The first thing I do when I get up on a summer morning is open all the doors and take in the sights and smells of our yard. I pour my cup of coffee, tune into my praise music, feed the koi, and begin to think about my day. The beauty that surrounds me reminds me that I am blessed to be living here at the Hacienda, surrounded by garden plants, flowers and trees.
Being a worrier is a bad habit and like all worriers, we do out best work in the early morning. Thankfully, it's never strong enough to overshadow the draw of traveling. Usually the minute I'm on the plane soaring skyward, I get over it. My pragmatic self shifts into gear and tells my psycho-worrier self "It's gonna be what it's gonna be, Laurel. So take a breath, sit back and hang on!" I think it's a God thing...whatever happens - good and bad - He's there. Trust, Laurel...trust.
And I get to see some of His best works of beauty...this time touring around the French countryside!
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TRAVELING WITH GOD
From 2008, first published in Laurel's Quill
in February, 2012
Perched on a tiny pedestal near the cash register at Starbuck’s Kenneth/Madison store sits Stan. Stan is a homely little man/doll with a bare chest and a big nose. Customers of the local coffee shop sign up on a schedule to take Stan on vacation with them. Across the room is a bulletin board covered with pictures of Stan taken around the world – Stan on an elephant in India, Stan in Ireland, Stan swimming with Dolphins, etc.
Dave and I signed up to take Stan to Europe in May. He probably had been there before but we hoped to show him new sights and experience new adventures together. Three days before our scheduled departure, I went to pick Stan up, as he was supposed to be arriving back from a two week junket to the nation’s capital. Alas, Stan had not returned to his perch by the cash register…sorry Stan…no Europe for you.
It would make a great story if I told you that I decided to take God with me to Europe instead of Stan. You know…like I was immediately overcome with a sense of godly purpose, spreading the Gospel to strangers I’d meet in every sidewalk café. Honestly though, I wasn’t thinking of God much during my packing and planning, like so many days that manage to slip through my fingers without so much as a passing thought of Him.
We left for Europe, full of
excitement and anticipation, and though I didn’t put God in my plans, He showed
up anyway. As we rounded the corner of a darkened Paris
street, I caught my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower
- twinkling, majestic and reaching for Heaven. I was overcome with thankfulness
– many never see such beauty. I felt the
same way as I entered the room where the lovely Mona Lisa sat in gracious
repose for the curious throngs – what incredible gift from God was given to the
man who captured her likeness?
God was everywhere, every day. In a single twenty-four hour period I was awestruck by miles and miles of yellow flowered hillsides that graced the road to Berlin, only to be brought to tears by the letters and photographs displayed in the Jewish Holocaust Memorial. That same quietness marked our visit to Omaha Beach, where surely God must have cried on that windy June day in 1944.
For every day that we were humbled by the history of Europe, there were no less than four or five that were
marked by magnificent beauty, joyful sharing and adventure that surely rivaled
our best attempts to conjure up Heaven!
Just take a drive through the vine covered hills of Tuscany, swim in the crystal blueness of the Adriatic, loose your purse with passports and credit cards only to have them returned safely into your hands by two strangers and tell me there’s not a loving, gracious, generous and merciful God who NEVER leaves your side.
