Yearly Archives: 2011

Traveling Alone

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Taking a road trip shakes up our routines, and every once in a while that’s good. I think part of the reason I’m happy staying home is that efficient packing demands organizational abilities I don’t have. This skill-set is one of many I miss in not having Nate as my traveling partner, but traveling alone is my new normal.

Years ago, I had all I could do to pack for the kids and myself, and Nate usually lightened my load by packing his own bag, a job he did in five minutes. He was a champion at remembering to take everything he needed, including work assignments, legal documents and phone numbers. I never heard him say, “Oh-oh. I forgot something.” I said it so many times he got used to saying, “We’ll just have to buy another one when we get there.”

Something else I loved about Nate as my travel partner was his willingness to chat. No subject was off limits, and as the miles accumulated, we solved problems and made plans. He was also good at map-reading, but if we did get lost, he wasn’t above stopping to ask for driving directions. (No GPS’s back then.)

Another perk of traveling with Nate was his willingness to do all the driving. I could enjoy the beauty of farms and small towns, always fascinating. Being in the passenger seat also let me catch up on reading, knitting, note-writing or putting photos into albums. It amounted to a chunk of sit-down time that was hard to come by at home.

On recent road trips including my current one, I’ve been the one behind the wheel. As an antidote to missing Nate’s companionship (and packing, conversation and driving), I’ve tried to count my trip-blessings and have discovered a few perks in having to travel alone. I can have prayer times “out loud” without interruptions or embarrassment. I can skip traditional meal stops and be munching every hour. I can listen to music, sermons or silence, my choice. I can stop only when I need a break rather than any more or any less.

And although Nate isn’t seated next to me, my buddy Jack rides in the back seat, a warm body to talk to now and then. I’ve also had a strong sense of God’s travel partnership, taking him at his word when he says “I’m never going to leave you.” Though invisible, he’s always on hand, surrounding me with reassurance and providing the confidence to keep moving forward.

Of course I wish Nate was with me, too, but that option isn’t available. So the best choice is to receive what I’ve been given and not ask for more: a week with family members in Florida, a loyal canine friend who’s tagging along, the Lord’s faithful companionship and… a unique chance to race against the numbers on a GPS.

“Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.” (Jeremiah 17:7)

 

Travel Time, Part II

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After entering an automatic car wash with a car carrier strapped atop our van, the kids and I didn’t understand Nate’s stunned expression when he saw us come out. “What happened to the carrier?” he said, alarm in his voice.

When I looked up and saw it was gone, I knew where it had to be. All of us looked back into the car wash and sure enough. There it was, in two mangled pieces, completely empty. Its contents were scattered on the car wash floor, including the contents of several suitcases that had torn open. Wet carpet strips gently dripped suds over the whole mess like salad dressing over lettuce.

Since I was unable to put a sentence together, Nate spoke first. Passing up a choice opportunity to accuse the guilty, he said, “It’s as much my fault as yours. I should have stopped you from doing it in the first place but wasn’t thinking.”

 And it was my turn to be stunned.

Whether Nate knew it or not, he had modeled God’s love that day. He stood in front of me and took the blame for something that was clearly my fault, which translated to, “I love you anyway.”

When he refused to blame me, I instantly escaped everything that usually accompanies being blamed: judgmental words, embarrassment, a lecture. Although I deserved those things, because of his kind response, it all went away.

This wasn’t the first irresponsible act I’d committed, nor the last. All of us repeatedly goof up now and then, and when we do, we should willingly take the blame. Every mess is somebody’s fault.

God is the only one who’s never made a mess, goofed up or acted irresponsibly. He is never to blame… well… except for once. It happened when Jesus hung on the cross in anguish, voluntarily taking the blame for all our sins.

On that dreadful day he paid the price for every wrong deed we’ve ever done, every wrong thought we’ve ever had. Though we ought never to blame Divine Perfection for the messes we make, Jesus Christ accepted blame for them all. And what we hear him say through this incredible sacrifice is, “I love you anyway.”

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At a car wash half way between Illinois and Florida, we gathered up our soaked belongings and loaded them into the van, which put us back to square one on over-packing. Nate asked permission of the gas station manager to leave our trashed car carrier next to his dumpster, and we were on our way.

Although there were material losses that day, there was one phenomenal gain for the kids and I: an unforgettable demonstration of godly love.

“God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Where sin increased, grace increased all the more.” (Romans 5:8,20)

Travel Time, Part I

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Although Nate always dreamed of having the freedom for extensive travel, I’ve always been happiest at home. When the two of us would go away, he couldn’t squeeze in enough sight-seeing, but walking back through our own front door was always the highlight for me.

Now, however, I have grandbabies. Although I’m getting “up there” in years and going away offers its inconveniences, spending time with these little ones has brought a new dimension to travel. Today Jack and I are on the road, headed south to meet up with two year old Skylar, one year old Micah, their parents, others of my children and all of my sister’s family. We’ve rented a couple of condos in the Florida Gulf.

My travel buddy, Jack, rides like royalty sprawled out on the back seat as we clock our 1425 miles together, visiting friends along the way. Our mostly-empty vehicle reminds me of many a crowded car trip with children jockeying for their fair share of space. Without the benefit of seat belts or car seats in the early years, personal boundaries were loosey-goosey and hard to define.

Just like every family, we always over-packed, pulling out of the driveway loaded to the ceiling. Then car-top carriers were invented, and we bought a tan plastic model from Sears that could have doubled as a giant McDonald’s burger box. It didn’t do much for the wind-flow around our station wagon but held seven full-size suitcases. Although it was a beast to load and unload, it cut down on passenger over-crowding and, by that, on parental insanity.

Driving from Chicago to Florida in March is to travel through three seasons in two days. But when northerners glimpse that first palm tree, it’s like walking out of a blizzard and into a botanical garden show. Winter ends and flip-flop season begins.

One of our many family drives to Florida was particularly memorable. We’d purchased our first mini-van and were excited to break it in together. The car-top burger-box was old and worn by this time but still worked well. As usual, it was crammed full of both soft and hard suitcases.

Half way to Florida we were gassing up and buying candy bars when I noticed a sign for a $2 sit-in-the-car wash. Since we’d started our journey on Chicago’s snowy, salty roads, the new van looked old, and none of us liked that. So as Nate walked into the gas station to pay, I said, “We’re gonna go through the car wash!”

Forgetting all about our carrier, the kids and I sat up straight while the automatic treads pulled us into the tunnel. Massive brushes and thick carpet strips quickly smothered us in bubbles.

Suddenly there was a tug on the van, followed by a mysterious racket behind us as the carrier straps snapped and the car wash brushes knocked our box off. Because of all the suds, though, we were oblivious.

At the end of the wash, our clean van sat sparkling in the sun just in time for Nate to see it as he came from the mini-mart holding a coffee in each hand. I was smiling, but he was not. “What happened to the carrier?” he said, looking at our rooftop.

[…to be continued]

“Don’t begin until you count the cost.” (Luke 14:28)