June 8th, 2009 | Renae

Revealing Road Trip

My to do list whirls in circles. I’m not as good at impromptu road trips as I used to be.

Responsibilities multiply with each child. So many individuals to care for and pack for. The pets need someone to watch over them too. Fish and dog cannot exist without food.

The list grows:

Plan the route
Call relatives and friends
Email
Laundry
Start the pack stack
Go shopping
Clean the van
Talk to Mom again
Clean the house
Dig out the suitcases
Wrap up the tent
Sigh and pray

Thursday we decided to travel to Idaho to help with a children’s camp. Spontaneous and crazy. And so much like our life a decade ago.

Dylan and I traversed the Northwest in our Volkswagen van before we came to Texas to attend a missions training school. The van was abandoned after our son joined us, but the desire to explore never left.

For two years, we’ve stuck close to home. Road trips have only taken us an hour or two away. Our neighborhood is our forest. Our backyard is our exposure to creation. Bugs and birds, caterpillars and toads remind us of the marvelous works of God. There are neighbors to love. Children to teach.

But why does my voice vanish when my friend asks, “Your heart is in Idaho, isn’t it?”

I miss the physical beauty of the majestic peaks and winding canyon, but perhaps there is more than the lure of clear lakes and hiking trails.

I think of my family and how much I miss them. I think of friends struggling in the cold desert. I think of the ideas planted in my heart while growing up there. Ideas about revival and liberty and hope.

I think of the investment we made reaching out to the hurting. It felt like it was in vain. The fruit seemed withered and dry. No amount of tears could bring it to life. Part of me died on the canyon rim overlooking the snaking river, a part I wasn’t entirely ready to give, but prayers dropped into that green valley were seeds. I don’t know if they’ve been able to grow in the rocky soil, but I do realize something I didn’t fully understand then: love is never in vain.

This trip may be the beginning of a return home, or we may continue drinking sweet tea in East Texas. No matter what happens, I know there is work to do. And by the grace of God, I will keep my hand to the plow planting seeds, dying to myself, no matter where I go.