I packed two Kleenex boxes. Extras for the road, you know. It’s like packing the proverbial clean underwear for your nose.
We’ve purchased two since we’ve left just two weeks ago. One of the two I have just now emptied.
I’m exhausted but my abs are TIGHT, YEAH!
Turns out late March isn’t exactly the best time to see southern California…if you have allergies. I hadn’t sneezed like this in quite some time. I don’t recall the last time I had a sneezing fit that lasted two weeks. Yet, since we left Colorado, nature has managed to successfully eliminate my nearly-bionic ability to physically block histamine.
Tonight? Two generic zyrtec, one Claritin D, and another 200 tissues and counting.
And it was worth it.
Driving up and over the pass to the ocean.
Buellton is beautiful in the spring time. Mornings of heavy mist carpet the landscape until the sun peaks about noon-time, when all becomes clear again. It’s kinda like the ads for Claritin clear… but in a way that really works. The morning fog evaporate to reveal lush, steep rolling hills. The grass a bright green with patches of lavender and yellow wild flowers and the hillsides spotted with trees – the kind any boy would love to climb into. It’s quite the idyllic scene laying in and around vast expanses of vineyards for the vino consumerist in some of us.
I enjoyed a few moments outside on our RV Park patch of grass with my 14-week old daughter. Until, last Thursday, suddenly the wind picked up and as I turned to see what the weather was doing behind me all I could see was a pale yellow dust-like haze in the air, similar to the dry howling winds of northeastern Colorado that stirs up dust and drops it when the wind stops.
But this wasn’t wind kicked-up dust. It was pollen. Within seconds I was covered. Sophie was covered. My laptop was covered, my iPhone, my grill, our chairs…etc.
I have yet to recover.
Vineyards in their early blossoming.
I should have invested in some wine from this part of the country, it would have made this hyper allergenic roller coaster much more fun to ride.
I’m thinking the RV may need a deep interior cleaning. The good news is that Sophie hasn’t displayed any signs of being just as allergic to pollen as I have in the last 72 hours. (And if babies develop that at a later stage, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know – I enjoy the occasional bliss of ignorance.)
So now we’re in Three Rivers, California, close to the southern entrance to the Sequoia National Park. From wine fields to citrus groves. The RV park we’re in shall remain nameless as it advertised wireless internet but that same internet is difficult to access and there is absolutely no Verizon signal. We’re nearly off the grid.
Speaking of which, tomorrow’s Easter and we’ll also be completely off the church grid for worship, too. This may be the first time I’ve ever missed an Easter service in my entire life. What in Christ’s resurrected name am I going to do? I think I’ll go see some big, old trees.
I’ve harped on those who misunderstand what the spiritual discipline of worship is all about – and here I am missing my 3rd in a row.
I’ve heard all the reasons why some people choose not to attend. I’m spiritual but not religious (Hear this one all the time). Being outside is my worship space. Music is my sanctuary (Thank you to Sarah McLachlan for that one… I almost completely agree with you). My work is my worship. Wait a minute. Your work is your worship? What is it you do and are you hiring?
There is something I’ll miss tomorrow morning, besides being with family and friends on what I consider to be a special, holy day. I’m not sure what that something is.
Point is, there is something we miss by not practicing our faith. The same thing goes for those who choose not to practice their trade. Would Justin Verlander have just signed a new contract with the Detroit Tigers for a redonkulous (yes, that’s how ridiculous it really is… reDONKulous) amount of money without practice? We all know what Allen Iverson thinks of practice and perhaps what he now thinks of his former career in the NBA.
So, would you go to a doctor who didn’t practice? Would you lay odds on the team that didn’t practice the week before the big game to win it? Would you hop on an aircraft with a rookie pilot who hasn’t taken a real flight out of the simulator? Would you follow a Rotarian into a mission field if he/she only said the 4-Way Test (scroll down a bit on the page for this one) and not practiced it in real life? (I know, this last is tough to relate for someone not involved in a service organization but in a way it’s more like an organization practicing the basic principles of Christianity without having to admit that you are one.)
I didn’t think so.
The saying, practice makes perfect, was hinting at something.
Now, I’m not saying that you all reading this post must absolutely practice what I’m practicing. I wouldn’t pretend to say that what I’ve got is the best. There may be another road for you. If there is another road, please DRIVE IT, ALREADY! And do the speed limit, at least. No one likes a Sunday driver.
Practice planting a tree if your into the environment. Practice every facet of politics if you fancy having a say in public policy (not just one party side, but thoroughly researching all viewpoints to one argument to be truly informed and not simply living out a set of indoctrinated values). Practice the skills of futbol, the original soccer, the beautiful game, so that you can play for the Colorado Rapids one day and help them back to the MLS Cup (it’s been a rough couple years for us season ticket holders). Practice how to pray if you want to be good at it – really, it’s easier said than done. I should know, I’m still trying this one on.
I’ll miss the rolling hillsides of that southern portion of California. I wouldn’t mind returning…after pollination season has ended. I’m also sure I wouldn’t know what to miss if I don’t ever return to see what it is that I’ve been missing. Practice means to do something over and over and over again until it becomes something close to second-nature.
Having said that, I’ll be missing the practice of rediscovering resurrection. New life. The kind of stuff spring time is made of – flower budding, bees buzzing and, yes, even the pollen falling…seemingly directly into my nostrils.
Go to go now… I feel a sneeze coming on… But before I do, please allow me offer you a preemptive BLESS YOU! as you rediscover practice on your own.
The Journey. Rev. Greg Larsen 