Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Travel

Vacationing with kids: top five reflections

So, if you’ve been visiting the blog recently and noticing a blatant lack of new material, I offer you this explanation: we’ve had family in town and were getting ready to go on vacation. We traveled the east coast and are now on vacation.

I have much I want to blog about but who can blog when it’s sunny and 80 degrees and the ocean is literally outside our window? I’ll be back on track soon with some book reviews and other thoughts on life.

For now, though, I offer you my top five reflections from our first vacation as a family.

1. I’ve become my mother. I take pictures out the front window of the car as we drive, and I have vivid memories of my mother’s while-in-motion photography skills. It may not always be pretty, but it gets the job done. Am I right?

We’re crossing the Chesapeake Bay on the bridge-tunnel here.

2. I no longer care about skinny women in bikinis. We’re vacationing in Florida, where I spent several vacations as a teenager. Beach + teenager insecure about her body (okay, maybe that should just read “woman”) = deep hatred of swimsuits. Fast forward 20 years and I have two very good reasons (not to mention the stretch marks) for why I don’t look good in a bathing suit.

You know. These two reasons.

3. Vacation is not about what I want. I’ve never been a big fan of beach vacations because I burn easily and don’t like being overheated. And I’d rather sit by the pool under a beach umbrella and read a book than swim. That’s all changed with the kids. We’ve been here two full days and I’ve spent the better part of both days either in the pool or on the beach. And my skin shows it a little. Confession: I’ve never had more fun in the pool or on the beach. How do you say “no” to a 4-year-old who grabs your hand and begs you to jump into the deep end with her? Again. And again. And again. Her enthusiasm is contagious. And how do you convince the 2-year-old that the ocean is fun if you don’t get out there and get your feet wet, too?

4. In addition to bearing much of the sunburn, my shoulders (and my husband’s) bear the responsibility for pulling off a great vacation. Partway through our trip down the coast, he realized that he’s the dad (he’s had four years for this to sink in) now. He does the driving and the planning and the getting us safely from place to place. At my parents’ condo, I’ve slipped into the role of mom, even though my mom is with us. I buy groceries. I cook. I do laundry. Meanwhile my parents enjoy the grandkids they don’t see often enough.

Oh, how times have changed.

5. I can appreciate how much work my parents put into our family vacations, especially in the dark ages before Google Maps could show you your hotel from a satellite picture or the Internet could help you find an out-of-the-way bird farm in somebody’s backyard in North Carolina. (It’s a real place, the subject of a blog to come.)

Surely we whined and asked “are we there yet?” a million times. Surely they wished we’d just fall asleep so they could have some peace and quiet. Surely they smacked themselves on the forehead when they realized they forgot to pack swim diapers for the toddler. Surely they wondered, at times, if it wouldn’t have been easier to stay home.

But surely, they also would have thought about how great the memories would be and maybe someday their kids would take their kids on vacation and make great family memories.

We’re having more fun than I thought was possible.

How has family redefined your idea of vacation?

Missing the link

Today’s cup of tea is steeping a little longer than usual, mostly because I have about 50 scattered things running through my head right now. What I thought I might write about I’ve since abandoned for another day. So grab a cup of whatever you like to drink and bear with me. I’ll try to keep things on track.

I’ve been singing the kids to sleep at night using a hymnal from my husband’s side of the family. His grandmother’s, maybe. (Yeah, I’m a terrible wife for not knowing these things, right?) Our son calls it, and every other book with music in it, the singing bible. It’s a nightly ritual that one of the children grabs the “singing bible” and finds a spot for it in their bedroom while they settle in to bed.

Although this book is filled with songs, I have a few favorites, mostly because I know the tunes without music and I can lull the kids to sleep with them. One is “All Creatures of Our God and King.” (Maybe you know it. If not, check out this version. EXACTLY the same as me singing to the kids.  Almost.)

In the hymnal, the song is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, a Catholic friar during the early 13th century. We had a modern version of that song play at our wedding in the early 21st century and I sing it to my kids. How cool is that?

It got me thinking about the ties that bind us to the past and the role we play in linking the past with the future. The songs we sing, the stories we tell, the Bible we read … they’ve been passed on for generations. And we bear a responsibility to pass them on as well.

We learned about liturgy in Sunday School this week. In some Protestant circles, “liturgy” is almost a dirty word. But the beauty of it is the passing on of tradition, the retelling of the story of Christ, and the participation in something bigger than what you can see.

Last fall, my husband and I took a trip to Colorado for my cousin’s wedding. One day, we visited the famous Red Rocks Amphitheatre.

Breathtaking. Like just about everything else in Colorado. But don’t get me started.

As we were walking through the visitor center, I heard a documentary playing, and one of the musicians who had played at Red Rocks said something to the effect that playing there was like being part of something bigger than yourself. Because of the history. And the legendariness (is that even a word?) of it. Because of those who had played there before. Because of the community you join by having played Red Rocks.

That resonated with me at the time because it was so spiritual in nature. Even though he was talking about a man-made entertainment venue, there was value to him in being part of something bigger than himself.

How easily we lose sight of that. If life is all about the here and now, and just my life, then it doesn’t matter what I do, how I do it, or if I continue to live.

But if my life is about the past, present and future, about joining an ongoing story in all of humanity, then what I do matters, how I do it matters, and most importantly, I matter.

I am who I am today not only because of decisions I made about my life but because of decisions other people made about their lives and my life. And even if I don’t agree with or like those decisions, I can make a change for the future by the decisions I make in my life now and in my kids’ lives.

I’m saddened to think that people live their lives for themselves without acknowledging the past or considering the future.

When it comes to church, I’m realizing that I’ve had an “it’s all about me” attitude. I’ve discarded tradition because I’ve thought it stuffy or boring while embracing the contemporary for its newness and liveliness. I’m learning that both are important, and I’m intrigued by the ancient-future worship movement.

Anyway, that’s what has me thinking today. Thanks for listening in, and feel free to add your thoughts.

Hope you’re enjoying a hot or cold cup of something delicious!