Traveling Time

Besides writing, I have always wanted to travel.

Writing is something I have never classed as a dream. It's what I do; it's a facet of Who I Am. If I do, or don't do, or dream it, I will write it. Some way, some day. This is a fact, not a goal; not an ambition; not a dream.

Travel is the dream.
Something I have always wanted to do, but have done little of . Life has a way of stepping in and putting things back, for the someday that may never happen.That will probably never happen.

Well, my sisters started making it happen for me. Two years ago, they invited me to be part of their trip to Niagara Falls.









This June they invited me to participate in a Great Smokies getaway.

I can't thank them enough.

I've been looking into myself recently to see where all the desire went.

It didn't go anywhere, but it did get buried.

Buried under worries about him and them and cars and jobs and kids and health and homes and aloneness.

Once, I had a goal to walk the West Coast of the US, from San Diego to Seattle. I tried to save for it by saving change, but never managed to fill even a small peanut can with money. It kept being used, or borrowed, and I don't even remember when I gave that up.

Besides, my "big dream" was overshadowed by the neighbor across the street.
He had a goal, too.
His goal was to walk around the whole dang world.

Made my dream puny in comparison.

And then he actually did it!
And published articles, letters, and books about it! (yeah, that one, too!)

Thanks, Steve!
(Steve Newman, Dream thief.)

Seriously, at the time, it was encouraging. If he could do this GREAT BIG THING, there was no reason why I couldn't do something on a smaller scale. In fact, it proved that there should be, could be some way of doing it.

I don't know when or why I put that dream away.


But, as my life is slowing and sorting itself out, and there is time again, I am finding this dream goal once again.

 My sisters, part of the "Life" that whittled the dream away from me, are now giving it back.
Aren't they wonderful? Am I not lucky?

I want to go there.
I want to see that.

Somehow, I will.
Come hell or high water; come junk cars and minimal budget; come life or death.
Come life or death.
death. the ultimate journey.

Is it What? Or Which?

There is a sign at a church here in our little town. It asks "Is prayer your steering wheel, or your spare tire?"

How is this even a question?
What does it even mean?
Which answer would be the wrong answer? Aren't both options a viable use of prayer?
Is this really an either/or question?

Steering wheels and tires are both round, and they are both essential parts of a car. Essential parts of steering, driving, directing a car. (At least until joysticks or their equivalent take over, which I fully expect to see become standard before my time is done.)

But they have very different functions.

The tired old apples and oranges comparison doesn't even come close. Apples and oranges both being fruit, as steering and tires are both wheels.

Oranges and potatoes may be a closer simile/metaphor.
Pretzels and popcorn.
Balloons (the hot air kind) and baby carriages. (Do they still make those?)
Kitty cats and Gorillas.

Yes, this sign flummoxes me, every time I pass it. (Usually twice a day.)

I don't know what it means, or how it came to be phrased that way, or whose bright idea it was. It may even have come from a book. "The Half-Baked Signage Suggestions"

But do you know what else?
It has also done what it was intended to do.
It has made this sign-reader take a look at prayer and life, and wonder how and why it's used and when and where.

And, to answer my own question, I am pretty sure that there isn't really a wrong answer for prayer as a directing force. (That includes defining prayer as scientific questioning of how and why the universe works.)

So -- is prayer -- whatever you conceive it to be -- your steering wheel, your spare tire, or maybe a ball bearing? Or a pea. Or maybe even your hula hoop.