Spontaneity is the spice of life. It adds dashes of flavor, dabs of
color, and seasons our journey with unexpected, unanticipated surprises.
Our summer has been peppered with spontaneous encounters, reunions on rooftops, fond farewells, disheartening discoveries, and the recurring revelation of the goodness of God in the land of the living.
We kickstarted our summer by traveling down to Daytona Beach in Florida with our friends and family: Sim, Erin, John and Nikki. Three sets of couples vacationing together. Perhaps we are trendsetters, as we were informed that it is an oddity for couples to vacation in groups. Upon hearing that we drove down together in a minivan, certain persons had the audacity to ask if we all shared the same hotel room to cut our costs. A grossly distasteful comment, someone's weak attempt to appear clever.
Our counter-cultural venture was laid back, as we alternated group activities with quiet couple strolls along the beach. We enjoyed fellowshipping over a delicious meal at a local crabshack on the pier, played a competitive game of putt-putt after nightfall in the cool of the evening, and on rainy days, we gathered and played cribbage and Spouseology together. We visited the St. Augustine Lighthouse, the guys boogey boarded in the ocean, and I collected a few interesting shells that washed up on the sand, reveling in the warmth as the waves lapped at my ankles. It was a leisurely vacation.
Upon our return home, we discovered that our house had been burglarized during our absence. Our bedroom window was bashed in, and shards of glass lay on our comforter, nightstand, and carpet, punctuated by spots of blood. The tranquility of Xenia had been shattered by the presence of an intruder. Exhausted from the long drive, dazed from the disheartening discovery, we reported the burglary to the police and awaited the officer's arrival. As we assessed the damage, we were surprised by how much of our property had been left behind, untouched. All things considered, we were fortunate. We were safe, and most of our valuable possessions were still under our roof. We surmised that a little person, an inexperienced burglarer, heard wind of our departure and took only what he could carry, explaining the almost haphazard selection of the stolen goods. This suspicion was confirmed a month later, when the culprit confessed everything to us. In light of a full confession and an agreement to work off the damages, we dropped the charges. We hope and pray that the change of heart and our forgiveness will impact this life, showing a reflection of Christ and His gift of grace.
Another unexpected development occurred when my dear childhood friend Abby Drew announced that she would be moving down to Atlanta. Through the years, we've always been there for each other, have traveled the world together, had heart-to-heart's over steaming mugs of coffee and tea, laughed, reveled, and processed together. She's a true blue, first rate kindred spirit, one who encourages and shares insights. Plutarch spoke words of wisdom when he stated that "A constant friend is a thing rare and hard to find." I think of Abby when I consider his assessment. She is setting off on a grand adventure, a journey of no regrets, and though her leaving will be bittersweet, I know that our friendship will be all the richer for it. We kept in touch while I was in the Philippines, so the distance of Georgia is not insurmountable. This season of our lives will challenge and deepen our friendship, and I look forward to the years ahead. Godspeed, Abby Drew.
Prior to her departure, Abby helped organized a rooftop reunion in honor of our mutual friend Abigail Elaine's 23rd birthday. It was a lovely evening in a beautiful setting, and the clouds that threatened to storm held back their bounty. The skyline of Indianapolis was gorgeous, illuminated by the fading light of sunset. Good conversation abounded as old friends and acquaintances reunited.
To wrap up the adventures of summer, John climbed the summit of Mt. Whitney in California. He declares that it was the most grueling endeavor of his entire life, and the journey may well be his first and last venture to the top of the highest mountain in the continental US. His father made the trek when he was 17, and desired to make a second trip up with his sons. The momentous five day hike had been in the works for some time, and much preparation and thought went into the culmination of the image below. The backpacks were selected with care, the contents were weighed, ounce-age was maximized, and equipment was researched by the members of the father - son team.
Much of our summer was dedicated to preparing for the climb. Sodas and sweeties were eliminated from John's diet, and he began to outfit for the trip. A mere 6 days from their scheduled flight to California, John and I were fulfilling the rest of his packing list, running errands and selecting the final items for his trip. He had just gotten his pack fitted at R.E.I that afternoon, and had placed it in the backseat of our tiny red Civic as we stopped into our last two stores for the day. And then the unthinkable: someone broke into our car and stole his pack and my purse. As the realization sunk in, a heavy despairing ache pulled at me from the inside of my soul. Not again. I immediately began to chastise my stupidity. Yet there was nothing to do. No amount of conjuring could bring our property back to us. After reporting our loss to 911, we met with officer Wes, deflated. Cancelled our cards. Hoped against hope that we could recoup our losses. Came to grips with the cold hard facts. It was gone.
We were safe. Our purchases were still in their bags. And over the course of the next couple of days, John bought a new sleeping bag, bear keg, replenished his food supplies, and found an Osprey backpack on Craigslist. When the day of departure arrived, John was outfitted, prepared for the journey to Whitney. As you can see from the image, he persevered and scaled the summit of the mountain. John was in California for ten days, our longest separation since our wedding day. I was overjoyed to see him when he returned home to me.
I start my junior year at IUPUI this Monday, beginning an internship class with the University Writing Center. As I further my education, I am excited to discover opportunities to implement my English degree, spreading a love for writing and literacy. John continues to work independently as a contractor, and hopes to invest more time in flipping cars, his hobby.
Xenia has hosted many a traveler under her roof. We were delighted to encounter our dear friends Ian and Rose Penwell yesterday, surprising them in Fortville, Indiana, by dropping by on their lunch break where they were teaching a seminar at a local Christian church. Their astonished faces were priceless - I've never seen Ian so surprised in my life. We insisted they stay with us that night. We all went on a stroll around the Indianapolis canal, polishing off our evening by dropping into Sahm's Tavern for a slice of their signature sour cream coffee cake. As we swapped stories and reminisced about our days in Olongapo, I thanked God for these spontaneous encounters and for the gift of friendship. As my Dad so often reminds me, people are more important than things.
