Take Another Lap

Dear Friends and Family,

Greetings from the road and God bless you all…

Over the past two and a half years, LuAnn’s and my journey has brought us, in a kind of circular pattern, from the Pacific Coast to the Atlantic, from the northern tip of Minnesota to the Southern tip of Texas, from Canada to Mexico, and back again. As we traveled we said, jokingly—at least we thought we were saying it jokingly—that if we didn’t find what we were looking for the first time around, we’d just go around again. Well, it wasn’t a joke.  We’re back on the road. We’re taking another lap.

Back in my high school athletic days, “taking another lap” was often a punishment for bad performance, lazy play, or the lack of focus. It was meant to reorient our thinking in order to “get our heads back in the game.”

I’m not sure if that’s what this is or not.  It might be.

Another reason for “taking another lap,” whether it was around the football field or the basketball court, was to increase our capacity for taking on the rigors of the game. The more laps we ran in practice the more endurance we would have in the game, the more prepared we would be to take a hit or give that extra effort, and the less apt we would be to suffer injury.

I’m not sure if that’s what this is either.  It might be.

Many days this feels less like punishment or preparation and more like just waiting. I guess that’s okay.  Waiting increases our capacity to accept what lies ahead.

If you’ve been following our adventure via our web site or Facebook, the last word you heard was the birth of our precious little granddaughter, Farrah Jaye. Had I been more consistent with photos and updates, you could have joined into the wonder of Farrah’s growth over this past year. Had I been more disciplined with my communication since LuAnn’s and my travels began, you could have joined into the challenges and rewards of our life on the road, the joy of being reunited with family and friends, the delight of meeting new people in new places, and the absolute splendor of the all the sights, sounds, and smells waiting around every corner across this amazing continent. But, sadly, I’ve been neither consistent nor disciplined.

I’m tempted to catch you up on every detail but that would overload you and I would be sure to forget something.  I would love to tell you everything LuAnn and I are discovering and leaning about love and life but that would be overwhelming and boarder on too much information.

How can there still be so much for us to discover and learn after so many years together?

It’s been nearly three years since LuAnn and I began this displacement from the comfort and security of our home and careers and began this nomadic way of life.  I can’t begin to calculate the amount of time we’ve spent in the confines of our Dodge Caravan.  We treat it like other people treat a motor home or camper.  It’s our “tiny house.”  We travel in it, eat in it, and sleep in it (in strange and sundry places).  We read and write and take far less photos than we promised ourselves we were going to take.  We change our clothes, change our plans, and map out our path using our GPS, an old-school tool called a road atlas, and a new instinct we’ve discovered for finding “roads less traveled.” We listen to podcasts on our phones and watch movies on our laptops. We sing and we visit and we refrain from visiting. We reminisce the past and hope for the future. We pray and cry and fight and make up from our fighting. Our rusty old van is one of the only things we can claim as our own. For now, it’s the only place we can truly call home.

That, by the way, is the answer to the question, “How can there still be so much for us to discover and learn after so many years together?”  Put two people in that close proximity for two years and they’ll either discover and learn new things about love and life or go insane. (That might have been a poor choice of words as there seems to be some debate as to LuAnn’s and my sanity, but I think you get the idea.)

Suffice it to say, we are having an amazing journey. “Some days are diamonds and some days are stones” but, for now, this is where we are and who we are and we wouldn’t have it any other way until this leg of our journey is complete.  Whatever this is, whatever is becoming of us, it’s too important to rush.

I will refrain from any attempt to suggest an itinerary for the coming months as that too would be overwhelming.  We have plans that could take us through the spring of 2019. That’s a whole year from now.  A lot can happen in a year.

Maybe we’ll take another lap.

Until next time, may the Lord be with you…


Mike and LuAnnhttps://pr.uustoughtonma.org/d.js

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