Grace on the Road

What a day! What looked on the map like a drive that would take less than three hours turned into a daylong odyssey. In the best possible way!

My sweet husband is supporting my desire to visit several of the California Missions. Today we visited three of them before arriving in Santa Barbara. And we encountered a few other delightful surprises along the way as well.

Our morning began with Mass at San Gabriel Mission. The biggest delightful surprise of the day was that the entire Mass was in Vietnamese! I was the only white face in the church. (John had decided to wander and do some photography while I was in Mass.) The cadence of the language I found utterly beautiful. I was warmly received in this dear community with smiles and bows. I could not hold back the tears of joy as I knelt to pray. I could not understand a word of the closing hymn. I had never heard the tune, which had rhythms and tones different from any in my experience. But I understood that it was a song of praise and thanksgiving. How incredible is it to be able to follow an entire liturgy in a totally foreign language with people not of my culture and feel right at home? Is this a foretaste of heaven where people of all tribes and nations and languages will worship together before the throne of God?

We moved on to Mission San Fernando Rey where we spent a couple of hours on a self guided tour of the entire grounds. Did you know that Bob Hope and his family are buried there in a lovely memorial garden? The garden was peaceful indeed, and a wonderful place for contemplation. Yet it really was just an aside. The history of the mission is rich and the entire compound has been beautifully preserved. We learned more here than at any other place about life in California during the 18th and 19th centuries.

One of the most amazing things to me about all of the missions we have visited so far is that, despite their location in the middle of busy urban areas with heavy traffic on every side, the chapels and gardens are places of intense peace. The noise of the city seems to be a world away. I am moved to wonder how I can better carve out such places of peace in my own life.

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A quick stop at a farm market yielded three pounds of the sweetest strawberries I’ve ever had. They were intended for our dinner, but a few never made it that far! Then we were off to San Buenaventura Mission. But…

We had to stop for gas and stumbled upon another delightful surprise, the Camarillo Ranch House. We didn’t go into the house. But we wandered through the gardens, cameras in hand, enjoying the palms and the flowers, the hummingbirds and the lizards, the herbs and the roses. Who could have imagined this gem was hiding right off the freeway?

We didn’t have much time to be at Mission San Buenaventura. We arrived shortly before closing. Nevertheless, the beautiful chapel and gardens were soothing to the soul. How I would love to spend more time just sitting and meditating in these special places.

We had thought to visit the Ventura Botanical Gardens, but instead found Grant’s Park, high in the hills overlooking Ventura. The view was spectacular! The hills (small mountains?) are covered in blankets of yellow flowers. We looked down on orchards and vineyards growing right next to the ocean, tucked into heavily populated areas. Stunning!

Finally we arrived in Santa Barbara, a place dear to John. He was born here and lived here until he was five. It was such a treat to watch his face light up as we visited places he remembered from his childhood. His elementary school is perched high on the side of a hill. Getting to it by car involved a steep climb over winding neighborhood roads. (I never imagined terrain this rugged could be this densely populated!) The view from his classroom looked out over Santa Barbara to the ocean and the Channel Islands. Incredible!

We closed the day wandering through the farmers’ market for which Santa Barbara had closed off two city blocks. We came away with organic olives, almonds, dates, and honey and some flatbread to enjoy for our dinner. Delicious!

So…What a day!!! We survived Los Angeles traffic thanks to John’s excellent driving and especially the good Lord’s protection. We ate delicious fresh produce thanks to God’s bounty. And we saw incredibly beautiful and peaceful places in the heart of the city thanks to God’s grace. Truly, it was a GOOD day!

“Of all God’s gifts to the sighted man, color is the holiest, the most divine, the most solemn.”

—John Ruski

Today I’ve been thinking a good bit about color. Everything here in Santa Barbara seems so intense. Even the muted shades. Even the colors that are cast in shadow. There must be something about the light. I wonder how much fun God is having as He creates anew every day. Is He exuberantly splashing color about? Is He deliberately painting each delicate flower petal? Does He enjoy us oohing and ahhing over each new discovery? Today all the colors, all the dance of light and shadow, seemed to speak to me.

Morning was spent quietly in our room, writing and recovering from the rigors of yesterday. God seems to have designed us for rhythms of activity and rest. The older I get, the more I feel this truth. I am learning that greed in all its forms is not of God. Greed for experiences is no exception. When I try to take in too much, I cannot digest it all. So I need to take breaks. Every so often God slows me down. Every so often I need to rest and reflect. This morning of writing and reflection was when I began to think about color.

And then we ventured out to Mission Santa Barbara. The cool whites of the adobe walls against the deep brown of the beams and the rusty red of the roof tiles are crisp and clean. All of the missions we’ve visited have projected a sense of order and calm, even as one approaches from a distance. The clear sky provides a brilliant blue background which seems to focus not only the eye, but the mind as well.

The mission gardens are places of cool green. They generally are squares open to the sun, surrounded on all four sides by covered tiled walkways known as cloisters. A cup shaped fountain is the central focal point. One walks in the shade, so the colors of the garden, even the brilliant reds and yellows of the flowers, give a sense of refreshment.

The interiors of the chapels are often simple with white walls and tile floors, filled with dark wooden pews. But the altar pieces are elaborate, in typical Spanish style. Yet the muted light sets an atmosphere of quiet reverence. One’s heart is immediately turned to worship as one’s eye is drawn to the crucifix.

The Stations of the Cross at the mission are colorful tile mosaics set amidst olive trees along a meandering path. I found that I preferred these to darker, more somber depictions of the Stations. My imagination was captured and my heart was engaged.

Mount Calvary Monastery is an Anglican Benedictine community next door to the mission. The guest master was a colorful fellow called Jim who graciously allowed us to wander the monastery’s equally colorful grounds filled with palms, succulents, and flowers in every imaginable hue. I was especially moved by a crucifix in one of the gardens depicting Jesus in agony. His shoulders appear to be dislocated and His hands are contorted. I don’t think I’ve ever been so affected by a depiction of the crucifixion. The simple brown and white were stark. Further ornamentation would only have been a distraction.

We moved on to dinner at The Harbor Restaurant on Stearn’s Wharf. Here was a riot of color. The blues of the ocean, the sky, and the mountains. The greens of the palms and the sea grass. The rainbow colors of flags, buildings, and flowers. The whites of sailboats and seagulls. Even the black beans and fresh guacamole on my dinner plate. Everything seemed to be bursting with life. What a jarring contrast to the monastery garden!

My senses as I retire this evening are simply overwhelmed. I am ready for the soothing quiet of our room and a mug of tea, followed by a glass of wine. I need the visual feast as well to process, to reflect, and to allow our good God to speak to my soul what He wants me to absorb of this brilliant day.

“Let me, O let me bathe my soul in colors; let me swallow the sunset and drink the rainbow.”

—Khalil Gibran

This morning we had the privilege of attending Mass at Mission Santa Barbara in the Serra Chapel which is normally closed to visitors.

Apparently there is some controversy in this area about the entire Spanish mission project and the impact it had on the native Chumash culture. Some time back the mission was severely vandalized. The vandalism included decapitating some of the statues. To protect the property and to preserve an atmosphere conducive to worship, it was decided to close parts of the mission to the public. But Mission Santa Barbara is still an active parish. A community of Franciscan friars live at the mission. Mass is held daily. And we were warmly received and escorted through private gardens and into the chapel.

This Mass may have been the highlight of my time in Santa Barbara. Father Larry conducted the Mass in a thoughtful, measured pace. His homily dealt with the fact that joy is a hard won victory. Jesus, he said, is revealed in the ordinariness of our lives rather than in the spectacular. And He is most often recognized by His wounds rather than His crowns. He gave me much to ponder as I am in this unusual season of travel. Where is the ordinariness in my life at the moment? So much seems out of the ordinary. But there is my husband’s tender faithfulness when I am ill. There are the turtles quietly swimming in the pond at the park. The mother duck escorting her two ducklings out of harm’s way along the footpath. There are the mountains gradually appearing out of the mist as the sun burns away the morning fog. I saw the tender care of Henry, a man at Mass who stood up to help the elderly Brother Arturo walk forward to receive Holy Communion, and then escorted him gently and slowly back to his seat. There was the warm greeting we received from Brother Arturo once Mass was ended. And the welcome from Father Larry who was so interested in Kentucky. There was Deanna who took us to another part of the mission to show us a beautiful Della Robbia that had been discovered in pieces in the mission basement and restored by the friars. All of these people were just going about their daily lives. But they touched us with the love of Christ, seen in the ordinariness of life.

We visited a small market John remembered from his childhood to buy some local wine. There we encountered the kindness of Anthony, a Christian from Syria who had come to the United States several years ago because of “some trouble in Syria”. He reminded us to be grateful to live in America, even the parts we think are not so special.

At the Sea Center we met Emma, a volunteer who was a biochemist before she married an American and left her native England. She hauled up a bucket of sediment from the ocean for us and helped us examine it under a microscope. We saw minuscule life, barely visible to the naked eye. God in the ordinary. God present in the things we overlook every day. Emma says her job is “brilliant”!

We thought about eating on the water at Stearn’s Wharf, but decided to look for something a little less expensive. We stumbled upon My Place, a small Thai restaurant tucked into a residential neighborhood. The food was fresh and delicious, the servers were kind, and our appetites were satisfied. Christ was present in the ordinary.

The Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History focused on life in coastal California, specifically around Santa Barbara. It covered everything from Chumash culture to geology, plant and animal life to minerals, land, sea, and air. Here we met Dan and his young daughter Rebecca. The two clearly have a warm, loving relationship. It was a delight to wander behind them through part of the museum, overhearing their conversation and Dan’s loving instruction of his daughter. Christ was present in the ordinariness of daily life.

As we were looking for someplace to enjoy ice cream, I experienced a flair-up with my heart rhythm issues. But John willingly set aside our plans and brought me back to our hotel where I had a short rest. Everything was back to normal, apart from some fatigue, in short order. It amazes me that, complex as they are, our bodies work at all. But they keep right on going, day after day, year after year. Truly, God is present in the ordinary, which is really the miraculous in disguise.

We closed our day by strolling in a local park just to take pictures of the beautiful setting. Here were the turtles and ducks I mentioned earlier, glorifying their Creator just by being turtles and ducks.

What lessons can I learn from them about embracing each ordinary day as it comes and giving thanks to God that He miraculously made me and gave me the incredibly, wonderfully ordinary stuff of life to fill these ordinary days? Can I bring Him glory just by doing what I do daily and recognizing His presence as I do it?

Although I am in a different place than usual, there are people here going about the ordinary business of their days, just as I do back in Kentucky. Do they see God here? Will I see Him in Kentucky when I return home? “Jesus reveals Himself in the ordinary,” said Father Larry. Will I look for Him there?

Lead me on Your path, O Lord!