Month: December 2018

Healing Journeys

I thought Niagara Falls would be at least three times as tall. That’s the problem with hype: it’s never as good as my imagination. My reaction to the Maid of the Mist, the famous boat tour to the waterfall, was that it was like paying twenty dollars to stand in a rainstorm. I was grateful for the excited reactions of people around me, yelling above the roar of the falls, “That’s So Cool!!” and “You can really feel the power of the falls from here!!” I had to acknowledge that the strength of the falls was pretty impressive. The other people’s elation made me start to appreciate the waterfall more.  

In Arizona, I visited Meteor Crater. The attraction was basically a big hole in the ground. It started raining right after I arrived, while the temperature hovered just above freezing. Standing there, cold and wet, staring at a hole in the ground, I thought about how this time, I actually did pay twenty dollars to stand in the rain.  

I met a woman there, Sylvia, who thought the crater was amazing. Eventually, her enthusiasm started to rub off on me. She was on a road trip with a friend, going on 61 days. Her husband of 40 years recently passed away. The friend she was with recently lost his mom. So they decided to take a grieving trip together. When passing through different states to explore natural wonders, they visited nearby family and friends, some Sylvia hadn’t seen in decades. 

What a great idea! If you’ve just gone through a huge life-changing event and you’re emotionally shaken, why not take some time away from your routine, let the wind inflate your sails? Especially if you can share the odyssey with someone who experienced a similar circumstance. See if your grieving journey develops into a healing journey.

A Dove in the Desert

I was on a tour of San Xavier Mission in Tucson, AZ, when a young woman woman walked in crying. She dipped her hands in holy water, crossed herself, and took a seat in a small pew near the back. Her sobs could be heard from the pulpit. I thought, I should give her a hug. Instead, I followed my group as it moved farther away, to the next section of the church. I didn’t feel right about ignoring that little voice, and a minute or two later, I decided to go back. When I turned back, I saw another woman- also a stranger- already hugging her. That should have been me. When my tour ended, I shuffled over to the young woman, who was still crying, although quietly now, and put my hand gently on her shoulder. “Are you okay, sweetie?” “Just pray for me,” she replied, gulping air. “I will,” I promised, even though I don’t normally pray.  

A few days earlier, while driving, I saw a van stopped by the side of the road near two circles in the sand made from rocks, both with crosses in the middle. A woman was placing balloons by the markers. I drove past, but thought, I should go back and give her a hug. I figured, anyone in that situation could probably use a little comforting. It couldn’t hurt to ask. Maybe she’d even be grateful for a chance to talk about what happened, or to talk about the people whose memories she was keeping alive. I found a place to turn around, but as I headed back, I saw the van pull onto the road and drive away. Too late.  

Isn’t it strange the way we fall into some pursuits? Now, when I’m on the road, I’m hoping to catch someone wrapping ribbon around a telephone pole or setting a wreath by a sharp curve just so I can get a second chance. I’ve got two hugs earmarked for people who have experienced a tragedy, and they’re just waiting in the queue.