Adventure

Road Trip

A bus seen in San Diego

It’s gone…..and it was hard, and it was easy. Easy because it was time, hard because I know those times won’t be coming again. There are the memories though, lots of them. Those will be there forever, God willing, hidden and vibrant in the core of my being for a long time to come. I don’t have to work too hard to hear those sounds. Feel the excitement of getting ready, packing, shopping. I don’t know about you, but road trips usually mean getting treats you don’t usually allow yourself. For me, it’s Cherry Poptarts, only Cherry, no others will do. When I was a kid, it was Svenhardts packaged rolls and pancakes over the Coleman stove. Man, those were good. As long as I live, I will hear the noises of Lower Pines Campground waking up in Yosemite. The pounding of tent pegs echoing off those sheer granite cliffs. Stellars jays squawking from branch to branch. The promise of coffee which tasted of liquid gold as the finger of light crept over Sierra Point, warming the edge of the meadow.

Road trips are a special kind of magic because you never know what you might see on the road. We’ve rounded a bend on the Oregon coast to see a car overturned with a man standing outside of it scratching his head. A couch in the middle of the road. An elk the size of a small state just about to cross the road. A windshield wiper blowing off with a storm approaching. And you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a thunderstorm rolling across the desert. And all the anticipation of the arrival of your destination in the forefront of your mind.

Many years after the tent camping days of my childhood, the 2004 Fleetwood Flair was purchased. It was a brand-new era. It was more glamping than camping and it was wonderful. All the joy and freedom of camping out with a soft bed and as many shoes and boots as I wanted. Excuse me for a few minutes while I let my mind wander. How can you explain the freedom of hitting the road and finally reaching your destination? Waiting with bated breath as you find out where the camp host has parked you. And then, the setup, which was minimal in the Motorhome, that was the best part. As the camp chairs are finally dragged to the right spot you feel yourself exhale, knowing you’ll be here for a while. Cut off from the cares of jobs, responsibilities, and life. Freedom.

I guess you could say this life is one long road trip, full of good and bad, trial and error, mishaps, mistakes and then finally the times when you coast. Everything going right. You savor those times, and you enjoy the scenery. Maybe you even think about your destination. Not the immediate one, the final one. I think as we get older, we do more thinking along those lines, or maybe we try not to think about it at all. It’s there in the question that frames itself in conversations with others or thoughts before we drift off to sleep. But it’s there just the same.

Jesus had lots to say about our final destinations. Both of them. If you don’t believe in a final destination, you probably don’t think too much about it. As Christian believers, our faith, our life, is centered on the hope that only Jesus has the ticket for our final destination. But even more than a vain hope, it’s a knowledge based on His life, death and resurrection. He’s the One who paid our admission. The only One who can. So, know this:

Life is Good. But life with Jesus the life is everlasting. The most important Road Trip you will ever take.

“The Bus”

A New Chapter

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“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland……” Isaiah 43:19

Just over 10 years ago, lots of people thought we were crazy to buy a manufactured home in a retirement community. But sometimes doing the crazy thing can be right. Living here close to the Superstition mountains gave me an experience I never could have gotten any other way. This place taught me to listen to the desert and what it whispers in the wild. It gave me my blog and it gave a voice to my writing. I will always be grateful for that.

At this phase of life, most people might be easing into retirement. Maybe settling into the home where they will finish out their years on this planet, winding down. We are doing the opposite, uprooting ourselves to start over yet again. Sounds crazy doesn’t it? But I firmly believe that God rewards crazy if the motive is love. In fact, I know He does. I can find example after example in the Bible where God did this.

Not long ago a statement was made to someone else that “People just don’t move back to California!” My answer is the same as his, with an addition “Yes I can, I can do whatever I want to do.” My very important addition to that statement is that I believe in a big God of impossibilities who loves it when we believe Him enough to step out in obedience and do something out of their comfort zone for the right reasons.

And I can’t wait to see what He will do. He has never let us down. He has always provided for our needs, and He isn’t about to stop now.

So today the for sale sign went up. I always wondered how I would feel when it finally happened, but I think I have cried all my tears already. We will leave good friends and great neighbors and how many times can you say that anymore? But I know that God has a great plan and that it is coming together already.

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And we will be back to visit. I never did like goodbyes, in fact, I hate them. I think I am looking forward to Heaven most of all for that reason alone. No more goodbyes….ever.

So as I have said before, this magical place by the mountain has changed me for the good. It’s carved out a place in my heart that will stay. And a Grand adventure awaits. We are going back to where we started, and to family who will love having us there.

I have a good feeling.

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Of leaving home and going home

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Jesus said to him, “The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” Matthew 8:20

Anyone can leave a house, but leaving a home takes grit, guts, determination and the knowledge that you are leaving a place for the right reasons. It’s the kind of soul-searching that doesn’t come easy, kind of like raking a plow over your heart. And even when it’s for good reasons which it is, it’s still tough.

Yesterday we packed the patio and when I saw the umbrella folded up in my car I flashed back to 10 years of morning coffee and watching the sun come up over the Superstition mountains. Ten years of dinners by the fire-pit and hanging out with neighbors on both sides of us. I confess I had to hide behind the corner and cry.

We are leaving a place that’s been really good to us. We’re leaving a community of people; a way of life that’s easy and neighbors who know each other……watch out for one another. How often do you find that anymore? We have 10 years of memories which we will take with us and hold in our hearts forever.

We have seen decline and the death of some of our neighbors too. Living in a retirement community, that comes with the territory. The man who used to be up with the chickens walking his dog and singing loud now hardly leaves his house. They are taking a different kind of leave. Preparing for another kind of exit.

Two cats have gone over the rainbow bridge here, the stray we brought along when we came here, and Sydney who was my baby. His ashes will go along with us and for that I am glad.

But we are on an adventure, friends. And I would like to take you along if you would like to come. This blog has been birthed here over times of prayer in the little shop since 2009. I can hardly believe where the time has gone. And in three weeks I will be back living in the hometown I left in 1992.

This desert is a place I will come back to from time to time, I hope. It’s left its mark and its a good one. It’s carved out a place in my heart that will remain there forever. And I will do my best to keep you all posted here.

Until then, I have packing to do. And to steal a line from one of my favorite poets. Miles to go before I sleep.

 

Thankful

 

 

 

Happy Almost Birthday to my Dad!

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Dad……I know you don’t relish turning 87 and I can hardly believe the number myself.

This is you leading the pack in Yosemite. We always called you the Mountain Goat…….Thank you for handing down to me a wonderful legacy of loving nature and animals and a deep respect for all living things.

I hope the cake got there in one piece, I thought 87 deserved a homemade cake from me however it looks when it gets there.

Thank you for all the laughter we have shared and are still sharing. One of the most important things you and Mom have mastered is to never forget how to laugh no matter what life throws your way.

And it has thrown you quite a bit over the years.

Thank you for all your calls and letters……I always love seeing those white oblong envelopes in the mail. You should have a new book on your Kindle as soon as you can get to the library to download it from it’s place out in the wireless world. It is hovering there waiting for you.

When I saw the title, I couldn’t resist. Please let me know how you like it.

I wish you God’s richest blessings and peace for tomorrow. I will call, because I want to hear your voice on your special day.

I love you……Your daughter.

As always, right behind you on the trail.

Lent Day 19: I could never capture it all……

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How can I ever capture what today was? It was joy, tears, memories, laughter and stories all wrapped up in a wonderful day that I can’t fully capture here. Bobby and I took a walk along the Concho River this morning that runs by the Hotel and got a little snatch of nature while listening to the birds. Elaine, Bobby (Elaine’s brother) and I picked up their cousin Gerry…..after that the laughter just kind of continued throughout the day. I won’t even try to explain it. I don’t think I could fully do it justice, maybe someday I will try for now I am simply played out.

We did end up visiting Mt. Carmel Hermitage Monastery and also Our Lady of Grace Monastery, both courtesy of Gerry Dupree. The day started with own ceremony of bringing Vernon Curtis Dupree back to his homeland and beloved Texas which he loved. It was a privilege to be able to take part in this journey and final stop for him until that final Resurrection Day of the Lord which is our hope.

All in all, it was a day that will live in all of our memories because it was full of some of the very best this life has to offer, a few tears, many memories and much more laughter to hold it all together.

My words are few tonight, I am still full of voices and stories that are far too colorful for me to capture here…………but I leave you with a few words from the vestibule at Our Lady of Grace Monastery:

God of Love, through this Lenten journey, purify my desires to serve you. Free me from an temptations to judge others, to place myself above others. Please let me surrender even my impatience with others, that with your love and your grace, I might be less and less absorbed with myself, and more and more full of the desire to follow you. in laying down my life according to Your purpose.

And thank you Lord, for the dear lady who came graciously out when she saw our car and let me in to see the beautiful church……I felt an immediate kinship.

Thank you Bobby (who walked the stations of the cross with me) and Elaine who drove us miles to get there, and to Gerry for showing us these treasures. I love you all……….

A Perfect Slice of Time

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E. drove furiously into the night as we mapped our way to the exact address of Hotel 1110 on the Pacific coast. We were under the gun. The ad on the internet said the Hotel doors would be locked at 10 and it was fast approaching 9:15 when we finally called to make sure someone would be there to let us in by 9:30. The accented voice on the other line assured us she would be.

I made a couple of mistakes navigating, which made for a few stressful moments, and the first time we drove right past it. We had to drive up quite a few blocks before we were presented with an opportunity for a U turn.

“Is that it?” I said.

“I’m not sure, do you see a place to park?” She asked.

We drove back into a narrow little alley that opened into a few spaces, but we weren’t sure it was the right place so we went back out and found a place on the street. We were beyond ready to settle for the night. Past ready to start a much-needed overdue vacation. Ready to feel once again the healing properties of the ocean.

Despite our initial trepidation at the parking situation, once we entered the foyer of this captivating place, any misgivings we might have had were laid to rest. And when we met the charming innkeeper, who made us feel at home and instantly welcomed we both breathed an inward sigh of relief.

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She checked us in and with a charming Lebanese accent introduced herself as Nashua. Gazing around, already eager to run upstairs and let my camera out of its case, I felt like I had stepped into another era. It was part Victorian, part Bohemian with a splash of old west Bordello thrown in, but very tastefully so. We gratefully accepted our keys and stepped up wonderfully creaky stairs to a hallway that I imagined held hidden passageways and doors that led to secret rooms.

We abandoned the elevator after the first time because it was so slow, but to me that only added to the charm. Our room opened with a real key and once inside, we were greeted by Audrey Hepburn who seemed to approve and who could ever argue with her?

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“This is awesome,” I said, “Just like one of the places in my dreams!” I often dream of old buildings and long passageways and doors that lead to stairs and narrow alleyways. I instantly yielded to the adventure this was turning into.

The windows cranked out revealing a neighboring view you might see in an old Alfred Hitchcock movie. Amidst the late night traffic noise, we heard the unmistakable sigh of the sea and the barking of seals.

Vacation had truly begun.

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Join me tomorrow as I continue our adventure, won’t you?

A Dad’s Memory

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My Dad called. He said, “I wrote it all down, about our adventure of moving to Tahoe and how I remember it.” It came yesterday in the mail, and the pages tumbled out when I tore the envelope. “Do you think you could type it all down since I am not such a good typist?” I want to be able to read it, he said.

And in the writing it, and the reading of it, I knew he was reliving something powerful.

“I will do my best, Dad,” I said. And it’s an honor. When someone has put their heart on a page, you have to be careful with it. It’s something almost sacred that they are trusting you with, not just words on a page. I will keep the handwritten version for myself and I will save the other version on my computer, the one I will type neatly with no lines crossed out. No bold underlines. I will try to put the feeling in it, just the way he felt it.

I will do my best to bring it to life as he lived it.

Because our stories, our memories, is what we have. In sharing those, we open ourselves, our hearts to each other.

And it’s always a risk.

Because there is always the chance they won’t see it or feel it the way we intended. And that’s okay. We still have to share it.

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As I picked up the pages again, I saw the way he wrote and I thought of how someday he won’t be here. Even now, I squeeze my eyes shut to keep tears from leaking out because I know it’s true. Someday the letters will stop. And I will imagine him sitting in a corner spot of light in Heaven with a big feather quilled pen. Writing his thoughts of all the beauty he sees, and meeting Jesus for the first time.

I have words in my treasure box, so many words gathered over the years. Sacred ones. The lid no longer shuts, but I slide them in anyway.

Because words from someone you love are always sacred.

I will do my best, Dad with your memory. Here is my only memory of it. I remember standing in something I now know was snow and crying because I didn’t like the cold.

And someone, probably you, sticking a ski pole in a snow bank so I could see the holes it made.

That’s it.

I think maybe you can fill the blanks in my mind, since I was only 2.

We will relive it together and then it will be ours to share.

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