Author: cometsgirl

An eight-hour trek to and along The Apache Trail scenic drive today, was filled with extraordinary sights, views, and walks. Also filled with bumps and joggles along a barely maintained road, across the high desert of central Arizona. We three journeyed in this awesome place and time, as we journeyed through past memories of our shared lives. There was a sweetness that was filled with conversation, laughter, and silence.

The road twisted and turned through “forests” of saguaros, through canyons whose desert varnished rock walls soared to the sky. Sustained by bowls of chili at Tortilla Flats, we were on our way.

We passed a series of lakes leading to our last lake stop, beautiful Roosevelt Dam and Lake.

The cherry-on-the-top of this scenic day was the bridge across the lake; the longest two lane; single span, steel arch in all of North America. A real beauty.

Evidence of the road trip is seen here:

Exhausted by the sometimes brutal road, and also by serious laughter, this day comes to an early close.

Traveling mercies certainly surrounded us today.

On the way to or from somewhere.

And so I am at this moment, enroute to and from. Coursing over eight states, cruising at 500 miles per hour at 34,000 feet high. From Atlanta to Phoenix.

From the Southern Appalachian mountains to the desert. From a rural town to a large urban city.

From chosen family to family of origin. It takes at least eight states at high altitude to accomplish this.

Besides the distance of miles, is the distance of family birth order and shared experiences. While the family events may have been shared, they carry their own distance.

I’m certain when I arrive and am enfolded in sibling arms, all distance will disappear for a time.

I love gazing out the window only to be rewarded with a moment of “glory”.

And that’s what is ahead for me enroute.

Traveling mercies.

Years ago, when I first began to blog, I had a separate blog for each category of travel in my life– Lent, Advent, Isle of Iona, and so on. It could be confusing to those who read or followed my blog, because each time I embarked on travel, I would need to notify everyone of the blog I would be writing.

Now I just have the one, and clearly the confusion has ended.

All that said, one of my earlier blogs was called “Adventus”.  I used this blog platform for when I traveled each Advent to northern New Mexico. That word, adventus, garnered a few laughs from my traveling friend friend because it seemed kind of “highfalutin “.

 

However, my rector Mary+, wrote a piece just this week about Advent for the church newsletter.  I had to smile when I read the first line…

“Advent – from the Latin root adventus, from the root ad- (to) and venir (come). Adventus is the Latin rendering of the Greek parousia, used to refer to the second coming of Christ.

Makes me feel just a tad vindicated. Just for good measure, this photo was used for my first Adventus blog.  Fitting.

All this to say, I am in a period of preparation.  Not just in anticipation of the season of Advent which begins in a few days – that time when we enter into a period of preparation and watchfulness for the second coming of Christ, but also for my upcoming travel to Arizona and Texas.

I’m reuniting with my sister and brother in Arizona.  We three will set off on a variety of adventures.  I recall when we were children, we were often left to our own devices and imagination, whether in our neighborhood or on family trips. I suspect as we are once again left to our own imagination, we shall make every moment together a unique kind of adventure.

In addition to packing and travel preparations, I’m preparing my soul for wonder, for delight, and for the love that comes from the family history we share.

Traveling mercies.

What exactly is “oldering”?  I recently heard this term for the first time, and in the context I heard it, it was about being older, not being old.  The message is clear to me, however; it implies a progression toward older, even old.

Of course, it may not actually be a word, but it should be. It fits this in between, progression time.

I don’t imagine any of us want to think about growing old. It feels like a time of lesser abilities, of restrictions, and the final part of our journey here on earth.

But “oldering” feels okay to me.  It feels like I still have a lot of life in me- lots of steps ahead, many opportunities still to come, and journeys to make.

Still, there are some slow-downs, some detours, even some changes. But in this stage of oldering, I’m still on the move.

May Sarton says, “One thing is certain, and I have always known it – the joys of my life have nothing to do with age. They do not change. Flowers, the morning and evening light, music, poetry, silence, the goldfinches darting about.”

And from Mary Oliver, “Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? Am I no longer young and still not half-perfect? Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is mostly about standing still and learning to be astonished.”

Just think about that idea of learning to be astonished. Just what does it take to be astonished? And do we have to learn how? Sadly, I think some do. Not me.  One of my favorite words is “gobsmacked”.  I learned that word on a trip to the Isle of Iona, Scotland. While it’s considered a slang word in the British Isles, I find it an extraordinary way to describe being astonished.  Just look around – and look outside ourselves.

Just now I stepped outside my front door and saw this sight- a reminder that I have astonishing sights within steps of my front door.

Or this on my almost-daily walk.

A recent facial skin surgery got me thinking about the tapestries of our bodies. Just as the landscape of a tree provides details of the life of a given tree, so too, does our body provide a tapestry of a life lived into oldering.

“A gray head is a crown of glory; It is found in the way of righteousness.”  Proverbs 16:31.

Oldering indeed.

For the past several days I have been in the midst of a community that endured significant flooding from Hurricane Harvey. Northwest Houston. Driving through neighborhoods I saw remnants of people’s lives strewn on the front lawns, still waiting to be carted away 5 weeks after the flooding. I saw, too, the destroyed lawns left after the debris has been scraped up and carted off.

I also saw resilience.

I saw it in conversations I’ve had this week with those who had to flee and with those who took them in. Sometimes taking in the pets as well.

I saw it in Beth’s church Sunday morning as parishioners gathered for worship in community.

And I saw it in a fig tree growing in Beth’s backyard. A backyard that was under 5 feet of water for several days.

Now sprouting new leaf growth. Now producing new figs.

Each night during my time here, I have fallen into bed with great tiredness – after unpacking, moving boxes and rearranging furniture. And each morning I have awakened rested and restored. I find I am resilient as well, ready to begin again.

Now as I prepare to board my flight home to Georgia, I realize that I have made a kind of home here as I see how I have helped set up a new home – once again – for my friend.

Traveling mercies.

After an overnight in Atlanta, with an already-packed fresh suitcase exchanged for my Iceland bag, I’m back at the airport headed to Houston. Thanks to Evan for the shuttle to the hotel last night and the bag exchange, I’m set for another journey. 

I’m traveling with Beth to her temporary home to help with move-in after the recent Hurricane Harvey flooding. This feels all too familiar, having done the same thing with her 17 months ago. 

We’re trying out a travel perk I have because of a credit card I carry. Minute Suites at Hartsfield.  It’s a place of quiet for one hour. Bring your own food and drink. Time’s just about up. 

Iceland served as an escape for a couple of weeks. Today it’s clear the escape is over. 

From a recent Becca Stevens post:

If we can endure, be sure in faith, and keep our hearts open to God, we will find that no matter what, our lives have been blessed. We will feel that unbelievable gift, that through any hardship we will be graced with God’s presence. The hardships, we discover, are not tests of our faith, but part of the journey of being alive and of having a sacred heart.

Traveling mercies. 

I’m never ready for travel to end, and this trip to Iceland is no exception. It helps to know my intention is to return. And to know, too, that I will have other travel journeys in the interim. 

Up before dawn, with about an hour’s drive to the airport, in the dark–we realized this is what it would be like to travel here in the winter. Dark most of the time. That would be hard. 

I continue to be grateful for the good fortune I have when I travel.. Flying Saga (first)!class on Icelandair allowed me to skip the long security lines and proceed quickly through security check and on to the Saga lounge. Comfortably  seated with cappuccinos flowing, I waited the two hours for my flight. 

Bussed from the terminal to our aircraft, we had a most enjoyable conversation with our driver as we waited to board the bus. It’s a delight to stop and chat with those whose language I do not speak. I’m no longer surprised to find, however, MY language is spoken. 

Dining was pretty neat. It’s possible on Icelandair to preorder the meal, kind of guaranteeing you’ll get what you will enjoy. 

A highlight of the flight to JFK was flying over Greenland. Just Beautiful!

Descending into JFK provided interesting patterns from on high. 

Now settled into Delta’s lounge for several hours, I’m back in text mode, warm weather, and thinking of tasks ahead. 

For right now, though, I’m still on Iceland time. U.S. time will come soon enough. 

Traveling mercies. 

It’s said one should live each day as if it were your last. 

I’m thoughtful about this today because it is my last full day in Iceland. A trip I was for a time, not confident would happen. 

I’m also thoughtful about this because it’s my traveling friend’s birthday. And that has me thinking about the measure of our days. 

I’ve been given a gift of years, of days, of hours.  I’m certain I have not lived each to its fullest. I suspect that is how it is with most of us. 

So today I’ve been intentional about how I spend this last day and how I’ve honored and celebrated my friend’s anniversary of her birth.  

Celebrating alongside her as strangers learned of her birthday and reacted with gifts of hospitality was joyous. The server at breakfast who presented a decorated pastry; the server in a coffee shop who poured  cups of coffee for us to enjoy – his gift.  And shopkeepers and chefs as we went about our day all giving their good wishes. 

It was in that context that I wanted to be certain this final day in Iceland was planned with intention, with room for surprise. 

Gifted with mostly a beautiful and rain-free day, we walked some good distances, crisscrossing the city.  

I’m struck by the many wonderful conversations with all manner of people whose paths crossed with mine for a few minutes or so this day alone. It’s so obvious to me that caring words and intentional conversation become a gift to both the hearer and the speaker. Connections made that make travel so much richer. 

It doesn’t have to just during travel. That’s too limiting. For me, my intent is to have more conversation in a meaningful and meaning-filled manner. 

This day is done. While I may not have lived it as if it were my last, I did indeed live it to the fullest. 

Today we left the city and headed southeast. Our primary destination was Þingborg ullarvinnsla wool workshop, about an hour away. 

We had stopped there during the 2016 trip to Iceland and had wanted to return. Part of the building houses Gallery Floi, where a glass and ceramic artist creates her work. While Beth looked at yarn, I visited with the jeweler and a friend. They are Viking women and are part of a group which does Viking era reenactments. Conversation with them was fascinating. 

A waterfall visit was on my mind, so we drove a bit further south to Urriðafossvegur. Originating from three glaciers, more water flows over these falls than any other Icelandic waterfall. 

The return drive was filled with sights so extraordinary we had to pull over again and again.

After all these driving sights, we stopped for a delicious lunch of soup and bread. 

Returning to the hotel for brief rest, we set out walking once again. We ended the day with a walk in rain and wind to view a sculpture by Jón Gunnar Árnasonpiece placed prominently along the water, titled The Sun Voyager. 

Now as this day closes, I’m so very grateful to have the means and the might to travel, the feet to carry me, the mind to find my way, and the ability to be surprised and delighted. 

Those who know me, know I’m quite fond of being upgraded. It happens primarily when flying. I’ve been mostly loyal to one airline, and the honors level I carry sometimes results in a seating upgrade. It’s been said that “no one appreciates being upgraded more than I”.

That’s true. 

I certainly don’t deserve it any more than the next flyer, but I love it when it happens. 

This morning I’ve awakened in a top floor room. 

Because of problems with the shower in the room -SCALDING hot water- we found ourselves upgraded upon return to the hotel last night. Bags packed in a flurry, we were escorted to a corner suite on the top floor, complete with balcony. Wow!

Another abundant breakfast offering this day. 

Becca Stevens suggests this is the beginning of the seasons of gratitude. She offers a universal prayer of thanks. 

“Gracias. Thank you. Shukraan, Toda. Dhanyavaad. Xièxie. Merci. Asante. Grazie. Shukriyah. Ke a leboga.”  To that I add, Þakka þér fyrir.