Sabbatical Day 9

If you've missed a few posts, Jason and I drug a camper trailer to the San Juan mountains. We're camping in the Rio Grande National Forest in Colorado. Our church has so graciously provided us with some sabbath time. This post shares a day in our journey. 

I don't think scripture is referring to Road 502 when it encourages the narrow road. It should have been a clue not to take it when two cars in front of us turned on to it, only to quickly turn around and go the other way. 

We had a map where a ranger had circled roads (with an orange highlighter) that would provide a free scenic adventure. Road 502 was one of them. He told us that we'd see elk if we stopped the car every few minutes and sat still.

Disclaimer: Jason's version of the story might be the tiniest bit different. I'm glad he was driving. 

 All I saw were steepening cliffs, and then the console and floorboard as I'd become determined that was a much safer view. 

Near the top of the mountain our map showed another orange circle designating we stop, unless we had 4W drive. We were left with two equally frightening choices (in my opinion). 

We could turn around, where there was no room to turn around...on a mountaintop...and go back down possibly meeting up with someone following up behind us. Terrible idea. This was not a two-lane rocky dirt road. 

Or...we could bypass the orange circle,  going down the 4W drive part of the road bring that we did have 4W drive.  I tried to warn Jason that the orange stop circle on the map and those symbols 4W (whether we had it or not) translated DANGER, but he didn't listen. 

Past the orange "stop sign" he began carefully maneuvering a series of switchbacks. I'd only heard the word switchback in one other situation; in putt-putt. Switchback Mountain was the hardest hole in the game when we'd play putt-putt at Fun Valley growing up. It had to have been named after road 502. 

I wanted so badly to take pictures of the road so you'd know, that this time I'm not exaggerating. But all I could do, for each fifty yards that we were still alive, was clutch the handle on my door (as if that helped) and cling to my faith that God would hear my prayers to get us off that mountain in one piece. 

...Now I know how Jonah must have felt when he was spit out on the ground. 

Regretful for the path he'd taken.

Relieved...Grateful. 

We were almost to the bottom of the mountain when we came upon a ghost/mining town. It was one of the most mesmerizing things I'd ever seen. I won't try to describe it. Here you go. 

We drove away with souvenirs that we didn't have to buy; ones that we gained from the experience...Lessons.

• Believe the map. 
• In troubled times pay attention to what you're holding on to.
• The "good stuff" isn't always at the mountain top. The "good place" in this case was at rock  bottom. 
• God is with you in both places. 
• The worst occasions are the best times to praise him. 

Psalm 29 Ascribe to the Lord, you heavenly beings,

    ascribe to the Lord glory and strength.

2 Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name;

    worship the Lord in the splendor of his[a] holiness.

3 The voice of the Lord is over the waters;

    the God of glory thunders,

    the Lord thunders over the mighty waters.

4 The voice of the Lord is powerful;

    the voice of the Lord is majestic... The Lord gives strength to his people. 

Sabbatical Day 8 

If you've missed a few posts, Jason and I drug a camper trailer to the San Juan mountains. We're camping in the Rio Grande National Forest in Colorado. Our church has so graciously provided us with some sabbath time. This post shares a day in our journey. 

Jason and I took our regular walk this morning. There's hardly an inch of this place where we're staying that I don't have a memory of. It's around my thirty-first time to be here. 

I've eaten an embarrassing number of fried burritos here through the years. I've paddle-boated plenty; an early detector of my less than expert driving skills. I've scaled the mountain on horseback.  And I've inter-tubed the Rio Grande. 

Most of those memories are pleasant. Some? Not so much. While on a walk up the mountain the other day, I was reminded of how terrified I used to be on the trail rides. Both going up and down the mountain, there would be, in places, a narrow rocky, dirt trail. The horses made most of the trips half asleep. Occasionally their foot would slip on a rock and they'd stumble a bit making both mine and their death near certain, by way of tumbling off the side of the mountain. 

Then there was the inter-tubing in the freezing waters of the Rio Grande. I didn't even enjoy stepping into the water. The uneven, ungracious rocks kept me unbalanced. But steppning into the water was better than what would happen when I'd jump up on my inter tube. 

I don't remember a trip where there wasn't somebody, either my antagonizing brother or a cousin, who'd get close enough to kick freezing water on me. The breeze made the water that much colder. Maybe worse was when I'd get separated from the group, afraid that I'd float off (as if I couldn't stop myself) somewhere down the Rio Grande outside Fun Valley. 

When we'd made one round there's always be those around me who were in for a couple more rounds of torture and they'd talk me into my usual begrudged participation.

Here's the place. 

I still have a pattern of such behavior. I have a hard time saying no to people. I will say that when it came to being subjected to things such as alcohol and the practice of cursing as a teenager, I was an oak. I wanted to please God and I knew those things were wrong and could easily say no. But when it came (and has come) to doing things just for the sake of seeming nice, or brave or interesting, I have wasted a great deal of my time and most likely fooled a few people. Still, most likely people find out when you're not genuine. I'm not sure that pleases God either. 

Does anybody remember  Runaway Bride with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere?  I truly identified with Maggie's (Julia Robert's) character. A quick synopsis: Country girl, flannel-wearing Maggie has jilted several grooms at the altar. A reporter (Ricahrd Gere) from the city comes to get the story just as Maggie is engaged to be married once again. 

(Kind of ) Spoiler alert: The reporter after spending some time with Maggir, asks her how she likes her eggs. Throughout her relationships she's ordered whatever type of eggs her man was ordering, be it poached, scrambled or over easy. Come to find out Maggie's egg choices reveals her inability to make decisions based on who she really is and what she's really looking for. 

A few months ago, Jason suggested, and a good friend gave me, an insightful and helpful book called "Boundaries". Here's a great quote I came upon early in the book.  

Many people live scattered and tumultuous lives trying to live outside of their own boundaries, not accepting and expressing the truth of who they are. Honesty about who you are gives you the biblical value of integrity or oneness. -Boundaries by Dr. Henry McCloud and Dr. John Townsend

I'm glad to be hemmed in by mountains these days. I'm thankful for the lack of voices (mainly the many voices of the world) that direct my path. I tend to be like one of those sleepy old horses. 

Sign my kids up for way too many activities just because it seems the thing to do? Ok. Stand there and participate (even if in silence) to an unkind conversation just because you don't want to be viewed as rude, or made an outsider? Count me in. 

Faithful God though, through scripture, is remaking me into someone unique, someone whose image isn't man made or formed into a worldly likeness; someone whose aim (to please) has been redirected. 

May I cease to waste my energy on being someone I'm not. It tires me and is of no benefit; neither to me nor those around me. May I live only to please God. Scripture tells me He's got some kind of plan.  

Mathew 5:37 But let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’ For whatever is more than these is from the evil one.

Sabbatical Day 7

If you've missed a few posts, Jason and I drug a camper trailer to the San Juan mountains. We're camping in the Rio Grande National Forest in Colorado. Our church has so graciously provided us with some sabbath time. This post shares a day in our journey. 

(Here's a picture I just spotted on Facebook of some of our church family having their Tuesday meal which Jason is missing.)

It's not even one in the afternoon and we've already walked almost six miles today.  I hadn't planned on that. I was thinking, when we got up this morning, that we should do some sight-seeing. You know, the kind where you drive down the road and pull over to one of those paved side roads that says "scenic overlook". 

Instead, we climbed two heights. They'll both go down in the book of stories I'll tell my children and grandchildren. I'll describe, more times than once, how we climbed these two places. 

Lobo Pass is situated right near the continental divide. From the top you can see, ... oh I don't know, maybe a hundred miles. It's breathtaking, ESPECIALLY IF YOU WALK. 

The elevation is somewhere around 11,000 feet. The road was closed for vehicles so we (mostly Jason) got the bright idea to walk up it. Off to a good start we saw a mule deer with a nice pair of antlers walk in front of us. I didn't grab my camera, sure we'd see more. 

The main thing I saw for the next hour was a dusty trail that got steeper. We saw more of the mountains across the landscape. Oh yeah...and snow. I'd decided to wear my cuter shoes, some thin canvas Converse shoes, as opposed to my better cushioned walking shoes. Not a great idea. 

After two hours of walking we came near the impassable top where a mound of snow covered the little bit of trail left ahead. 

Oxygen starved and cold (but in better shape than I would have been had we decided to walk on) we headed back down the mountain. On the way down I saw a girl in proper hiking attire headed up the way we'd been. I started to warn her that "it wasn't worth it!". But then I decided, that's my account. Jason's might sound quite different. Her's might be too. 

 Treasure Falls is a different story. 

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matthew 6:21

You can see it from the highway when you're curving toward the bottom of the mountains. It's beautiful. I'd have treasured it had we never got out of the car. I marveled at it from the little railway placed at its base. But there was a trail you could climb to get closer to its top. 

The trail looked pretty worn so I decided it must be safe. Not too many steps along I changed my mind. There was no guardrail. We quickly saw a sign that said "Trail is hazardous when wet". The closer we got to the top the more damp the narrow trail beneath us became from water spray from the falls. 

To my disappointment, the trees seemed to hide the waterfall that was so visible from the bottom. I wondered why no one had warned us that there wasn't much to see from the top. 

Despite the fact that the rushing of the waters through the trees was getting louder, I decided  I must be more afraid of heights than I realized.  I thought "This can't be worth it". 

I wanted to stop and turn around. Grace would allow that. I've learned about the grace that's available when "I didn't" or "I couldn't".  (I found that kind of grace on the top of Lobo Pass BECAUSE it was impassable. I'm not sure I could have made it another 400 yards.)

Back to Treasure Falls. Partly because there wasn't room to turn around and partly because this time grace said "Keep going, I kept carefully stepping until we came to a corner. Immediately my senses were assaulted at the falls before me. We walked on to a misty and magical bridge. It celebrated my courage and endurance, if not my trust (maybe next time). 

Then grace urged me up once more to the highest place one can go. I was covered by the mist of the waterfall and by grace. 

I'm rather fond of times when grace tells me it's ok to turn around. But today grace allowed me to keep going. And it was worth it.  

My favorite Psalm (46)

1 God is our refuge and strength,  an ever-present help in trouble.

2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,

3 though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.

4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells.

5 God is within her, she will not fall;

Sabbatical Day 6

One of the best things about this place is ice cream from the Snack Shack. It shouldn't be anything so special; it comes from one of those run of the mill ice cream machines. But ice cream from the magic machine at Fun Valley tastes like a dream. You can get vanilla, chocolate or swirl, in a cup, or on a cone, or made into a thick shake that promises brain freeze (or as Rylie used to say "freeze brain"). 

I get chocolate. Always. 

It's my second food of choice from the ole Snack Shack I dearly love. My first favorite is....wait for it...the Allsup's Fried Burrito (from, you know, the gas station Allsups). It comes with one of those paper sleeves and, new this year, two packets of taco sauce. I had that burrito Saturday. 

While Jason and I were waiting in line I overheard the blonde lady who takes orders at the window tell the customer in front  "Sorry, but the ice cream machine is froze over."  To save herself further grief, the blonde lady shouted the announcement to the rest of us in line, "No ice cream".

 De' javu. This frequently happens, as does what follows. 

The customer audibly complains, or they grimace as if they'd just been given bad test results. (We love our ice cream). I can imagine myself in such a position as the disappointed lady, smiling, but moaning "Oh man".  

This time the customer must have chosen the frowny-face reaction because I could hear "disappointed herself, blonde lady " tell the customer (hoping we'd all hear her) that nobody was as sorry that the machine wasn't working as she was. She expressed that she hates making customers unhappy. 

Me? I was fine. I was ordering my first sabbatical burrito. 

Yesterday Jason and I decided to take our second walk to the Snack Shack because somebody had a hankering for chocolate ice cream. As I slipped on my new pair of green tennis shoes, purchased to counteract Snack Shack visits, I remembered the debacle from Friday. 

"They might not have ice cream," I thought. "No grimacing.", I told myself. 

Still confident that yesterday's machine issues were resolved, I lightheartedly walked in step with my husband, eager to get my kiddie cone. 

As we reached second in line the sad announcement came. No ice cream. I thought about how often those in customer service, like the blonde lady, deal with let down people. I quickly adjusted my face into a "who needs the calories anyway" smile. We walked away empty-handed. 

On the walk back to the camper I thought (and am still thinking) of the things that irk us and how freely we share our dissatisfaction. 

We want what we want and we want it now.  

Our patience and kindness has a way of shutting down like the ice cream machine at the Snack Shack.  We forget to take into consideration that, maybe, the machine's cooperation is outside "the blonde lady's" control. 

Then there are those times when it is in someone's control to serve us properly and efficiently. 

A friend posted on Facebook a few days ago how a woman berated a teenager for counting out her change incorrectly at Sonic (not corrected, berated). She said the teenager ended up in tears. 

We can point out to a person, their inability to please us or we can give them what Michael Bolton sang about "time, love and tenderness". 

Here's where sabbath rest comes in. I'm grumpier, and less patient when I'm tired. I'm less pleasant and less patient when I'm in a hurry and something goes wrong. 

It's in this rest, this "slow down" we've so graciously been given that I have a little renewed energy that comes in handy, aiding me in proper behavior. It's in this break from the rush that I'm reminded of the opportunity we have, to stress or bless people we come in contact with, even if it's for sixty seconds at the cash register. 

I'm the hurrying kind. I'll get back to the quick pace. It's my prayer that when I do, that this perspective will be brought to mind...that I'll have stored up some patience and some goodness that I can break out when someone presents me with disappointment. 

When we return from this special break from the rat race, I hope that I'll make time for rest...that I'll spend time in prayer and reflection, trusting God to mold me into a person more easily dealt with. 

We all need rest and renewal. Though making time for it can be quite a challenge, it will benefit us and those around us who probably need a break themselves. 

Galatians 5: 22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. 

Especially in a place like the mountains I'm remembering  how splendid and broad God's paint strokes are, but He's reminding me too how intricate his work is. Thankful for the big picture and for the good and detailed plan He has for our lives. 

Jason and I are on day five of sabbatical in the Rio Grande National Forest. We hiked up a mountain, which was no easy task for me. We read scripture together and prayed, but I couldn't get Jason to sing with me. 

When we were at the highest point I asked Jason what he noticed. The landscape of surrounding mountains caught his eye. I'd become obsessed with moss and other things scattered on the mountain floor. I looked at an old fallen tree and had to touch the  layers in its bark. 

In all that I was taking in,  I thought about my house. If you ever come and see me I'll invite you in. 

The downstairs is built so that you can walk in a circle. When you come into the entryway you can walk right into the living room. That room leads you to the kitchen. From the kitchen there are little white folding doors which kid visitors love to open and close. Those lead you into the dining room (that's hardly used). Walk through the dining room and you'll see the bathroom and the entry/exit way. 

If I know you're coming I'll spiffy up the downstairs. I'll probably vacuum the rug, fluff up the decorative pillows and move the clutter to one of its places, probably to the wooden tray by the microwave. I won't invite you upstairs. That's the place that lacks a decorative touch. Not just that,  but the beds are hardly ever made and there are probably clothes strung over a chair. Whatever you do, don't go in the girls' bathroom. The whole second floor lacks proper care. 

Not so with the mountain. 

The lack of oxygen and and steep places make it uninviting. There are places up there where human feet rarely tread. I know people have hiked there, but the space is vast. Never you mind.  Every inch is filled with wonder and beauty. There's not a spot or living thing that's without his decorative touch. 

I found seed cases and decomposition reminding me of his intelligent plan of sustaining life. I marveled at moss that looked like paint splotches in the deepest hues. I looked across at the mountains and was humbled; humbled at One who is all-powerful but would take such care to create and tend to the minute...That He would share ALL of it with us; the birdsong, the breeze and the sun that warms us. 

He's a glorious God.  That makes me want to climb mountains.

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I'm feeling rather liberated today. Nope. I haven't climbed a mountain yet or rafted the rushing waters of the Rio Grande. 

Yesterday I trashed over 11,000 old messages on email. I'm crossing my fingers I didn't get rid of anything important. (The thing is, my phone had no space to add anything new. If I tried to take a picture, the message "your library is full, no storage space" would flash across my screen.)

I don't know what I'll do without the "@donotreply" reminder from school that one of my kids had a 78 average in English class this past fall or that special discount from Shutterfly, offering 25% off photo books. 

I've cleaned out my photo library on my iPhone too. 

My screen life is simplified. 

That's not to say I've been able to have the screen time I'm usually afforded. There's limited cell reception here. Throw in the fact that Jason took out the TVs that were in the camper before we left and I'm pretty much living like a cave girl. (Not really. I'm obviously tapping away on my iPhone as I speak while sitting in front of my own personal space heater lest I catch a chill from the coolness of the morning). 

But screen life is limited. And my life is lighter. 

I'm not guaging America's reaction to the Stanford rape case, or to the girl in the news from the metroplex who shared in her valedictorian speech that she's an undocumented citizen, or its reaction to the latest on the Trump and Hillary slugfest. That's not to say that I'm no longer compassionate, but I'm less nosy and less stressed. And it's a nice break. 

The mere act of getting "rid of stuff" and not having access to my typical time-eaters makes me instantly feel as if I'm adding gigabytes to my brain space and years to my life. 

Simplification and careful elimination

That's the ticket 

not only concerning my technology time but in my use of time altogether 

I'm practicing making room in my crowded life; more room for God to show me things, things an overfilled, distracted mind might miss. 

I can better listen and understand what God requires of me. 

It's been easy the past five days, the first days of sabbatical. We're kid-less until next week. "House cleaning" takes about ten minutes. I had bacon wrapped peppers for supper last night and smores for dessert. The weather is beautiful. I'm learning to live better by the use of training wheels these days.   

My prayer is that I'll keep my balance when the wheels come off back home (or maybe by day 10 if my "need-to know and need-to-be-involved default" kicks back in). My hope is that I'll be alert to the world's tedious and cumbersome invitations that I'm not meant to accept. 

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:1-2

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Check out our sabbatical pictures on Instagram @ Kristi burden and pastor burden 

I killed a spider with my bare thumb this morning. I spared no time as it looked me in the eye inside the CAMPER TRAILER SHOWER!  It was me or him. There was no room for kindness.  (I've already bragged about it on Facebook. Sorry if you're having to read about it again...I'm done now). 

For a moment I felt invincible. A half-hour later I was reminded of my limitations while I was curling my hair in the kitchen. 

We stayed at a KOA camp in Raton, New Mexico last night. Isn't it pretty? 

We're headed to South Fork, Colorado today. So this morning I was trying to both get ready and pack up everything we used last night, one of those "needing to be packed" items was a candle I used last night to get rid of the musty camper smell. 

I felt I was positioned perfectly to clean and primp at the same time. My curling iron cord, which was attached to my hair, was plugged in on my right. I noticed a woven basket on the cabinet directly underneath the plug. "A good place to put the candle that's now on the table to my left," I thought. It needs to be secured before making this last leg of the drive.  

Just as quickly as I murdered that spider, I lunged my left hand toward the candle (while my right hand was still attached to the curling iron that was wrapped around my hair). The cord snapped me back in place. 

So I took a large step with my left foot toward the table, sure if I stretched myself I'd be able to reach it and put it in the basket. 

My efforts were in vain. 

Note to self:  write about your problem with impulsivity.  

I had to finish "my curl" and then put the curling iron down. 

I think I speak for all of us when I say we have things we should put down. We all needlessly stretch ourselves. 

We try to do, to make, to fix...to control, finding ourselves spent. Exhaustion can discourage us, reminding us of all the things that are left undone. 

Thankfully my battle of will only lasted about thirty seconds this morning, but trying to do as much as I can in as little time as possible is a lifestyle I'm accustomed to. 

Anybody remember this? One of my favorite visuals describing me when I hurry. 

Life isn't meant to be lived out in our own strength. Weariness  reminds us, brothers and sisters, of "the thing to do" when we're feeling frazzled. 

The Message puts it nicely:

Are you tired? Worn out? ...Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.  Matthew  11:28-30

Time with God (surrender to God) teaches us those things (worry, control, fear, busyness...) that can be crossed off our list. He tells us to put that thing down. He shows us how to order our steps. He teaches us to wait, giving "rest to our souls".  

Flight will perish from the swift, And the stalwart will not strengthen his power, Nor the mighty man save his life. Amos 2:14

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Every time we pass through Centerville Texas we stop at Woody's Smokehouse. It doesn't matter if we need gas or food or to stretch our feet. The kids have a standing date with the machine that make"For Real Milkshakes". I, without hesitation, grab a bag of cherry sours. I have an alliance with those things. 
An hour ago we made our stop. We were hungry so we got sandwiches from the deli. I plucked a bag of cherry sours from a hook on a pegboard wall of assorted candies. I hardly give those other bags a glance. 

As we pull out on highway 7, I pull our purchases out of paper bags and pass them out like Christmas gifts. I then open my Dr Pepper bottle and swig satisfaction. 

Today I thought I was smart. I opened my bag of cherry sours, got a handful, closed the bag and PUT IT IN THE BACKSEAT. I removed the temptation of those red devils. 

Proud of myself I turned up the radio ready to sing to some Alan Jackson. That's when Jason pulls out a bag of chocolate covered almonds. I forgot about those guys. He sets them right between us on the console, a truelove offering. 

Giddy I grab a handful because chocolate covered almonds are a close second to my cherry candies. 

 I grab another. Jason and I take turns clutching handfuls. Before we know it, half the Texas size bag is gone and I realize where we made our error. We left the bag open. 

It's way too easy to eat partake of them when they're in plain sight...and when they're opened. 

I learned a similar lesson not so long ago regarding my tendency to participate in toxic situations. "Let's play this thing out," I say. It's like the game of Monopoly I played with my brother in my twenties that lasted forever where I'm pretty sure we both lost. 

My initial involvement is not my fault. I responsibly put my cherry sours in the backseat when Jason flashes chocolate in front of my face. I get drawn in.

It's just like those Facebook posts and news article comments that show up six times in a two minute scroll. I just can't help myself. I read and then fix my mind on the most outlandish string of nonsensical words I can find and I lament at what the world's coming to. 

We're on sabbatical as I told you in my last post. I've a list of things I want to improve upon. Gaining a little self control would be at the top... Stepping up to remove temptation when it's in my power. 

Close the bag already. 

And when it's not in my power to remove the temptation I want to learn to remove myself from it. Now excuse me while I crawl into the way  back of the car. 

Pray for me friends.

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Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord. Psalm 1:1-2

You have circled this mountain long enough. Now turn north... Deuteronomy 2:3

I wouldn't call it a mountain, this place we've circled. But I agree it's time to turn. Bye-bye 27th street. See you later "multiple trips to Market Basket" to get two more items I've got to have, that I forgot I needed four hours earlier when I was in there. Adios Netflix and Hulu who steal our time.  See ya in July, yippy dogs of ours. 

We're saying sayonara to southeast Texas for a spell. We're putting down the rat race baton for a while.  Jason has pastored First Baptist Nederland for five years and the church has graciously provided us a month long sabbatical. 

I'm feeling extra loved by our church who lovingly gifted us, before we set out on our journey,  with good, good things including a rotating S'mores fork that will be put to use immediately upon arrival. And I'll take pictures. 

We're headed to Colorado; a place where there's not much cell reception but I can have all the fried burritos I want. I plan on reading, writing and swatting flies.   I'm going to watch lazy seeds from cottonwood trees float on a breeze. 

I'm going to wrap myself up in a light jacket, in June mornings up in the mountains. Afternoons, I'll be warmed by a sun that seems higher than in Texas, though it's rays still reach me.  

It won't be like usual summers, I pray. 

I came up with terms long ago to describe summers as compared to the schoolyear. The schoolyear, for us, is routine chaos. Summer is chaos (minus the routine). Both "chaoses" consist of going and doing, with few of our activities bearing lasting importance. I hope to do little going or doing, once we park our trailer in its numbered slot. Mostly I plan on having no plans.

We're headed North. 

 I want to become an empty page, leaving space for God to write. I'm asking for ears that hear his voice over the noise. I will listen for his quietness. 

 I pray I'll be one who welcomes His interruption into my dreams (even fried burrito ones).  

I've packed light, making room for plans he has stored up for me.  

I want to soak up the beauty in creation and be reminded of his majesty. I want to see that which I typically pass over. 

I want, in my minutes and miles, to be aware of his presence, instead of filling time and space with worry that strips me of joy and finicky pleasures that don't last. 

Out of the north comes golden splendor; Around God is awesome majesty. Job 37:22

I want to bottle up what's there; both cherishing and sharing the gifts before me. 

We're heading North. 

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It was raining twenty-one years ago today. I remember because that was our wedding day. I had thought that rain on your wedding day was bad luck just like it was bad luck for the bride to see the groom on the day of the wedding. 

 It was just a rain shower that morning; nothing like the storm outside this morning. There's flooding throughout Texas this week. Videos of washed out highways and swept away cars flood Facebook. My phone has screamed flash flood alerts three times in the past twenty-four hours. 
Where am I going with this? Oh yes. 

Despite its unpredictable nature, I've grown to appreciate the rain. 

I'll never forget the sunroom in our house in Trinity whose tin roof amplified the rain. Its sound filled every room. 

When you think about it, rain is easier to love from indoors. 

I'd be happy if I could choose when it rains. I'd schedule thunderstorms on lazy days when I could sit and listen from the comfort of our living room or in the stillness of night where I'm under the covers in safety. I wouldn't schedule showers on my wedding day. I'd only step outdoors in the rain on warm days when melted hair wouldn't matter, when I had no place to go. I'd step outside but for a moment to get something from the car and then come back in and read a book with a blanket in my favorite chair (your chair). 

I've learned in the past twenty-one years of marriage that I don't schedule the rain. I have no control over how hard it falls, just as I have little control over what difficulties come our way. 

Rain intermingles with sun without consideration of our plans and dreams. Sometimes it's a soft pitter-patter, other times the waters are overwhelming. Trials come. 

I've found that love doesn't eliminate storms. Love weathers storms. 

 Sometimes we have shelter from the storm. Other times we shelter one another in it. 

It's the latter that has grown our marriage. Our love that has braved storms, has made us stronger. 

Your my favorite person to walk with in sunlight (which accounts for most of the days) and in storm. 

Happy 21st Anniversary.