What I Did On My Vacation

Kids are like little mirrors.  Not ordinary mirrors.  That would be scary enough.  

No, I'm talking magnifying mirrors--the kind that make your face look like the surface of the moon and which acquaint you with your nostrils and hair follicles in ways you wish you could forget.  

Imagine the lessons you could learn if you were to take spend, say, 23 hours (straight) in a sealed vehicle with seven such mirrors!  It would be such an education!  Like summer school!  

Or boot camp.  I speak from experience.

We just got back from a family vacation to Florida.  To make the already long trip even more of an adventure, we decided to drive straight through the night in an wind/snow/ice storm that covered two states in a truck sporting not only a large, square trailer box on our hitch (what we like to call "the mainsail"), but also a car-top carrier as big as a Prius (a.k.a "the jib").  

Our oversize luggage carriers, in addition to the general square-ishness of our Suburban allowed us to experience the wind gusts through the mountains to the fullest extent.  

This, combined with the fact that the only other travelers on the ice-covered roads seemed to be 18 wheelers of the "fast and flirty" variety, made for a truly memorable ride.  (At one point I mentioned to Jamey that if his window had been open, he could have licked the semi that was blowing past us.)

It was truly a white-knuckle ride--or it could have been in less capable hands than Jamey's.  He is an excellent driver, but it was at the very least a potentially dangerous situation.  

Interestingly, my children had a very different experience than I did. 

OK. Audience participation time! 

Q:  What did I learn from my children during the ice storm?  Choose the best answer.

a)  If you fully trust your father, you can sleep like tiny angels even when there is danger outside.

b)  When a person is actively navigating a storm, it is better to offer him soft, encouraging words and a neck rub from the back seat than to pepper him with high-pitched predictions of imminent doom from the passenger seat.

c)  Panicked pillow clutching and loud, helpful gasping are less calming than quiet singing or even heavy snoring.

  d)  All of the above.  

Bingo!  It was "d"!  Good job.  

I got it wrong on the test, but I'm going to try to remember for next time.

Lesson number two:  In Georgia, we stopped at a gas station and Jude (age 6) leaped out of his prison in the "back-back", hopped up onto the trailer box, and announced that he would be finishing the trip right there on the back of the truck.  He looped his fingers through a bungee strap, leaned up against the box in a jaunty pose, and flashed a confident smile.  "Can I?"  he asked in all seriousness.  "I want to feel the wind on my head."

As I cupped his little chin in my hand, I was reminded of how many times my heavenly Father has had to rework my grand ideas to fit a reality I didn't fully grasp.  

Over and over I come to Him with all the reasons I am tired of riding in tight places with people who breathe on me and smell like feet.  My logic seems flawless.  

I want to feel the wind on my head.  

Over and over, He gently explains how so often my idea of freedom would actually result in a face full of bugs, dry eyes, and maybe death.

How like Jude I am!

Lesson 3:  As soon as we told Keira (age 4) about our impending trip, she began demanding regular re-affirmation of the agenda.  "We going to Flo-duh?" she would ask 20 times a day.

"Yes," we would say.  "We're going to Florida."

 "OK," she would say, looking satisfied--until 30 minutes later when she would come back and ask the same thing.

This occurred in the week leading up to the trip.  

It continued as she saw us loading up the truck.  

It continued as we loaded HER into the truck.  

It continued for the entire 23 hours it took to drive to Florida.  

Two days after we arrived in Florida, even as she was standing by the pool in her swimsuit and floaties, she was still not quite believing us. 

"We going to Flo-duh?"  she asked as the water dripped off her braids.  

Ummm...yep.  We are.   And if you don't believe us yet,  I'm not sure we can help you.

Does this ring any bells in your life?  It did in mine.  Being carried along by my loving God, who has always kept His word to me, I nevertheless keep asking Him, "Are you sure?"  

"Is what you promised true?"  

"Can I trust that what you have said will come to pass?"  

"Do you know what You are doing?"

"We going to Flo-duh?"

Lesson 4:  Several days into the vacation, we walked the younger children down to a park to play for the morning.  The sun was shining. It was warm. We had no agenda.  No schedule to keep.  Bliss!

Thirty minutes in, the complaints starting trickling in.  "I'm too hot."

"I'm bored."

"I'm thirsty."

"This slide is slow."

"Why didn't they build swings here?"

"When is lunch?"

How did it not occur to them, I pondered on the swift and steely march back to the house, that their father had worked hard and sacrificed to bring them on this vacation?  That their friends were sitting at home doing schoolwork?  That it was 2 degrees where we live?   That their playground at home was buried in two feet of snow?

They were like a miniature tribe of Israel who, having been delivered from the grip of eternal winter, could only say, "Why have you brought us down from the frozen tundra to roast on this playground?  There are no granola bars!  There are no juice boxes!  And we detest this miserable rock climbing wall!"  (Paraphrase of Numbers 21:5 ) 

Ah!  How young it doth begin!  The relentless ingratitude of the human heart.  

Dear friends, do not neglect to mine the wealth of object lessons from the lives of your children.  Even as you are correcting and redirecting and instructing and trying not to laugh at them where they can see you, they are showing you stark images of yourself...

...which I think answers the question of why God leaves them with us for a full 18 years instead of for six weeks like say, baby gerbils.  

Even then, it's not long enough for most of us. 

Yet another reason to look forward to grandchildren;)