The street sign for “I Dream of Jeannie Lane” in Cocoa Beach, Florida (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I remember when I was younger and our family would embark on a road trip, a car ride that could last five minutes or five hours, my sisters and I would sing a chorus that consisted of “Are we there yet?” And “How much longer until we’re there?” Wherever “there” happened to be.
My patient parents would offer words to pacify us for as long as they were able. Until one of us started the trio again. Often times it became a solo. Apparently, my voice felt the need to be heard more frequently, demanding immediate arrival.
In fact, I had often wished I were Samantha from the TV Show Bewitched, so I could wriggle my pointed little nose and POOF! We would instantly arrive. Or Barbara Eden in I Dream of Jeannie. All it would take would be to cross my arms in front of me, close my eyes, nod my head, and the magic of time travel would have happened in the blink of an eye.
Instead, I irritated my sisters to no end belting out the same few words to a single song over and over and over. I remember especially liking the song “Delta Dawn,” much to my sisters’ dismay. Or “This Little Light of Mine.” They didn’t seem to mind that one as much so it usually wasn’t as much fun.
Yes, I realize I’m dating myself, revealing that somewhere along that journey I wished away my youth into someone somewhat…older. Though I prefer to call it seasoned rather than older.
The point being, things haven’t changed a whole lot. Except the age factor. But I won’t get caught up in such minor details.
I still find myself impatiently waiting for the red light to turn green.
For the following week to finally arrive landing me a day off from work.
When that day off finally arrives, I watch the clock for a certain time of the day that a certain fun event is scheduled to happen.
Or eagerly waiting for winter to turn into the rebirth of spring, then into the warm lazy days of summer that turn out to be not very lazy at all. In fact, before I know it I’m falling into the trees turned yellow, red, and the beauty that is my favorite season of all.
And it’s there I wish I could linger a little longer. Have a little more time to walk, breathing in the smells of the fall air, listening to the leaves crunch beneath my shoes, coming in from a cool, brisk afternoon of outdoor fun to be greeted by the warm, comforting aroma of a roast in the crockpot wafting toward me as I open the door.
Autumn (Photo credit: blmiers2)
And then its the excitement of the first snow. And the cycle begins its…cycle.
As I become more seasoned in life, I’m learning instead of waiting for time to fly by at a red light, I can take advantage of that rare moment when time stands still. When I don’t have anything demanding my immediate attention, and listen to an audio book. Or offer up a prayer for a friend in need. Or a prayer of thanksgiving for all of the good things I have that don’t get the attention they deserve when I’m so busy.
I’m learning, heaven forbid, that I can actually sit in silence. Paying attention to each slow, easy breath. Enjoying the bird that flies right in front of my window, free.
I’m beginning to learn that I enjoy sitting still. And silence. And sitting still in silence.
I’m becoming aware of all of the opportunities I have in which to pay God the reverence due.
Trusting that I am exactly where God wants me to be at that exact moment in time.
In the dead cold of winter, I’m learning to focus on the purity of the white snow, appreciating the warmth of the sun on my face, or the way the sun makes the snow sparkle crystals, looking like a layer of diamonds strewn across the backyard.
I’m learning that I’ve never truly arrived at the destination, because the destination I set keeps changing.
Rather, it’s about the journey.
As I get…seasoned…in life, I become aware of my surroundings exactly where I am, doing exactly what I’m doing, and appreciate that I am there. At that exact moment. With an opportunity to experience that exact moment in life.
To practice perseverance through an ongoing trial.
I’m learning that it’s in the journey that we truly live, experiencing the flair and tasting the flavor of life.
It’s in the journey that memories are made, obstacles overcome, lessons learned.
Heaven (Photo credit: adyyflickr)
And it’s in the journey that I learn to truly enjoy the living. The living that prepares me for my ultimate destination.
The only destination I need ever to strive for. Home with God.
Peace to You.