On the Road...Again?

I have a confession to make. I really, really don't like to travel.

There. I said it.

I consider traveling to be a gigantic hassle.

Our sweet little house has a comfortable bed, good things stored on the DVR, and a hot water heater the size of a linebacker, so it never runs cold.

I use a CPAP machine, so if we travel, I have to carefully tote it with me to my temporary home. Afterwards, the remnants of the cloying hotel air freshener remain in the hosing for days.

Like many food-allergic people, I choose not to eat in restaurants. The risk of cross-contamination is real and serious. There's no point in being excited about Chicago deep-dish pizza or authentic N'awlins gumbo. I ain't gonna get to eat it. So, if Ben and I travel, we find a Kroger as soon as we get to town, I buy what I need, and I lug around my food each day. (In France, just so you know, it's called "Le Kroger.")

Shopping can be fun, although my budget leans more towards Belk than Bulgari. And if you've seen one Belk, you've seen 'em all.

Let's not talk about the last time those hotel bedspreads were washed.

Or the carpet. Definitely not the carpet.

I know, I know - I sound pretty bratty, don't I? Curmudgeonly. Ungrateful. A wet blanket.

(Why do the blankets at hotels always feel wet, by the way? Don't their Home Depots sell Damp-Rid?)

Occasionally, traveling becomes a necessity, like last week when Ben and I went to the University of Virginia Medical Center for his appointment with a short-gut specialist.

Ben has been doing well, very slowly gaining weight and holding on to hydration by eating a strict diet. His lab values continue to be normal, praise the Lord!

We wanted to find a doctor who specializes in short-gut to make sure we were doing the right things at home to build up Ben. UVA was our choice.

Ben's doctor was thorough and absolutely competent but seemed a wee perplexed by our proactivity. We've witnessed this before. Often, doctors are taken aback when we show up to try to prevent a problem rather than treat one. (What that says about the American medical tradition of symptom-based care, I'll leave up to you to decide.)

In any event, the doctor was pleased with Ben's progress and gave him a few suggestions on how to maximize his weight gain. He also wanted Ben to get an occasional internal scan, just to monitor the areas where he's had trouble before. Mostly, he emphasized that gaining healthy weight would just take time.

What an encouragement! We prayed and (I) cried as we walked back to the car, humbled by God's goodness. In my mind, this was the perfect benediction to our trip and a reason to pack up and go home already since we had already taken a little tour around the city.

The University of Virginia Medical Center is located in Charlottesville. You will remember their history was recently tarnished by an evil man. He killed a woman who was lawfully protesting against some white supremacists that had marched into town.

Every person we encountered in Charlottesville was remarkably courteous and friendly. I wondered if they had always been like that. Did they made a conscious choice after this despicable act, to choose to be welcoming and forgiving? I didn't know. In comparison, so many of us in East Tennessee are hotheaded, volatile, wild. I thought of relatives and ancestors and our tendency towards foolhardy and rash actions. I'm not sure how I would react if, Lord forbid, something similar happened at home.

This is the one drawback to my travel ban. It's easy to forget there is a world of people out there doing things differently.

The next day was my birthday. I continued to think about similarities and differences while Ben drove us 2 hours north to Washington, D.C. When Ben proposed we extend our trip by an extra day to go there, I agreed enthusiastically. I hadn't been to D.C. since my 5th grade Safety Patrol trip. However, trying to decide how to go and where to go only made me tired and cranky. Plus, it was going to be 95 degrees that day. My long-suffering husband, as he is wont to do, plucked the map from my hands and finished planning our excursion himself. Whether he did this lovingly as a favor to me or just so he could have 10 minutes of silence, I don't know, but truly, it was a gift.

I'm not sure what's going on in this picture, but I was excited to be there.

We parked the car at the first Metro station we passed and took the train into town. Within 45 minutes, we were standing in the middle of gorgeous Union Station, surrounded by thousands of busy people. My bright pink backpack, comfortable shoes, and preparatory umbrella assured all that we were tourists.

What I wanted to do was visit the Museum of American History. After we got off the bus, I video chatted with my mom while on the National Mall. Then we toured the museum, which was beautiful and affecting.

The cafe was inside, next to the entrance. I unpacked my food and ate while I watched people enter the museum. Hmm...lunch at the Smithsonian with my husband, on my birthday. A great way to start my 41st year.

I studied each person as they walked past. Some looked like me, some did not. Each of us was different, but no person was better than another. We are loved equally, and incredibly, because Jesus gave His life for all. All the people who streamed through the doors on my birthday. All the ones who visited the day before. All the ones who will visit next week. All the ones who will never visit. Even all the hotheaded hillbillies.

I agree with Dorothy. There's no place like home.

But sometimes, travel is necessary, to remind me of my incredible blessings and the love of my Savior. One of these days, I'll go on to my eternal destination.

That's an expensive ticket and a long journey, but I'm not worried. Someone else has already paid for it.

July 6, 2019

Dolly Would

Rest, Relax, Repeat