Getting from Point A to Point B has its benefits. Bed to toilet in the night, to coffee pot in the morning, to favorite coffee seat. Getting from home to work and home again—gotta make the money to keep the home. Very important. My husband and I left our home Friday, bound for Yellowstone National Park in our truck, hauling our travel trailer. The journey was fantastic! Well, let me back up.
The hallmark of our trips’ success is “no yelling, crying, or cussing”. If you’ve ever hitched, backed, parked or driven a travel trailer, you’ve likely done all three! And a long trip is a perfect setting for these emotions to flare. We loaded the trailer, hitched and took off on our journey with none of those expressions I mentioned. As we headed to the road, wouldn’t you know, there was a problem. Crap! We went to the hardware store and got an easy fix to get us on the road. We stayed overnight at a truck stop. Day One: Success.
Day Two: We camped in a beautiful place, had a meteor shower to entertain us, and we slept like babies. We woke up rested. Coffee in hand, we set off for the next leg of our journey. Success!
On Day Three, we got to Yellowstone earlier than planned and set up camp. An early arrival allowed for sightseeing. My husband suggested taking a look at a waterfall. Here’s where the learning—or realization—began. The travel to Yellowstone was spectacular. Driving through such beautiful countryside made for terrific conversation. The trip to the waterfall, however, while there was no yelling, cussing or crying, was not a fun journey. The sign at the trailhead indicated less than a half mile. Easy, and welcomed, given so much car time. Not so much. The trail was packed with people. Within the first 30 feet the trail became a steep downhill with many switchbacks. It definitely was not a half mile. Each leg of the switchback meant people pushing past us to get ahead while kids ran up towards us, racing to get back to the top of the trail. Two separate women at two separate parts of the trail passed us as we climbed down, sweaty, exhausted, and breathing quite heavily. Not a good sign. We had not gone very far by this point. The trail had no side rails and to misstep meant, at the very least, a sprained ankle. At the worst, broken bones.
Before this trip I had injured my knee and going down such a steep grade was no fun. The crowds were no fun. My knee pain was definitely no fun. I needed to complete the journey for two reasons: The exercise and strengthening of the muscles around my injured knee would help the knee, and I wanted to see the “stinking waterfall”.
We reached the end of our journey: The Brink of the Lower Falls. It was amazing indeed. So much glacial water pouring over the cliff, down over 1,200 feet to the bottom of the rock gorge, cut out over thousands of years. The pounding flow cut the rock, exposing orange-cream faces. The tremendous mist rose up to kiss our noses. It was truly an awesome waterfall. We stayed there for quite awhile. Standing still was painful, moving was painful, and I was eager to be done, but of course that meant I had to climb back up to the top of the trail. My husband took many photos and videos and, to his chagrin, the soundtrack to the videos was the crowds uttering not so quietly their awe at the sight of the falls. This meant many retakes. Ugh!
Finally, the only task ahead of us was to get back to the top. Yay. A new journey.
I can be grumpy. I even bought a book once to relate to the grumpy author of “Sometimes I Wake Up Grumpy, and Sometimes I Let Her Sleep”. I’ll give you a second with that. I was not grumpy this time. I was in pain, even though uphill usually is not my problem. I made the choice to ask for what I needed in the moment multiple times and we stopped to rest, and chatted with other folks struggling at 8,000 feet elevation to climb the steep trail.
We made it to the top! The end was great, or at least satisfying, because we reached our goal, but the journey was no fun at all.
The Journey to make coffee yields a steaming, aromatic brew to start the day. The Journey to work yields a salary. The Journey to destinations shows us how the world outside our bubble presents itself and amazes us.
But here’s the thing: Why does the journey sometimes have to suck? I’d rather drive to beautiful areas, taking in change in topography and town, and letting my mind wonder what life is like in each place. I see end of life the same way. We all are on a journey to death. That doesn’t sound like any trip to look forward to necessarily, but it is inevitable. A believer in Heaven or afterlife would likely look forward to death, but there’s still loved ones we will leave behind. Relationships we treasure will end in grief and sadness.
Let’s look at death another way though. What if we altered the Journey? What if we took each moment each day, one at a time, marveling at its beauty? As I sit here writing, I can feel the sun on the back of my neck as a sweet Hello. I’ve greeted my God, thanked Him for this glorious day as well as for the opportunity to get out of bed without pain, the ability to make and enjoy the warm coffee outside while chipmunks run by, looking for their breakfast, and birds sing their songs.
This trip will end. Once again we will load, hitch, and make the drive home. I hope we will have success (no yelling, no crying, no cussing).
As I age from day to day following today’s revelation, my eyes will be open to embrace my loved ones, I will strive to avoid illness that will shorten my life by living as healthy as I can, and exercise my brain to stave off the onset of dementia, if that’s part of my destiny. I plan to allow the Journey to be what I love, not make grumpy steps to a destination with tunnel vision blocking any beauty from my eyes. I will spend as much time as possible loving, accepting love, forgiving, asking for forgiveness, thanking those who have stayed in my life all these years, and stating how I want my life’s journey to end: on paper, on digital media, in conversations, and even in my blog posts: So I don’t miss anything.
What will you make the rest of your Journey?