a Roadtrip

I left yesterday for a road trip. Armed with some music, a book on tape, my camera, and my own thoughts I had more than enough to keep me entertained on my three hour drive to Redmond, OR. Leaving the temperate rain forest of Portland, I drove East heading up into the mountains, across the high desert plains of Eastern Oregon, past logging mills, and across cow studded farms to meet up with seven other women who were all ready settled in at the Eagle Crest Resort. The occasion was an Oregon pastors' wives retreat, a gathering with delightfully no agenda other than drinking wine, watching movies, sitting in a hot tub, and enjoying all around relaxation. With six hours of blissful solitude on the road I became lost in my own thoughts and the grandeur of the rapidly changing Oregon landscape. This precious time alone was combined with the sweet fellowship of women who, though all quite different and unique from one another, were brought together by our common experience of being married to pastors.

It struck me, as I drove the three hours home, how little opportunity there is to be bored in this life as long as you have the infinite depths of the riches of other people, the internal life of your own mind, and the wonder of God working out His redemption in the context of these broken vessels. I was struck, in the short evening and morning spent with these women, by the incredible beauty, complexity, and uniqueness that make up each of our beings. Each woman there brought together by a shared experience of mothering, of being married to men who are shepherding a flock, of having our own dreams, desires, and passions stirring within and waiting to burst forth.

What beauty lies within each individual made in the image of God? What story lies behind our smiles? And when those stories begin to break through, when desires bubble up, what miracles can happen?

Crossing the pass up to Timberline lodge and veering East...

to cross the Deschutes River

and enter the dry, dessert like landscape of central Oregon

A Crossroads

...a moment with a barn...

passing a paper mill industry plant

crossing the 45th parallel- half way between the equator and the North Pole

and being greeted by Glenda...with some flaming Spanish coffees. For some reason, the blue flame didn't show up in the picture, but it looked mighty cool.

the rest of the crew (minus me behind the camera and Glenda)

from left( Gretchen, Davina, Ardis, Jerilee, Rhonda, & Amy)

As I drove and listened to my book on tape I got to thinking a lot about creativity, about our creative urges, those desires welling up inside of us to make, to do, to create, and yet how those desires seem to kick against those other parts of ourselves that want to just 'be,' to rest, to know peaceful contentedness without the inner drive. I begin to think about writing and how it is a lot like, well, singing in the shower. You sound so good to yourself as you belt out that tune in the steamy shower. In the same way, words can flow forth in the imagination and seem so eloquent and insightful until the pen touches the paper and they seem strangely stilted and limited. How is it possible to bridge the "shower gap" in the creative process? How do we bring to fruition those voices that are in our heads in a way that the world can see or understand? Perhaps, therein, lies the journey.