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Lessons from the Road

Our family of six embarked on an epic (yes, I believe I CAN use that word!) 7000-mile road trip/vacation this summer, traveling from Alabama to Washington state, taking the southern route through Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico and Arizona then making our way north through California  and Oregon.  I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic just remembering all the hours in the car…!

Dauma Family Road Trip 2015 Santa Fe ~ Grand Canyon ~ Beaumont/Los Angeles, CA ~ Yosemite ~ San Francisco ~ Portland/Vancouver ~ Soap Lake, WA ~ Seattle

 

Although tempted to write a journal-type blog entry outlining our adventures, I kept returning to the idea of the road itself and how the miles that we put on the car and the things we encountered on the road mirror a few things about this other journey we are all on – the one we call life.

I could have titled this blog post “The Chronicles of Stinky Feet” or “The iPad Password Mystery.” Let me tell you, traveling with four kids for thousands of miles is not for the faint of heart. For the love of Febreze and Steve Jobs.

Also, just for fun, I’ve included some cheesy “road song” lyrics for your humming pleasure.

Lesson #1:

The best laid plans DO often go awry.

Well, for all the planners in the room, this one is what we call a “no brainer.” The packing, the Google-mapping, the Urbanspoon searching, the online hotel bidding – all the plans. Yep, those plans.  The good ones, the mediocre ones, the best ones.  Or, the ones that never get made because someone (your husband) wants the trip to be “more flexible.” Whatever. You all know how those days turned out. Sheesh.

My first meltdown (it was minor) was at 9:30 PM on day six, when we pulled up to the cabin we’d rented just outside the entrance to Yosemite and realized that the owners had never texted us with the security code. And we had no cell signal. We drove a bit and got a signal, but they didn’t reply to our texts or calls. So after an hour, we said goodbye to our perfect little cabin – complete with a bear carved from a tree on the front porch – and headed to the nearest town with a hotel room that would fit our family of six.  Rather than a lovely evening in a rustic cabin, listening to the whisper of the pines, we unloaded at midnight in a rundown motel (thank you Jesus for disinfecting wipes) with a scintillating view of a truck stop. However, despite the disappointment and anger (mostly at myself for not taking care of the necessary details), our drive to the motel included a glorious view of a full moon over the treetops. A bit of grace to edge out the crazy.

     The final hours of our trip brought the most dramatic derailing moment, however. Because somehow, some way, two reasonably intelligent adults failed to realize the EXACT date of the return flight home for the kids and me.  (My husband and his buddy were continuing the road-trip madness by driving our SUV home over the weekend while we flew home – how THAT plan came to be is a whole ‘nother story…!). A few hours before our friend was to drive us to the airport, and in a moment that caused me to literally lose my breath, I realized our mistake. Our flight had already flown. We were in Seattle, with the clothes on our backs, with no plane tickets and a maxed-out credit card. The trip was already about $1000 over budget (Because kids. And Disney.) Yeah, it was not pretty.

     My friend calmed me down to semi-manic, and she called her hubby (who was in the car with Anthony somewhere in Montana) who told him what I had discovered. Good golly, Molly. For an hour, we prayed, I cried, we searched online ticket hubs, and at the end of the day, Anthony’s calm plea to Delta resulted in them getting us on the same red-eye flight as the previous morning. For no charge.  Zero, zip, nada. It was a July miracle! In the security line at Sea-Tac airport a few hours later, another mom snapped this pic of us and said “Say ‘red-eye’!” as we grinned. I wanted to say, “Lady, you have NO idea how happy I am to be getting on this plane!” I cried tears of exhaustion and joy as I buckled myself into that dinky seat and looked around to find the kids (we were scattered throughout the plane) and breathed one of the most sincere prayers of thanks I have prayed in a long time.
   So, this lesson features the immortal words of the Scottish poet Robert Burns and reminds me that we as human beings (and careful trip planners) can plan all day long, but sometimes those plans are just not going to work out. And usually, it all turns out okay. There is certainly nothing essentially wrong with having a solid plan in place – for a vacation or for, oh, life. However, as is asked in the book of Luke: “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” The perfect itinerary or a list of perfect photo ops – or a timeline for marriage and kids or a promotion – is just a setup for the disappointment that accompanies unmet expectations.  I do not claim to have figured out the ideal balance between structure and flexibly, but I do know that it’s a worthwhile goal!
“Goin’ places that I’ve never been.
Seein’ things that I may never see again
And I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Lesson #2:  

Sometimes the view is boring and your progress is slow.

     Just a few things that can get in the way when you are trying to get to your next stop or take a lovely photo out the window: fog, cyclists, slow drivers… Arizona? Yeah, “harsh beauty” is a lovely oxymoronic description, but that harshness looks maddeningly similar for about 200 miles of I-40. 

   I’m an impatient driver. I am not proud of it, but it is what it is. I want to “move on down the road” and get very frustrated at those who seem to just be leisurely poking along at whatever speed floats their boat at the moment. And of course, when those folks come along, there are of course NO passing zones in sight…! Construction projects were thankfully few and far between on this trip, but still caused maddening delays.
People and things get in the way. And sometimes the chance to make that photo never recurs.  Missed opportunities, especially those caused by someone else’s actions, cause a burning anger down in my soul.  I am not exaggerating. But regardless, sometimes the dream of watching the sun set over the Pacific is foiled by fog that will. not. go. away. And there is nothing – not a darn thing – you can do to change that. Sometimes the view out the window seemed to never change. Some of the miles were monotonous and sometimes the roadside views were downright ugly.

    Sometimes the roads of life that we travel are like that. And yet, we still can keep going – one moment/hour/day at a time, even amidst regret, repetitiveness, and rancor. And even when the road is cluttered with slowpokes, the majestic mountain can suddenly rise in front of you and somehow the altered arrival time on the GPS doesn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

“The road is long.
There are mountains in our way,
But we climb a step every day.”

Lesson #3:

You will encounter things and people you do not expect.

     From the Mad Hatter and Alice in “Tomorrowland” to the Wigwam Motel to a dead end street at a time when we most definitely were not expecting one, our trip was filled with surprises.

     Sometimes the surprises were breathtaking, like the rock formation we made a U-turn (twice!) to see and photograph at Yosemite; sometimes they were annoying, like the slow-moving pedestrian in a coastal California town we were trying to navigate quickly. Sometimes they were just downright weird. Like this Santa who was hanging out at a boat ramp on the Columbia River… What the what?!?!

     In this age of review-saturated social media, travelers really do not have to deal with too many surprises. If you want to see the menu of an out-of-the-way diner on Route 66, you can probably pull it up on your phone from 5 – or 500 – miles away and have your order ready when you walk in the door. If you want to plan your day at Disneyland down to the minute, you can read the advice of thousands of Disney fans letting you know how to best do that. Folks are used to knowing what to expect before we experience something. And there is nothing wrong with that, really.  I’m thankful for restaurant reviews and love finding out-of-the-way spots to dine (my rule: no chain restaurants when we travel!) that can hopefully satisfy every member of the family.

     However, sometimes I think we are missing some of the journey’s joy. I know I’m romanticizing the era, but I think about how jaw-droppingly amazing it must have been for early residents and explorers of the American southwest to stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon for the first time, or for the pioneers to walk into the Willamette Valley, having never seen photos of the sights before them.
  One of the most eerie, yet incredible moments on the trip was when we were on a boat cruising San Francisco Bay. Although mid-afternoon, fog had rolled in and we couldn’t see the Golden Gate Bridge until we were right underneath it!  This marvel of engineering and artistry was right in front of us for several minutes and we had no idea it was there because the fog was too thick.
How often we wish for the known, the tried and true, the guarantee of success or satisfaction, yet so often it is the unknown that brings us to the “wow” moments in life. The instances that bring us to our knees in gratefulness and even worship are often the ones that completely take us by surprise.  Although there is nothing wrong with having a “Consumer Reports” mentality as we make decisions in life, sometimes even when we THINK we know what we are getting into, the reality ends up being different. For me, this is a chance to demonstrate that I have faith in my Father who knows me, who “knit me in my mother’s womb.” Do I trust him only in the familiar? Or do I demonstrate a childlike faith, understanding that He loves me and wants what is best for me, surprises and all!
“Back to the howling owl in the woods, 
Hunting the horny-back toad, 
Oh, I’ve finally decided my future lies
Beyond the yellow brick road.”
 

Lesson #4:  

The edges can be scary. 

     I am a bit of a scaredy-cat when it comes to heights.  Therefore, I can assure you that I was NOT in close proximity to my children when they made these crazy-people pictures at the Grand Canyon. In fact, my heart was pounding even though I was many yards away when I made the picture of Alec and Adrienne (red shirt and green shirt) standing on the promontory before they made said pictures. And don’t even get me started on Turner grabbing the camera and RUNNING around the barricades so he could make pictures of his legs dangling over the side.  I could not breathe. Bless his heart. It’s a good thing I love him because Lord knows he has aged me.
     Although not as drastic, I have a significant physical reaction to even driving near the edges of roads that hug cliffs or hint at coming dropoffs. And if there is little or no barrier between the roadway and the cliff? Yeah, eyes are definitely closed. Well, mostly.  I WANT to be brave, so I try to snap some pictures and breathe (in through the nose, out through the mouth) so I can maintain a facade of bravery.
“Goin’ back to the well, gonna visit old friends
And feed my soul where the blacktop ends.”
    The fact is, life at the edges is a bit dangerous. Beginnings and ends of things are scary. And not just in the physical or tangible ways that typify overprotective moms (which I really am not . . . I didn’t stop my children from doing MOST of the risky things they wanted to do, I just didn’t want to watch!). The edge of newness is scary.  The edge of the familiar is frightening. The edge of “civilized” seems so risky.
Yet as we move toward the edges – perhaps even ON the sharpest of those edges – we feel alive and alert! We have to rely on something other than our prior experiences that brought either comfort or pain and so taught us well.
    We are in awe of the beauty of the edges on this earth. Cliffs and beaches… edges… provide some of the most glorious and breathtaking views of this planet we inhabit.
Therefore, it’s no surprise that some choose to – and perhaps we all should strive to –  risk the comfort of the middle for the reward of life on the beautiful edges.
Perhaps we should move more toward the scary edges in our everyday lives, not just in our photo ops.

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July 24, 2015 · 4:51 am
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The Fair and the Foul

 
These six words – “Fair is foul, and foul is fair” – from the first scene of Shakespeare’s Macbeth are an English teacher’s dream, embodying no fewer than four literary devices! Perhaps more important than providing fodder for the perfect test question is the fact that this one line summarizes what could be considered one of the main themes of this disturbing drama:  things are not always what they seem.

As the lazy days of summer come to an end for me as a teacher, this idea has become clear to me lately through some unlikely circumstances. The concept of dichotomy has shaken me to the core as I’ve considered things that can be both good and bad.  Much great literature – and so many amazing true stories – are great because of the tragic beauty that is only revealed when the good and bad are juxtaposed. The hero that wouldn’t be quite as heroic if it weren’t for the villain. The wedding wouldn’t be as romantic if it weren’t for the pre-wedding angst experienced by the bride and groom. I try to explain this to my students when they want to know why we can’t just read “happy stories.” (Whatever that means…)
So, in keeping with the Bard’s theme (one also presented by many other great writers, including the greatest Writer of them all), here are a few of my reflections on things that are both “fair” and “foul.”

RAIN 

We’ve had a rainy summer in Alabama this year. This definitely has its pros and cons! I love the (safe, dry) feeling of being inside on a rainy afternoon with nowhere to go – the air conditioner running, the air outside displaying a greenish tint, tree branches bowed with water hitting the front porch roof, sodden crepe myrtle blossoms fluttering to the patio. Those moments mean there is no pressure to take anyone to the pool or park or to work in the yard and a feeling of safety and comfort pervades as the thunder rumbles in the distance. If the rain continues on through the night, sleep is blissful.
However, being out and getting caught in that same rainstorm is a whole ‘nother story (as we say in the south)! Depending on the age of any accompanying children, possession of rain gear, the severity of the rainstorm and the location at which we are caught unaware, momentary – or even sustained – chaos can definitely accompany the rain, not to mention muddy floors, and in our case (because our basement sometimes leaks during torrential downpours), an evening of wet-vac fun! On a more global scale, rainstorms can be catastrophic as opposed to just inconvenient, bringing floods and deadly lightning strikes, ruining crops, or causing mudslides.
So we take the good and the bad of the rain. The ruination and the rainbows. “[R]ain falls on the just and the unjust”  (Matthew 5:45). Literally and metaphorically, this truth is displayed. As residents of planet earth, we must have actual rain in order for our lives to be sustained. But sometimes the rain comes at the most inopportune times (wedding days, photo shoots, outdoor barbecues, beach outings). We must have it.  Across the globe, it is both prayed for and desperately prayed against. Similarly, we also need the metaphorical rain in order to most fully enjoy the sunshiny, rainbow moments.

STUFF


Yes, I know my super-informative heading may overwhelm with its philosophical depth (sarcasm font needed here)  . . . but I believe that we can all agree that the “things” of this world can be mixed blessings. As middle-class Americans, we set our goals and get our diplomas and do our “thing” so we can buy the next “thing.” And some of those things are great. I sure am thankful for my electric appliances and comfy mattress and cell phone. In the summer in Alabama, I am especially grateful for air conditioning! There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting our child to have nice clothes, a snazzy bike, or an X-box; or for moms to want some lovely-smelling lotion, a stand mixer, or a new pair of earrings.
 
What trips us up sometimes is the striving for the newer, the better, the faster, and the containers to put them in (jewelry armoire, anyone?) and the (low-key) worrying about what color we should paint the walls that the containers are pushed up against.  We are so proud of the curtains and bedspreads and tchotchkes and garages and condos and houses that have more bathrooms than residents and we spend much time decorating, rearranging, and cleaning all of them. Interestingly, the current “simplify” movement seems to be a backlash against all this stuff, with people purging their homes of hundreds of items so that there is not so much to clean and organize and move from place to place. I think there is wisdom in this. Sometimes stuff is comforting, though. Grandma’s china evokes good memories. Full bookshelves impart knowledge and provide an entertaining escape. Toys occupy energetic hands and stimulate growing brains. So much balance is needed on this one because the good and the bad of stuff is almost a daily challenge. As a die-hard yard sale and thrift store shopper, I have to hold myself to the “one bag out for every bag in” rule or else we’d be overrun!
Stuff that can seem innocuous can become an infestation that destroys and causes us to chase after a substitute comfort that will never truly satisfy. Without moral boundaries (or with a willingness to ignore them), the innocuous can become horrible. Lady Macbeth thought that once her husband succumbed to his ambition, all would be well, but of course, it was not. The ambition fueled selfishness which fueled more horrible deeds, and she herself concluded that “nought’s had, all’s spent, […] our desire is got without content.” All she and the king had left was overwhelming guilt and regret, even among all the riches in Scotland. Every time I teach this play, my students discuss the concept of “going after your dreams” and what they are willing to give up to get what they think they want. That discussion always makes me think about my stuff and the contrast of blessing and curse that it can bring. And I try to remember those lessons, although I certainly succumb to the striving more often than not.

LOSS

Divorce. Death. Adultery. Broken friendships. The death of a dream. Debilitating sickness. Dishonesty. Unemployment. Crushing debt. Rebellion.
Bad, bad, and more bad, right?  On the outset, yes. In our human eyes and hearts, absolutely. But the more I experience these or witness others do so, the more I learn that a grace-and-gospel viewpoint concerning loss is the one that I must consider, elusive as it may be. And I must admit that sometimes this seems humanly impossible and I only see “in a mirror darkly” and always will.
So what’s the upside of loss?  Sometimes we can see it. The loss of one job can eventually lead to a better job. A rebellious teen can drive parents to their knees and eventually result in a beautiful reconciliation (even years later). But sometimes we cannot see the upside. We just can’t. And that can frustrate and destroy faith and cause bitterness. I am there more often than I want to admit and it is not a pretty place.
In 1984, my paternal grandfather was killed under horrific circumstances due to his own sin. My family was devastated. I was confused and sad and embarrassed and worried that I’d get kicked off the cheerleading squad or be otherwise ostracized due to small-town gossip and prejudices. At fourteen, I couldn’t see God’s hand in this story at all – not in my father’s anger or in my grandmother’s loss or in my disillusionment. And at forty-four, I sometimes still find it hard to see. But his hand is there. It has helped me eventually understand that grace is not found in a “good family name” or in being a member “in good standing” of a local church. For a while, because of my grandfather’s sin, I felt that God’s hand on me meant avoiding a long list of supposedly corrupting activities and subsequently judging those who didn’t avoid them. That was the path of holiness he wanted, right? Perhaps in some circumstances. But I was on that path for the wrong reasons.
More recently, I have experienced the loss of some precious summer days due to sickness (not debilitating, but definitely inconvenient and frustrating), as well as the death of a couple of dreams I’ve held onto. I do not yet see how God is going to redeem these losses, but I must hold tight to his promise that he will. I have to.
Otherwise, all I have to depend on is my own human understanding and that gets me nowhere fast. God knows this and he loves me anyway.  He watches my striving and my sullenness and my silly complaining and he draws me closer and calls me Daughter and he tells me to be still.
And that is the beauty of loss – all we can gain when strivings cease. When worldly pleasures – even the American-dream-wrapped ones – are forsaken. When our finagling stops and our resting in his provision begins. Grace is greater than we can even imagine. We only see a tiny corner of it and still declare it amazing.
The fact that grace is needed is a bad thing. That it exists and is extended to all who believe in Jesus’ redemptive work is the best thing. Grace is the ultimate dichotomy, requiring the ugly to show its infinite beauty.

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July 24, 2014 · 4:24 pm