Making the Most of the Journey

My family and I just returned from our annual weekend trip to Asheville, and (as always) I've come out of it with some "deep thoughts." Mom and I like to make the most of the trip there and back -- we'll stop the car on the side of the road when the mood hits, get out, take some pictures, get back in the car, and go about our merry way. However, my father, bless his heart, does happen to fulfill the male stereotype in this area. He hides it quite well, but he tends to be a bit single-minded in his determination to "get there," no matter where we're going. And by no means is he alone in his conviction: my grandmother tells the story of when she and Grandpa went out west and she asked him to make one special stop. He told her, "we can't stop at every little thing," and kept going. It was the Grand Canyon.

But, I must admit, Dad was kind to Mom and me today. Rather than just zooming along the interstate today to get straight back to the house, he agreed to driving down "country roads" and stopping by Chimney Rock to explore the views. He rode the elevator up with us to the Rock, and actually fared the heights much better than Mom or I did. We enjoyed the 75-mile views, snapped some pictures, and took the elevator back down through the mountain to the parking lot.

Mom and I decided that we would like to take a hike to see Hickory Nut Waterfall (only in North Carolina would they name a waterfall "Hickory Nut"), and Dad decided to people watch back at the gift shop. We knew the trail was rated "moderate," and we soon learned why. At least 80% of it was uphill, over roots and loose rocks. But we knew that hiking the trail was the only way to experience the waterfalls. So, we went. In just over half an hour, we made our way to its end, and were rewarded by the cool mist and beautiful view of Hickory Nut Falls. We snapped some more pictures and began our (thankfully) downhill trek back to the car. As we got back to the beginning of the trail, I overheard a teenage girl talking to her mother about the trail -- she was discussing the difficulty of walking uphill, and told her mother that the park officials should expand the path into a road that cars could negotiate.

At first, I was inclined to agree. Wouldn't it just be easier to drive a car (or take a people mover) to the falls? More people would be able to go down the path, and it would obviously take less time to get there. But then I realized that I was falling prey to that same "destination" mentality. Not only did I find quite a few great views and interesting stops along the path as I was going there, but I also realized that I would not have enjoyed the waterfall as much as I did had I not pushed myself to get there.

And (yes, there's a moral coming) I think my experience today served as yet another reminder of how we often view our lives. We set our eyes on our ultimate goal -- which is in no way wrong -- but then we tend to get tunnel vision. But, yet again, God shows His grace. He allows us to get waylaid. He throws obstacles in our path to slow us down, get us sidetracked, and sometimes grind us to a stop. And while I'm in no way saying that it's the only reason God does this, I'm willing to submit that the lesson I learned through my little epiphany today is a really good reason for it. If we reached every destination within moments of embarking on the journey, not only would we miss out on opportunities and lessons along the way, but we would also take for granted the destination itself. So, as I continue my journey, I must "press on toward the goal," but at the same time allow myself to enjoy the path that God has given me to walk.