We spent the day driving home from the Carolinas today. The kids do fairly well in the car; we managed the trip with only two short videos spread throughout the eight hour drive.
I actually kinda like long days of driving. Sure, they’re easier without munchkins and their small bladders, ear infections, and teething, but I like the driving. Maybe it’s the years of growing up with a road trip family, spending Dad’s two-week vacation through the southeast or out west, seeing as many grand American sights as we could.
As I took over the driving mid-morning, God blessed me. Everyone fell asleep shortly after I started; the sun was hazy; the traffic light. I cruised at 80 listening to Sara Groves and Mindy Smith and to my boy quietly snoring through his congestion. Uninterrupted time to sing and watch the scenery, to think and pray for people and situations.
It’s so good to get away from the normal view, even if it’s only a few states. Along I-95, in the gray, in-between days of March, the trees still bear the signs of their dying, shedding, falling with the new, fresh greens, peaches, and reds of sprouting, budding, growing. And through drought and winter, the dark evergreens stand faithful and constant, even as scars of fire are visible. Below their boughs, another row of pines--their needles delicate looking and fragile, a different color and texture--emerges from their dropped seeds.
All the while, Sara Groves is singing: “You walk in the room, you look out the window and something there leaves you breathless. You say to yourself, it’s been such a while since felt that and feels like it might be hope.”
I actually kinda like long days of driving. Sure, they’re easier without munchkins and their small bladders, ear infections, and teething, but I like the driving. Maybe it’s the years of growing up with a road trip family, spending Dad’s two-week vacation through the southeast or out west, seeing as many grand American sights as we could.
As I took over the driving mid-morning, God blessed me. Everyone fell asleep shortly after I started; the sun was hazy; the traffic light. I cruised at 80 listening to Sara Groves and Mindy Smith and to my boy quietly snoring through his congestion. Uninterrupted time to sing and watch the scenery, to think and pray for people and situations.
It’s so good to get away from the normal view, even if it’s only a few states. Along I-95, in the gray, in-between days of March, the trees still bear the signs of their dying, shedding, falling with the new, fresh greens, peaches, and reds of sprouting, budding, growing. And through drought and winter, the dark evergreens stand faithful and constant, even as scars of fire are visible. Below their boughs, another row of pines--their needles delicate looking and fragile, a different color and texture--emerges from their dropped seeds.
All the while, Sara Groves is singing: “You walk in the room, you look out the window and something there leaves you breathless. You say to yourself, it’s been such a while since felt that and feels like it might be hope.”
1 comment:
Now I want to go on a road trip too! Glad to hear things went well. What all did you do in the Carolinas? We're thinking of going somewhere over spring break, but can't settle on a location.
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