I know they say you can’t go back again. Things will never be the same. The second movie is never as good as the first.
The Griswolds refuse to be defined by sentimental cliches. We are locked & loaded – headed for our second summer vacation in the Rockies.
I may or may not write about our adventures. The severe lack of wifi may prevent me from chronicling our ascent into the Rocky Mountains. That or laziness on my part and the inability to master the wordpress app on my iPad.
Last year, sipping coffee on the back porch of our cabin gazing straight into the God given glimpse of heaven on earth, I felt compelled to share our summer stay at the YMCA of the Rockies. I scribbled until the paper wore thin in my old spiral notebook, but never shared a word. Sometimes words are meant to be private. An offering to the Author, prayer in the form of journaled conversation.
Sometimes stories are meant to be shared. Not because any of you give two hoots and a holler about our pilgrimage to Estes Park, but because God meets us in our stories. Stories are about the hearer not the teller. Sure, I’ll be the one
stuck driving the swagger wagon for two days with a snoring Husband and four boisterous, cooped-up Littles. But somehow through the power of words we’ll connect. Because you know the story, too. I just hope your butt and back don’t get as sore as mine.
We would love your prayers as we go. The usual ones – travel mercies, an extra hedge of protection, and for family peace. While you are bending the Lord’s ear, you might add an extra petition for my choice of words while on the road – I can cuss like a sailor when under duress. Oh, and you might ask for gas station favor. That germs and stink would be minimal and my fear of bladder infections will outweigh OCD tendencies for cleanliness.
Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, you’ll hear from me again on our road trip to Rocky Mountain National Park. With promises like this to share how could I not tell the story?