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Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

road trips

Stories of Friendship: The more things change, the more they stay the same {guest post}

June 26, 2015

Occasionally on Fridays, I post stories of friendship–mine and others’. Today is a story from a former co-worker, Beth Heldebrandt. She was my boss, technically but she wasn’t bossy and we sometimes had lunch together, so she felt more like a friend. Read what Beth has to say about friendship! (And if you’d like to share your own story, send me an email: lmbartelt (at) gmail (dot) com.)

I can’t remember the day we met because my memory doesn’t go back that far, but I know that it was just after I had proudly learned how to tie my shoes. Dawn, Beth and I were three of the 10 girls in our small Catholic school kindergarten class (there were 16 kids in the class total, and three of us were named “Beth”). That was more than 40 years ago (40!), but as the saying goes, the more things (and people) change, the more they stay the same.

I was reminded of that phrase a few times recently when the three of us drove to the East Coast (and beyond) to spend a week in a beach house at Hatteras Island, N.C. I think we all had our moments of nerves in the weeks leading up to the trip. While I had spent time with each of them over the years, the three of us hadn’t spent any measurable time together since college. And now we were going to spend an entire week together? And more than 35 hours in a car?

beth's beach friends

“It’s the same old Beth,” I told Dawn when she expressed her excitement and anxiety a week or so before the trip. “It’s the same old Dawn,” I told Beth, in turn. But, I admit, I also wondered how our adult personalities would mesh on such a trip.  I thought, “Am I the same old Beth, too?” I didn’t think so.

Let’s face it, a lot has happened to us in 40 years – career changes, moves, marriages, divorces, births, child rearing, deaths, and all of the joys and stresses in between.

But in the end, I was right about one thing – life had certainly changed each of us, but deep down, we were still the same.

Within a few hours of the trip I felt that our old friendships had re-formed, and the past four decades were a blur. Despite all the curveballs that life had thrown us, we were still the same people at the core. The morning person was still a morning person. The night owls were still night owls. We were (in turn) bossy, sassy, anxious and moody.

But with Dawn and Beth, there was no need to be polite – we simply called each other on our issues the way lifetime friends can (and we took advantage of plenty of alone time, too!). We bickered and debated and laughed – and by mid-week we all admitted to feeling more relaxed than we could last remember.

A trip like this is full of reminiscing, together and on our own. Dawn, Beth and I were classmates through high school graduation, and then Dawn and I were roommates for four years of college. I remember Beth coming to visit us at our college and us going to visit her.

I remember having my first sleepover at Dawn’s house and being confused when I met her mom because I’d never seen a pregnant woman before.

I remember Beth and I shopping for prom dresses and having to be careful choosing the color because we were both dating boys with red hair.

We played basketball together. We were cheerleaders together.  We were in clubs together and hung out on the weekends. We double-dated, drove each other’s cars and broke plenty of rules as teenagers.

We’ll always have the shared fear of Sister Clementine (gasp!), the hours spent cruising Main Street (gas 99 cents a gallon!) and the music of Meat Loaf (“Paradise by the Dashboard Light”!).

The memories are endless, and I’m proud that we now have new ones.

Filed Under: Friendship Tagged With: beach vacation, friendship, lifelong friends, road trips, stories of friendship

When PB & J tastes like manna (and other nomadic thoughts)

January 14, 2013

I’ve heard lots of words fill in the space after “Home is …” and today, after two long driving journeys in two weeks, my mind is as blank as that space and I have no words to fill it.

It was good to be home–the place where we grew up, made memories, continue to make memories, bump into people we haven’t seen in years, and are welcomed with open arms by family and friends.

And it’s good to be home–the place where our stuff lives, the only house in which our kids remember living, our non-native state that still causes our breath to catch when we first glimpse its mountainous views, the place where good and bad memories duke it out for dominance, our legal address, where we are missed and embraced and yet sometimes still treated like strangers.

We’ve made the 800-mile drive between Illinois and Pennsylvania at least a dozen times and this was the hardest for me.

For starters, I hate the driving. Although I like seeing new places and having adventures, I become anxious about the journey–that in-between state of not being here or there.

road

The journey is unpredictable. I never know if our daughter is going to be car sick or how many times we’ll have to stop to pee or if we’ll be slowed by construction or an accident or rain or snow.

And it can be dangerous. The car might break down. Or slide on the ice into a concrete median and cross three lanes of traffic, totalling your future in-laws’ car and lengthening your cross-country trip by hours. (Yeah, that happened once.)

It’s tiring. How can riding in a car for so long be so draining? We play car games and answer the kids’ questions and toss food back at them (kind of like feeding zoo animals) and listen to talk radio and read. And it’s exhausting, especially if we try to do it all in one day.

But the journey is worth it if the destination is.

Driving home to Illinois hasn’t always seemed worth it. There have been seasons we’ve needed some separation from our families and the trip felt like duty, more for the kids than for my husband and me. But the two weeks we just spent there were TOTALLY worth it this time around (Read the highlights here.) We missed Christmas with our families so we were extra eager to get there and do whatever it took (we drove through the night on New Year’s Eve).

The return trip home to Pennsylvania has often been a welcome relief. A chance to get back to normal and into the routines that fill our days.

Not so this time around.

We’re stuck in a dead zone of sorts right now. Back to “normal” is nothing exceptional. My husband has a job he likes but it’s not what he wants to be doing with his life and it doesn’t meet our financial needs. We are lacking a level of love and community we’ve experienced at other times and places in our lives. We feel stuck. Neither here nor there with work, ministry, friendships, even our faith.

If you know the story of the Israelites and their desert wanderings, as recorded in Exodus and Numbers, our current state feels a little like that. desert

We are following God’s leading, but we feel like we’re walking in circles.

As I slapped together peanut butter and jelly sandwiches once again for dinner (our kids aren’t complaining!) I thought about God’s provision of manna. How the Israelites complained about needing food to eat in the desert and God provided. And they rejoiced. For a while. Then they complained again and longed for the food they ate as slaves. (Leeks! Onions! Fish! Cucumbers!)

God is giving us daily bread (and meat and fruit and cheese) from a variety of sources, and I thank Him for it.

And I complain because we are needy and dependent and may have to reapply for food stamps because we don’t know how long this season of underemployment will last.

I want to scream “WHERE ARE WE GOING, GOD?” and I’m waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. Life is not as good as it could be right now and the pessimist in me is afraid it will only get worse.

Maybe these are just the tired ramblings of a lost girl.

One thing I know: I am not alone on this journey.

Many are saying,

“Oh, that we might see better times!”

Lift up the light of your countenance upon us, O Lord.

This is my plea from the desert.

Filed Under: faith & spirituality, holidays Tagged With: family visits, God's provision, long drives, manna, road trips, travel, wandering in the desert

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Photo by Rachel Lynn Photography

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Hi. I’m Lisa, and I’m glad you’re here. If we were meeting in real life, I’d offer you something to eat or drink while we sat on the porch letting the conversation wander as it does. That’s a little bit what this space is like. We talk about books and family and travel and food and running, whatever I might encounter in world. I’m looking for the beauty in the midst of it all, even the tough stuff. (You’ll find a lot of that here, too.) Thanks for stopping by. Stay as long as you like.

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