About five weeks ago I had a conversation with Tim that was hard, but good. It was me sharing all that was broken in my heart and head, and him responding perfectly. In that conversation, I mentioned wanting to get away for a few days to clear my head and regroup. He was fully supportive. Later that day I invited a friend along for the ride to go buy a book that was life-changing for me when I'd read the library copy earlier in the month. (It's
Present Over Perfect: Leaving Behind Frantic for a Simpler, More Soulful Way of Living, written by Shauna Niequist, for those who are interested.) I confided in her some of what I'd shared with Tim and about my desire to get away for a while. She affirmed that taking a break from real life to sort things out was a good idea. That night I made reservations and marked the calendar.
Within the week we had an unexpected change in our schedule and I had to cancel my trip. Tim's immediate response was for me to reschedule, but I said I was fine (and I truly was in a better place than before our big conversation) and there was no rush. I didn't need the trip as desperately as I had before. Later, though, I thought of the following quote from
The Wise Woman and Other Stories, written by George MacDonald.
"People are so ready to think themselves changed when it is only their mood that is changed! Those who are good-tempered because it is a fine day, will be ill-tempered when it rains: their selves are just the same both days; only in the one case, the fine weather has got into them, in the other the rainy."
I know myself, my propensity to have ups and downs, to let circumstances dictate my mood. My whole purpose in wanting to go in the first place to figure out how to keep my heart and head in a good place when life isn't going well, so it made sense that I should go away to work out some junk when I wasn't in crisis mode.
I made another reservation. Life required that it be on a different date, for a different length of time, and in a different location, but I went. I called it my "Oxygen Mask Retreat", referencing the idea of keeping my oxygen mask on that I've been working on lately.
The friend I confided in earlier, the only person outside of my family who knew about the trip, had left a gift for me at church after I'd told her I'd had to cancel my original reservation. I opened the bag at church, quickly looked through it, then closed it back up because I didn't think I could hold myself together. That night I showed it to Tim and just started sobbing.
She'd taken a bag and filled it with things for me to take on my original trip, then chose to give it to me anyway when that trip fell through. I put it in my closet that night, saving it for the right timing, then brought it all with me when I finally got away. Any gift would have been thoughtful, but this collection of treasures made me feel so known and loved. Cookies (you know they're my love language), Tension Tamer tea, a journal and pens (she knew I wanted to spend my time reading, writing, and praying), a prayer shawl she'd requested from the group who makes them at our church so I'd feel wrapped in love and prayer, a thoughtful card, and an abundance of blue and green. Isn't that amazing?
I'm not going to share anything about the heart and head aspect of my trip, the reason for my break from reality, because that's between me and God (and, on some points, the other Ws), but here are some of the things that made me smile along the way.
A friend stopped by our home as I was walking out the door to load the car in the morning and dropped off cookies for our family. I'd made everyone an egg, sausage, and spinach scramble for breakfast, but opted not to make toast for myself. Evidently my body knew I needed to save space for cookies and to start my trip out on the right foot. Mine were eaten before I hit the freeway. No shame.
Ocean as far as the eye could see. The sound of creeks and waterfalls. Birds running and flying, a sea lion sunbathing.
The light and warmth of a campfire. An opportunity to rest and sing.
Two cards on a shelf, one from my friend and the other enclosed with the prayer shawl, served as tangible reminders that I'm loved.
The verse inside the prayer shawl card, one that I happen to have posted in my bathroom. One about hope, something I've been focusing on lately.
Surrounded by tall trees, the morning sun peeking through. A cup of hot tea to drink while I read my Bible.
Waves crashing. Blue skies and warm sun.
A peaceful view from the picnic table I read and wrote at for the afternoon.
A giant smile on the hillside as I drove home.
Yep, that's worth smiling about.
It was a wonderful trip and I'm so glad I heeded Tim's advice to make it happen, even though the original plan didn't work out.
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