Just Two Words....

WE'RE HOME!!!!!!!!

Finding God in the Midst of Your Vacation

Ladies and gentlemen, it's the trip that keeps on giving -- except this time, I got big indications that God has been making the journey with us (as He does all the time on all of our journeys).

We pulled away from the Gulf of Mexico this morning at about 8:00 for the long drive back to Northern Virginia, and after a great breakfast at a diner that was one of A's family traditions when she was growing up we headed north. The first several hours were very uneventful -- a drive to Montgomery, an impromptu picnic lunch at a nice park in one of the city's historic sections, and a quick visit to pay our respects at the grave of Hank Williams. We then continued north towards Atlanta and our ultimate destination for the day, Greenville, South Carolina.

Things were going great until we got within a stone's throw of downtown Atlanta, and the engine overheated. Remarkably, I stayed very calm; this is normally something that would really have set me on edge, especially seeing as how it happened in the midst of a traffic jam in one of the busiest interstate highways in the southeastern United States. A. even managed to keep her humor; she handed me the camera and said, "Take a picture; it's part of our vacation!" So I now have a great shot of the hood of our car sitting up, with the beautiful skyline of downtown Atlanta in the background.

At this point, it was then that I started to see God in everything that happened from then on. In order:

- A member of the Georgia Department of Transportation emergency response unit pulled up literally three minutes after we pulled off the road and just as I was calling Triple-A to find out if we needed any help. Because Triple-A drivers cannot accept children in car seats (because of seatbelt laws) we were going to have to try and find a taxi that would come to the midst of a traffic tie-up on I-85 to drive A. and the girls to a hotel. The DOT driver pointed out that about 200 yards ahead of us, a cab driver was sitting on the side of the road out of gas -- and then he drove ahead to make a deal with him that he would provide gas for his cab if he would in turn take A. and the girls to a hotel.

- The cab driver was from the very area in Atlanta to which the car was going to be towed, and he knew exactly how to get there and which hotel to recommend for us -- and after panicking because we had no cash on hand to pay him, it turned out that he was one of the cabs that took credit and debit cards.

- The Goodyear shop that we selected for the repairs (since they're open on Sundays) was already closed when I called to advise them that we were going to be brining it in shortly. However, the manager on duty volunteered to not only wait until the car and I were both there safely (which took nearly two hours after first pulling off the road), but also to drive me to the hotel near the shop where A. and the kids had already registered.

- Numerous random folks, from sheriff's department officers to crews painting and repaving the interstate, kept stopping by to see how they could help (and to offer their own diagnosis of what was wrong).

- Most remarkably, when the Triple-A driver finally arrived, I was greeted with this large quote posted on the back window of his truck: "God will make a way somehow."

He did indeed; now we'll see if he can hang out with the mechanics for a while in the morning to get the car back on the highway.

And for my friends who are members of the clergy, there MUST be a sermon in here somewhere...

The Vacation Continues...

After several days in Selma and Mobile, we arrived on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico this afternoon. The trip down was much less eventful in terms of car repairs and odd conversations -- in fact, we had the opportunity to have some wonderful visits with old friends and eat some great Deep South cooking (when in Mobile, I highly recommend a crabmeat omelette po'boy and a bushwhacker; now THAT'S a great meal). A. and I talked several times about how much we miss living in Alabama, but we also recognize how wonderful our lives are now and how many more opportunities we and our kids have in our current location. Besides, living away from here makes the visits back even more memorable.

The night arrival was very nice, and we got to take the girls out for a stroll on the beach to see the stars and watch the intrepid families out hunting crabs. After several days of miserably hot weather, it was also great to be sitting on the beach with a great breeze blowing in off of the Gulf (also as a friend of mine told me via email during our trip, "It's August; what were you expecting?"). MB had been to the beach before (although it had been several years) so she knew what to expect -- and had a pretty good time. E. on the other hand had never been and was experiencing a child's "first time at the beach" syndrome: Don't put me in the sand! Don't let me touch the water! It's too loud! Oh! OHHHHH! (Note: you should read that in the style of the Sam Kinison for the full effect...)

Now we get to the real relaxation...

National Lampoon's Vacation: The Next Generation

Well, this isn't really as chaotic as the Chevy Chase farce (three farces, actually, two of which were totally unnecessary), but it is the first time our family has been able to take a meaningful vacation in quite some time -- in fact, since our youngest was born. This year, we opted for a trip back to our old haunts on Alabama's Gulf Coast for some fun on the white sandy beaches and visiting with old friends.

Day one was supposed to be a nice drive to lower Tennessee for a night's stay at the Chattanooga Choo Choo hotel, and it appeared like we would meet that goal. However, while checking tire pressure and filling the gas tank along the way I noticed cracks in two of the tires. That one little observation resulted in a two-hour stop at one of the Shenandoah Valley's "folksier" tire and automotive places, although I was extremely grateful that they squeezed into what was already a busy Saturday for them. What was funny was when I approached the desk clerk at the local visitor's center to inquire about a tire dealer in the area; when she said that the tires might be really expensive and I asked how much, she said, "Oh, they might be as much as $80!" I had to laugh to myself before saying, "Ma'am, I live near Washington, D.C. -- that's NOT too much for a tire."

Our short stay in what was apaprently a town founded in 1796, there was certainly cause for a bit of reflection on my part, particularly after talking to one interesting gentleman and overhearing another while sitting in the mechanic's shop. As often as I think about my desire to ensure the financial well-being of the family and planning ahead to make sure they're taken care of, there are still times where I wonder if I'm doing enough (knowing that the answer is always 'no'). I was reminded, though, how blessed we are to be in the position we're in right now when I overheard one gentleman who came in for an auto inspection; when advised that his car failed as the result of a bad tire he had to choose between forking over what was to him a lot of money (which he didn't have) or taking the failed inspection and trying again in 15 days. He opted for taking the failure notice and trying to scrounge up the money for a new tire and walked out, obviously disappointed and embarassed. In retrospect, maybe I should have anonymously stepped in and paid the $45 for the model tire he needed; regardless, I was reminded how financially fortunate we are.

The other gentleman with whom we actually interacted became a bit annoying after a while because he just kept talking and talking and TALKING. It was obvious he was very poor, and the way he told us about bouncing around from one friend's house to another for visits I'm wondering if perhaps his living arrangements were tenuous. In chatting with him, it also became obvious that we had been much more blessed academically as well, and in some ways I felt bad for him (although A. wasn't totally convinced that he wasn't just being a joker). He started talking about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan at one point and mentioned that he had almost bought an Afghan at a yard sale; he said he walked up, saw a sign that read "Afghans - $10," and asked the person running the sale for his Afghan. When he was handed a blanket instead, he started protesting that he didn't want a blanket -- he wanted his Afghan. The salesperson asked, "Well what do you think an afghan is?" and he replied, "I wanted someone to help me around the house and do my laundry."

After our Shenandoah excursion, the rest of the day was uneventful and brought us to Knoxville, Tennessee for some much-needed rest. Next stop, the heart of Dixie - Selma, Alabama!

Back from the Valley

The family returned home today after spending a restful 2-1/2 days with a large part of our church congregation, enjoying the peace and quiet of the Shenandoah Valley. MB really had a great time playing with lots of other kids that she may only see for an hour or so each Sunday; E. charmed everyone with her four-month-old winning personality; and A. and I had the opportunity to spend time with old friends and start relationships with several new friends. It was a great weekend for everyone, and we're so glad that we went.

Alas, like every great vacation, this one had to end, and we returned this afternoon to laundry, resumes, pre-school, yardwork, and the other things that make up large portions of our days. Hopefully this week will be the week that we get the news for which we're waiting; the prayers are continuing, and we'll see what God has in store for us!

Back from Bermuda

After a wonderful five-day cruise from Baltimore to Bermuda and back with my wife, it was back to the real world today (and into the arms of our little girl, who squealed and ran up to us as we came through the door screaming, "Mommy! Daddy!") -- although, as I told Dave over at Pomoxian in his posting today about snow up in his neck of the woods, I can't say I was too disappointed to walk back into cold weather.

If you've never been to Bermuda, I would certainly recommend you make the trip -- it is a truly wonderful island. One of the nice things about the five-day cruise we took with Royal Caribbean is that you actually overnight at your port-of-call, so you have more time to explore than you would on a typical cruise where it's in and out of the port in six or seven hours before moving on to the next stop. The ship we were on, the Grandeur of the Seas, tied up in King's Wharf (pictured above) on the far western end of the island and stayed there for two days, enabling us to really get out on the ground and explore Bermuda. A bulk of our time was spent in the towns of St. George (at the opposite end of island from King's Wharf) and Hamilton (the capital of Bermuda, closer to King's Wharf). Both towns have a great deal to offer to folks, but my wife and I pretty much agreed that we preferred St. George over Hamilton. No matter where we traveled, however, one thing remained constant: Bermudians are among the friendliest and most outgoing folks you will ever meet.

St. George is a very old and charming town with many narrow streets (such as the three pictured above), a majority of which are the same brick and cobblestone lanes that have been there for years. It is a much more laid-back community of quiet shops, restaurants, and homes, and it boasts the oldest continous Anglican congregation in the western hemisphere, St. Peter's Church. There is some wonderful architecture in the community, including a beautiful old (and unfinished) Gothic-style church (below) that was never completed because of a split in the congregation in the late 1870s. (After seeing this building, my wife said two things came to mind: one, that it would make a beautiful setting for a candlelight wedding, and two, that she could see those same candles being used in some sort of Goth ceremony at midnight!) For me, this is one of those areas where I could go and hide for weeks and never get tired of the simple, small-town surroundings and the wonderful shops and restaurants.

Hamilton, the capital of Bermuda, is a much more commercial city with modern buildings, lots of traffic, and lots of noise (although by comparison to large American cities, Hamilton isn't that big -- the entire population of Bermuda is only about 57,000). We discovered that there are regulations in place that limit every family on the island to ownership of only one car, and as a result you see nearly everyone -- from kids to corporate executives in their suit jackets and Bermuda shorts -- riding around on scooters (which, as we also discovered, is also much more economical, since gas is currently selling for about $7 per gallon).

There is a sizeable shopping district on Front Street in Hamilton, down on the waterfront (first below), but not being a huge fan of shopping, I really didn't get into the whole thing. I was more interested in seeing the Bermuda parliament (which was not in session at the time, but which meets in the Sessions House, second below) and the old Anglican Cathedral (yes, there is a theme with me and touring beautiful old churches; last below).

There is absolutely no way that anyone could, in just two days -- or even five days -- could do Bermuda justice; you would need to be there for quite some time to truly take it all in. I know that I certainly haven't done the island nearly enough justice with these photos and the briefest of descriptions of only two of the towns. Post any questions that you may have, and I will certainly try and do my best to answer them.

Back from Chincoteague

The trip to Chincoteague was exactly the type of relaxation that everyone in the family was seeking -- so much so that I even spent very little time reading (and thus was unable to get any further with Tillich or Taylor) and much more time lounging.

Chincoteague is one of those great little vacation spots that seem to be becoming more rare -- a town that attracts tourists but isn't "touristy;" a coastal town that doesn't make you feel like you're at the beach; an old town that has worked to preserve its "oldness." And at just 3-1/2 hours from the metropolitan Washington area, it makes for an easy drive and a great spot for a quick getaway.

Sadly, the main attraction of the island -- the famous Chincoteague ponies, rumored to be descended from stallions that were marooned there following the wreck of a Spanish galleon several centuries ago -- were doing their best to stay hidden. A walk through the wildlife refuge only got us to within a half-mile or so, and I was worried that it would be a great disappointment to my little girl, who had spent several days talking about seeing the "horsies." She didn't seem to mind too much, though, and had about as grand a time as any two-year-old could possibly have. She was even appointed an honorary refuge manager by the ladies working the front counter of the visitor center, and she was most definitely proud of her little badge.

Throughout the island there were pockets of beautiful old homes and ancient cemeteries that seemed to just spring up out of nowhere -- and all of which were labeled by signs that announced what local church group or civic organization was in charge of their upkeep. And finding food was certainly no problem; you couldn't throw a stone anywhere without hitting a seafood restaurant. Some of the best ones were on the situated on the water, and it wasn't rare to find a good table out on the deck where you could enjoy a wonderful view, a nice sea breeze, and -- if the time of day was right -- a beautiful sunset. There were also large numbers of oyster and shrimp boats either tied up or plying the channel -- one of which was probably the Forrest Gumpiest-looking boat I have ever seen. The bartender at the restaurant adjacent to where this boat has been grounded said that he thinks it's been there for at least 25 years, and it has become a great attraction for artists, photographers, and the average curious person like myself.

Finally, and just for kicks, I tried to find the local Episcopal church to see what sort of presence they had in the community. I wasn't able to find a building, and it wasn't until we had been there several hours did we find out that any Episcopalians who might be about were invited to a eucharist in the chapel of the local funeral home!

All in all it was a wonderful trip, and one that we hope to make on a much more regular basis. I definitely felt greatly recharged when I came back -- which was good, since it was back to the grindstone of the job and the household chores!