Life is the Journey
Patience is a virtue. I wish I was more virtuous.
The bible teaches it, and, my parents tried to instill it in me, but I think patience is something you have or you don't.
A few years ago, my husband and I went on our first solo holiday in 10 years. I was excited about the idea. We could go where we wanted, and on our schedule. The idea was more than appealing. My job was to pack our suitcase and a cooler with food and water to enjoy on route, and my husbands job was to make sure the vehicle was road ready for a 2400 mile road trip.
We were headed to Nova Scotia, a place that lives in my heart. My dad was born and raised there and we would return there every few years to reconnect with our family and the ocean. My dad had died that past February and his ashes were buried on his brothers farm, a farm that had belonged to his grandparents, where my dad had played as a child. I wanted to see where my dad was laid to rest.
We decided to leave our home at midnight to get through Toronto with little traffic and my husband determined we would get to Montreal after peak traffic time. Having driven through both, let me say it is harrowing.
My son and husband had just finished packing the van when it began to rain. The news had been talking about Hurricane Isaac all day. The meteorologists predicted our area would only get rain but the Atlantic coast would be hit. It looked like we were getting the rain. We contemplated waiting until the morning to begin our trek but decided that it would probably still be raining. So, we began our adventure.
As we drove, it poured, torrential rain from our home, through Toronto, past Belleville, all the way to the Quebec border. We were approaching Montreal, my comprehension of the french language is pretty nil. My friend Char had given us detailed directions through Montreal, being as she and her husband drive through every year. We were to take the tunnel but in the distance we could hear sirens and see flashing lights. We didn't require a translator to know there had been a terrible accident. The tunnel was closed. We had to find an alternate route.
Driving through Montreal in perfect weather and circumstances is still a white knuckle experience for me. I don't breathe right until I am on the other side. So, here we were, on a highway, not sure which way to go in the middle of a hurricane.
I was driving and I was yelling from pure frustration and my husband was his ever calm self. He looked like he was sitting in our back yard just sipping his coffee. I wanted to punch him! How could he be so calm when I was nearing hysteria? I screamed "Which way should I go"? He said quietly "Just pick one and see where it goes." That's it I thought, I am going to pull over and beat him senseless! I am having a near nervous breakdown and he is over there humming...something! I had no choice, I had to pick one of these roads. I held my breath and drove. I had no clue where I was going, I only knew I was heading Est. I did know that meant east. We drove around bends, over bridges, under bridges, past accidents, through the heart of Montreal and we made it to the other side...safe and still heading Est!
I looked at my husband, and he looked at me. He was still calm and I was a hot mess. We pulled into a gas station to fuel up our vehicle and us. Back in the van, drinking our coffee, my husband took my hand and stroked it softly and told me to "Relax". He said "We are on vacation. We don't need to rush, we just need to enjoy ourselves" . Then he looked into my eyes and said "Life isn't about the destination, it's about the journey ".
He was right! I still wanted to punch him, but I couldn't. He is usually right. In the middle of Hurricane Isaac, he was my calming force just like he had always been. Patient, loving, and kind. That is my husband. I am clearly insane, always have been and probably always will.
We arrived in Nova Scotia, I saw where my dad was laid to rest, under an old Maple tree he used to climb as a child. I told him about the drive. I stood there for a long time, just me and my dad. Just a few feet from where my dad is buried, run Halflingers, beautiful blonde horses that share a pasture beside my dad. They belong to my Uncle Gordon and Uncle Ivan. They watch over my dad and this gives me comfort.
I realize this is my dad's destination but it's not mine. My destination, I hope is still a long way off.
Our life may be rocky snd full of turmoil at times, kind of like driving through a hurricaine, we will sometimes get soaking wet, definately blown around and occasionally beat up, but they are the stories we share and the memories we cherish. Until then, I am enjoying the journey.
The bible teaches it, and, my parents tried to instill it in me, but I think patience is something you have or you don't.
A few years ago, my husband and I went on our first solo holiday in 10 years. I was excited about the idea. We could go where we wanted, and on our schedule. The idea was more than appealing. My job was to pack our suitcase and a cooler with food and water to enjoy on route, and my husbands job was to make sure the vehicle was road ready for a 2400 mile road trip.
We were headed to Nova Scotia, a place that lives in my heart. My dad was born and raised there and we would return there every few years to reconnect with our family and the ocean. My dad had died that past February and his ashes were buried on his brothers farm, a farm that had belonged to his grandparents, where my dad had played as a child. I wanted to see where my dad was laid to rest.
We decided to leave our home at midnight to get through Toronto with little traffic and my husband determined we would get to Montreal after peak traffic time. Having driven through both, let me say it is harrowing.
My son and husband had just finished packing the van when it began to rain. The news had been talking about Hurricane Isaac all day. The meteorologists predicted our area would only get rain but the Atlantic coast would be hit. It looked like we were getting the rain. We contemplated waiting until the morning to begin our trek but decided that it would probably still be raining. So, we began our adventure.
As we drove, it poured, torrential rain from our home, through Toronto, past Belleville, all the way to the Quebec border. We were approaching Montreal, my comprehension of the french language is pretty nil. My friend Char had given us detailed directions through Montreal, being as she and her husband drive through every year. We were to take the tunnel but in the distance we could hear sirens and see flashing lights. We didn't require a translator to know there had been a terrible accident. The tunnel was closed. We had to find an alternate route.
Driving through Montreal in perfect weather and circumstances is still a white knuckle experience for me. I don't breathe right until I am on the other side. So, here we were, on a highway, not sure which way to go in the middle of a hurricane.
I was driving and I was yelling from pure frustration and my husband was his ever calm self. He looked like he was sitting in our back yard just sipping his coffee. I wanted to punch him! How could he be so calm when I was nearing hysteria? I screamed "Which way should I go"? He said quietly "Just pick one and see where it goes." That's it I thought, I am going to pull over and beat him senseless! I am having a near nervous breakdown and he is over there humming...something! I had no choice, I had to pick one of these roads. I held my breath and drove. I had no clue where I was going, I only knew I was heading Est. I did know that meant east. We drove around bends, over bridges, under bridges, past accidents, through the heart of Montreal and we made it to the other side...safe and still heading Est!
I looked at my husband, and he looked at me. He was still calm and I was a hot mess. We pulled into a gas station to fuel up our vehicle and us. Back in the van, drinking our coffee, my husband took my hand and stroked it softly and told me to "Relax". He said "We are on vacation. We don't need to rush, we just need to enjoy ourselves" . Then he looked into my eyes and said "Life isn't about the destination, it's about the journey ".
He was right! I still wanted to punch him, but I couldn't. He is usually right. In the middle of Hurricane Isaac, he was my calming force just like he had always been. Patient, loving, and kind. That is my husband. I am clearly insane, always have been and probably always will.
We arrived in Nova Scotia, I saw where my dad was laid to rest, under an old Maple tree he used to climb as a child. I told him about the drive. I stood there for a long time, just me and my dad. Just a few feet from where my dad is buried, run Halflingers, beautiful blonde horses that share a pasture beside my dad. They belong to my Uncle Gordon and Uncle Ivan. They watch over my dad and this gives me comfort.
I realize this is my dad's destination but it's not mine. My destination, I hope is still a long way off.
Our life may be rocky snd full of turmoil at times, kind of like driving through a hurricaine, we will sometimes get soaking wet, definately blown around and occasionally beat up, but they are the stories we share and the memories we cherish. Until then, I am enjoying the journey.
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