things get hard.

The kind that God quietly rebuilds for you…

when you trust Him enough to let go of what wasn’t meant to last.

Final Thought

“My kind of Saturday night” isn’t about the music.

It’s about who’s standing next to you when it plays.

And what you still believe when the lights go down.

And for me?

I still believe…

The best friends are old.

The best nights are now.

And the road—no matter how winding—

always leads you home.

Faith-filled.

Family-first.

Loyal to the core.

And surrounded—always—by angels.

And it's these angels, a My Kind of Saturday Night concert & a song like Luke Combs' Plant the Seed will always be my quiet reminder in the middle of all the noise…

to not blink.

To soak it all up…

because before you know it, you turn around and wonder where the time went.

That this season—

as full and messy and beautiful as it is—

isn’t something to rush through.

It’s something to plant into.

Because at the end of the day…

it’s not about controlling the outcome.

It’s about showing up.

Loving your people well.

Filling your heart—and theirs—with something that lasts.

And trusting what we can’t see yet.

Like the song says—

you plant the seed anyway.

You trust the timing.

You trust the growth.

You trust the light.

And you thank the Man upstairs…

that you got to be there for it.

To plant it.

To watch it grow.

To live it—together.

Plant a Seed

Song by Luke Combs ‧ 2024

He said, "Don't you blink"

Soak it up 'cause next thing

You know, you turn around and wonder where your whole life's gone

Remember it's about the journey

Don't fill your days with worry

Sure, them youngins drive you crazy but you'll miss 'em when they're grown

Oh-oh-oh, time ain't always your friend

It starts slow and gets faster towards the end

So fill up your heart with love, pass it on before you go

And thank the man upstairs that you were there to plant a seed and watch it grow

True love and the gospel

Might take a while to blossom

But you dig down in that garden and you plant 'em anyways

Just let God be the farmer, He's got the sun and water

It's up to him to let 'em bloom

And let 'em see the light of day

Oh-oh-oh, time ain't always your friend

It starts slow and gets faster towards the end

So fill up your heart with love, pass it on before you go

And thank the man upstairs that you were there to plant a seed and watch it grow

Oh-oh-oh, time ain't always your friend

It starts slow and gets faster towards the end

So fill up your heart with love, pass it on before you go

And thank the man upstairs that you were there to plant a seed and watch it grow