“Too often. . .I would hear men boast of the miles covered that day, rarely of what they had seen.”
Last night, over swordfish and orzo he prepared, we talk of life and of going, somewhere. This summer, so hot, seems to dash my spirit, time and again. I travel in the fall but had returned from a weekend away. Hurricane Irene caused my brother Josh and I to take a different trip than we’d expected: to Colorado instead of North Carolina. Collin hadn’t gone with me; he raced his bike. I was tired, having had an active weekend with Josh that looked like early mornings and yielded sore muscles. We ate, though, and I could see Collin’s face light up as he daydreamed out loud. This world, a playground, and we hear God’s invitation to participate in a word: explore.
I wish I had my camera to photograph the sureness on Collin’s face as he talked, for it mirrored something I know: going (somewhere, anywhere) widens the world, expands sight and shifts perspective. There. Is. More. I go on trips for a number of reasons: to see friends, to work, to participate in mission work, to do something different, to relax. This weekend I went to spend time with Josh and to get away. That was it. We found ourselves, though, strengthened and filled with anticipation and hope for the coming season. It was as if our hearts needed a bit of a reset, and we received it. Our everyday is not the whole of every day. There. Is. More.
It feels like a gift, this reminder.