I went for a drive Friday, over the mountains. Alone. Just me, my camera and Wendell Berry’s collection What Are People For, which was a Christmas gift from my brother. I love Berry’s essays. A friend lent me his copy of this particular collection my freshman year of college and it brought me a much needed respite from calculus homework.
My introvert within finds going for drives alone refreshing, despite the wastefulness of burning all that gas. Cranking up the music, doing a bit of car dancing going 75 down Interstate 90, stopping in little towns to take pictures of whatever catches my eye and to perhaps grab a bite to eat and browse the town’s antique shop.
Of course I wasn’t ever really absent from the presence of humans. Every place I stopped I met someone, each and every one a character. In one shop I was talking with the cashier and she said out of the blue, “I’d love to go to Vegas.” She asked if I’d ever been. Once, I said, in high school. Really it had just been a place to land and rent a car on the way to the canyon lands. She then started talking animatedly about how she had been to a LeAnn Rimes concert at Lake Tahoe and what an amazing trip that was.
Further down the highway I stopped to take pictures of some incredible icicles hanging off the eaves of a building near the ski area. The sun was shining for the first time in days, causing the melting snow to slide off the metal roof, in droplets and in chunks of slush. As I stood under the eaves taking pictures and laughing as drops of melted snow kept hitting my sweater, a man probably not much older than me came up and said, “Excuse me.” I looked at him and said, “Yeah?” and he continued, “Has anyone told you yet today you have an incredible smile?” I’ve heard lines like those before, but something about how he said it didn’t make me feel objectified. So rather than scowl and turn away I smiled and replied, “No one has. Thank you.” And left it at that. And it was nice to be complimented on something as trivial and outward as a smile, especially as it wasn’t immediately followed by a qualifier such as… will you go out with me?
I continued driving and stopped in Cle Elum at Pioneer Coffee, ordering a vanilla latte and then curling up in an armchair near the window to read my book. Every ten minutes or so a local would come in and order a drink, talk to the baristas and other patrons, and then leave and go about their day. Topics of conversation ranged from how the newspaper lady was late to how today was the first day someone didn’t have to park on the road and snowshoe the rest of the way home. Such a different lifestyle from my easy city life. I must have stayed for an hour or so, eavesdropping on conversations and watching people walk by, wondering what they were all up to. And I wasn’t completely just loitering. Whereas I can down a cup of tea in 5 minutes, it takes me a long time to drink a coffee, even a 12 ounce.
I kept on driving up SR-970 and took a left on Teanaway Road to get some pictures of the farms in the snow. The road was covered with snow and ice, but certainly passable. I’ve developed an unfortunate knack for disregarding No Tresspassing signs if I think I can get a good shot from the forbidden side of the fence. So far I’ve never gotten in trouble. So far. I got far enough down the road that I decided it would be irresponsible to keep driving, as if my car got stuck I’d have to wait quite awhile until some poor soul happened to come along and have to help push my car out.
And anyway I had reached my turn around and head back to Seattle time, as I needed to be back by 7pm for a worship team meeting and didn’t doubt I’d hit traffic coming into Seattle. Even on the drive back I would stop and take pictures of the mountains. Nature has never ceased to make me happy, whether it’s snowcapped peaks or a sudden rainstorm.
But I realized that entire day, despite how my windshield wiper fluid wouldn’t spray and I had to stop frequently to pour water on it to clear all the de-icer chemicals off so I could actually see the road, everything went well. Not every day can be like that day. That day I was happy. I hit traffic coming back to Seattle but made it to the meeting on time. I was up until 3am Saturday morning playing violin (my poor neighbors!) and writing a bit. One of the pieces was a total joke, but I worked on a song and a poem as well.
It was just an incredible day and I thank God for giving me a day like that. This whole weekend has been happy. Coffee with friends I haven't seen in too long, fun playing airsoft in the south woods on Saturday, and today brought more happiness of its own. Seeing people I didn’t expect to see, watching Stargate with my family while I did my laundry at my parents' house, another fun dinner with my small group. Tomorrow I go back to work. Life will return to normal, no doubt. But I will be looking for joy in even the seemingly mundane. It’s a fruit of the spirit. The second one. Love, JOY, peace… it’s something we can cultivate. Even in pain. Even when everything is going wrong. Habakkuk 3:17-18. And from 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18: Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. I want to do just that. It may be dangerous to ask for the chance to cultivate that particular fruit, but if God thinks I'm up for it... I'm game.
