RoadTrip Journal 08.20.05

The terrible thing, the almost impossible thing, is to hand over your whole self – all your wishes and precautions – to Christ.

-CS Lewis

I’m now in Denver, spending a week with my cousin Jim and his family. It’s been wonderful getting to know him again after 20-some years, as well as meeting his wife and children. It’s a little hard to make the transition from cousin Jimmer to Dr Chapman, but I’m managing with only the occasional snicker. It’s been wonderful investing in these relationships, and though it’ll be that much harder to drive away from people I’m growing so connected to, I’m committed to the concept that ultimately the loving is worth the losing. As I mentioned in my previous letter, I was struggling to find temp work in Southern Colorado. I eventually decided to work at the Royal Gorge Bridge and Park where my mother works. It’s a tourist attraction including the highest suspension bridge over water (1/4 mile), the longest aerial tram (1/2 mile), and the steepest incline railway (from the rim of the gorge down to the Arkansas River), a favorite of John Wayne’s when he filmed movies in the area. It’s a regular playground of horrors for the height-aversive like me. I had, quite possibly, the two best positions in the park. For two days I was the photographer for the Old Time Photos, and the airbrush tattoo artist the other two. Both allowed me to nurture my creativity. On the flip side, I haven’t had so small a wage since I was 16. It was very humbling, and I’m sure will seem a much more romantic chapter in my trip in hindsight!

One layer of this journey is the exploration of the limitations of my character and strength. Two events of significance have occurred in the last month. The first is that I hardly complain of my intolerance to heat unless the temperature reaches triple digits (Side Note: I’m heading for Cincinnati’s heat and humidity next, so I may need to revoke this statement at a later date.) Second, I had set a goal for myself to come back through camp at the end of my trip to try the King Swing, a contraption with a harness that allows one to be raised 85’ into the trees, then released, hurtling through a clearing in the forest. The Royal Gorge has a more extreme version called the Skycoaster. It’s 100’ high and actually swings you out over the gorge at an approximate height of 1300’. Long story short, I did it…twice. I have photos to prove it, for you disbelievers. I used all the other features of the park to incrementally desensitize myself to the concept of height, as well as some other cognitive therapy tricks I learned in school. So, I’m not sure if I’m still afraid of heights or not. We’ll see when the next unplanned height obstacle presents itself…

As far as the direction God is leading me, I can only say that I’m not feeling significantly pulled back toward California, but still feel the draw of points unknown. I don’t know how long that will last, and I have no difinitive plans yet, but I’m still very excited to see all the friends and family who are yet to be visited. I miss you California people, and hope you are well.

RoadTrip Journal 07.23.05

Walkabout: a ritual in which one goes on a solitary journey through the wilderness in an attempt to learn more about his/ her own character and strength.

My journey began July 5th visiting my children and grandsons in Ontario, and nieces and nephews in San Bernardino. It was wonderful to spend time with these children of my heart who I had the privilege to raise and love as my own. From there I drove up to camp in Bass Lake where I was able to both reconnect with old friends and meet new staff. I was blessed to spend my first weekend with Brandon, a friend made last summer. We spent a day exploring Yosemite, and had a BBQ dinner at the historic Wawona Hotel. We spent another day in the tranquil setting of Soquel, a property owned by the camp. His final evening we drove back into camp and went out to dinner with the staff who were off for the night. It was such a blessing to share long leisurely conversations with them. I spent the next few days alone at the cabin in Soquel, taking a Sacred Pause. It’s something I do before each birthday, reflect on the past, look forward to the future, recalibrate whatever’s off. It’s a time to check in and see if I’m on the path I want to be on. As Parker Palmer says, “Is the life I’m living the life that wants to live in me?”

I then headed to Colorado via 2-lane highway through Yosemite, past Mono Lake (amazing!), and eventually (due to a wrong turn that ended up in a 6-hour detour) near Telluride and through the Red Mountain Pass. That pass was the most terrifying drive I’ve EVER made, at least 10 times worse than the drive to Arrowhead. It seemed like a mule trail someone decided to call a road, and no one had the sense to disagree. It was two lanes with a sheer cliff on the passenger side. There was about a foot of pavement past the white line of my lane, then another foot of gravel, then the abyss. Raise your hand if you know how I feel about heights. Yep, it’s a big fear for me, another one of my “things”. You woulda laughed if you’d seen me hugging the center line. My head was nearly sticking out the driver’s window as I leaned my whole body as far away from that edge as possible. Did I mention there were no guard rails and the speed limit was 10mph, AND it was dusk?!!! I couldn’t even cry because I was so scared that my vision would be blurred.

Not to get too philosophical, but look at the big picture of my life in comparison. Because of that detour I saw some amaaaazingly beautiful countryside, historic towns, and wildlife. Sure, I practically died from terror, but I didn’t. I really do look at life as a rollercoaster. Sometimes those drops bring my stomach into my throat and I scream, but it’s exhilarating too. The road from Mono Lake had those kind of dips and drops, and I alternately screamed and laughed driving through them. I’m not sure why, but for me, there’s something deeply therapeutic and restorative about driving alone across country. I was so energized and soothed by the experience. It was amazingly fabulous.

So, after 3 (instead of the 2 planned) days, I made it to my mom’s in Cañon City, Colorado, just south of Colorado Springs. Mom and her husband have made things very comfortable for me. They’re trying to lure me to stay here. I’m not a desert girl, but it sure is gorgeous, and a 2-3 bedroom house with an expansive yard rents for a jaw-dropping $600 which doesn’t do much to appease my resentment for Orange County. I’m staying until I have enough funds for the next leg of the trip. Unfortunately the economy is pretty depressed, so I’m struggling to find work here too. And, there’s this record-breaking heat-wave going on. It’s been 108˚ all week. Again, raise your hand if you know how I feel about heat. Yep, HATE it!!!

Well, that’s about it for now. You’re in my thoughts and prayers. I’ll let you know when more develops.

RoadTrip Journal 07.16.05

What might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.

Lemony Snicket

A Series of Unfortunate Events

For those of you who are in the latest loop, this may be redundant, but I’ve been very sporadic in keeping the details flowing, so this should get everyone up to speed. For the last year, my life has been very focused as I completed my BA in psychology, maintained pre-adoption visits every weekend with a 10-yr old boy, Abel, and wound up moving around quite a bit, resulting in 98% of my belongings going into storage. I painfully decided to leave my wonderful job at Yosemite Sierra Summer Camp to finalize the adoption process over the summer in order to give Abel some transition time before starting school in the fall. Well, God had other plans, and within 36 hours of finding a wonderful replacement for me at camp, the adoption plans were terminated as a relative stepped forward to care for Abel.

Needless to say, my heart dropped. I gave up something I loved for someone I loved, and ended up with neither. At times I second guess myself, but I have to go forward, knowing that I’ve been in pursuit of God’s will all along, so it’s feasible that this “hiccup” is all part of His plan for something new.

Having stepped out into the inky black abyss of my future, there was nothing to do except begin trying to open every door within reach. I had several fabulous interviews for interesting positions with strong companies. None of them, however, resulted in a job offer, (thought provoking stuff for someone who’s pretty much always been offered whatever position I sought.) Unable to pry open any of the doors I thought God was leading me through, I decided to take advantage of my newfound freedom (being homeless and unemployed has its advantages.)

If you know me even a little, you know that relationships and community are right up there with oxygen and water for me. So, since one of the great longings of my heart is to connect with my community, and so many of the people I love are scattered across the country and I haven’t had the time to visit in several years, I thought a road trip was in order. This seemed the better option to shrieking hysterically about my circumstances and the absolute terror of feeling so isolated and vulnerable. But, believe me, at times that option has real appeal!

I would be lying to say that I have no doubts about this trip. I wonder if it’s a smokescreen to cover the panic I feel at not knowing where the next step is for me. Is it just a reaction to the sense of helplessness and hopelessness I feel at being unemployed, homeless and vulnerable? Should I just turn around, buckle down, eat crow and get on with it? I don’t know. I have conflicting feelings to be sure. All I can say is that I’m continuing to call out for guidance. As always, your prayers are coveted particularly as I examine what Aristotle said, “One’s purpose is merely a matter of knowing where one’s talents and the needs of the world intersect.”

Tomorrow I head to Colorado.