Grace on the Road

The day has almost arrived. The bags are packed. The last minute list of chores is nearly completed. This evening we pick up the rental car. And tomorrow morning, Lord willing, we hit the road. This first leg of the journey will take four days. We’ll return home for just a couple of days, and then set out once more with plans to be away at least six weeks.

This is a long time to be away from home for someone who really doesn’t enjoy travel. So why go? I suppose there could be many answers. Saint Augustine, in the late fourth century, wrote, “People travel to wonder at the heights of mountains, at huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars…and they pass by themselves without wondering. Indeed, the world is full of wonder. But the crowning glory of all God’s creation are those He fashioned in His own image, we humans, we “earth creatures”.  (“Human” is derived from the Latin humus meaning “earth, ground”.) Isn’t it curious that we, who were created to reflect God’s glory, are so common, so ordinary, so “earthy”, that we often miss the extraordinary wonder of who we are? I wonder, in missing, in overlooking the miracle of every person God places in our path, do we also often miss God Himself? In failing to notice ourselves, do we fail to notice the One who is always at work within us?

In Romans 8:29, Paul wrote, “For those whom [God] foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son…”. Imagine! God’s desire for each one of those who belong to Him is to make us like Christ!

It is patently obvious to anyone who knows me even a little bit that I have a long way to go before I reach Christlikeness. It has been quite a journey to this point. And I know there is a very long road ahead. And I am a pilgrim on this road, like Christian in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress or Much Afraid in Hannah Hurnard’s
Hind’s Feet on High Places.

In The Soul of a Pilgrim, Christine Valters Paintner writes, “Journeys are movements from one place to another, often to a place that is unfamiliar, foreign, and strange. In fact, the Latin root of the word pilgrim, peregrini, means ‘strange’ or ‘stranger’. The journey to become a pilgrim means becoming a stranger in the service of transformation.”

How I long for whatever transformation my sweet Lord desires to work in me! Three themes have come to mind as I have prayed over this upcoming journey. All, it seems, might facilitate such transformation by positioning my heart and soul in a posture most receptive to God’s work within. They are seeking, listening, and surrender.

And so I set out on this journey in search of the God who is always present, but often hidden. I want to allow plenty of time and space to be still and listen. And, when I sense His leading or direction, when I notice that still, small voice, I desire to surrender. My prayer for this pilgrimage is, “Lead me on Your path, O Lord.” Amen!

I’ve never really had a burning desire to visit Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I was here for an afternoon once with my high school youth group. And I drove through a few years back with John and his mom. I somehow, from this brief exposure, got the idea that this place was all the things I’m definitely NOT looking for in a vacation spot. I had preconceived the notion that it would be crowded and tacky. Truth be told, I had a rather stuck up, snobbish attitude.

But guess what! God is actually in this place, too! All I had to do was look for Him! First He showed up in bringing us safely to Gatlinburg through some very heavy rain. The redbud trees were in bloom all through the mountains, beautiful splashes of color even through the grey of the downpour. By the time we got to our room, the sun was trying to come out, and God gave us a lovely display of His glory peeping through the clouds over the mist settled in the hollows of the hills.

He sent some wonderfully sweet folks to touch us with their kindness in unexpected ways. The young father on the elevator gave us a blessing as he left with his daughter. Opal at the wine store offered to keep our packages for us while we strolled downtown. Carl, a fellow visitor, paid for our whiskey tasting. And Josh, our waiter at dinner, brought us some extras with our dinner, items in which we’d shown interest but hadn’t ordered, all on the house. I even came across a beautiful pair of mallards making their way upstream through some whitewater by swimming close to the rocks. (I think there must be a metaphor there for me about navigating life by staying close to the Rock!)

As I’m wrapping things up this evening and reflecting on the day, I just can’t help thinking how wrong I was to have prejudged Gatlinburg. Yes, there is plenty of tacky here. Yes, it can be crowded. But it is in the heart of beautiful country, full of beautiful people, and harboring hidden glimpses of the goodness and loveliness of the Creator wherever one looks if one only has eyes to see.

How often, I wonder, do I approach other people in the same spirit as I approached Gatlinburg? How often do I hold expectations before taking time to get to know someone? How often do I prejudge based on reputation or appearance? What loveliness might I find in others if I took the time to look beneath the surface, to peer into the hidden nooks and crannies of their lives?

I picked up a book just before we left called Holy Noticing. I’m intrigued by this idea. What lovely gifts has the good God put in my path? How much might I be blessed if I will only notice?

One especially sweet gift I am looking forward to receiving tomorrow morning is Eucharist at St. Mary’s…right next door to where we are staying! Truly, God is so good!!!

The Carpenters famously sang, “Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.” Although it was a catchy tune, I never really understood the sentiment behind the lyrics. I’ve always loved rainy days. And, for years, my day of Sabbath rest, my favorite day of the week, has been Monday. I can think of little I enjoy more than a quiet day, snuggled under a quilt, with hot tea and books (and perhaps a fire in the fireplace), with the sound of falling rain as gentle background music.

Today was such a day in Gatlinburg. The sky was overcast as I walked next door to Mass just before 8.

By the time I got back, John was ready to go for a walk. I elected to return to our room instead, and spent several hours sitting on our balcony, reading, praying, and watching the clouds roll in over the mountain. I’ve been fascinated watching the changes. The sky has gone from blue with a variety of white clouds to grey with billows of smoke-like clouds rising from behind the mountain. As I write, there is gentle, steady rain, and the mountain is blanketed with cotton wool mist. The balcony door is open, so I can listen to the rain. And I am snuggled under a quilt. All is calm. All is lovely.

Christine Valters Paintner has written:

This is why we journey,
to retrieve our lost intimacy with the world,
every creature a herald of poems
that sleep in streams and stones.

The last two days already have been such a gift, but not really in the way I expected. I had thought perhaps we would be driving through the Smokeys, appreciating some of the spectacular natural beauty. Instead, I have stayed in our room, in the heart of downtown Gatlinburg, and been blessed by the rain, the changes on the mountain, and the gentle ripple of the stream beneath our balcony. I’ve had hours to notice…just to notice. The delicious warmth of mint tea. The cable car making its way slowly up and down the mountain, even in the rain. How the clouds nestle in the pockets of the hills. The songs of the birds. The dogwood just about to burst into bloom. The changes of light. And the gentle music of the rain. Always the rain.

How many poems, I wonder, sleep in the streams and stones, the mountains and clouds, the trees and flowers I will encounter on the way? How many will I take time to notice? How much “lost intimacy with the world” will I be able to retrieve? And in so doing, how closely will I be drawn to the heart of the Great Poet who placed all these wonders just so, gifts to be discovered with delighted surprise by those He loves?

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page,” wrote Saint Augustine of Hippo. Today I feel as though I’ve been blessed to read a whole chapter! Soli deo gloria!!!

Here are a few photos taken from our balcony at various points throughout the day. Hard to believe it’s the same view, isn’t it? I especially love the variety of clouds in the first one, taken about 9AM.