Musings of a Lone (But Not Lonely) Traveler

I have spent the last half of this week exploring two cities that are not my own. They are gorgeous, sprawling cities full of dried flowers and white walls with the mountains as their back-drop. Everyone here walks or bikes where they need to go, and it’s easy to join in with the weather this nice and the breeze blowing by in the shade. Dogs are everywhere - on trails, on sidewalks, in shops. I miss my own little companion miles away and wish I could have brought her. She would have loved this place.

I have felt more like myself here than I do at home, but I think that’s easy to buy into when you’re away from your routine and all the hiding you do around people who know you. What I actually mean is that I’m not more myself, I’m just more free. When you’re alone in a new place, it’s easy to feel free - No one knows what past mistakes or current failures follow you and you can live uninhibited like the geese at the lake I walked around earlier.

I’ve bounced around from coffee shop to coffee shop and explored one beautiful independent store after another. I’ve gone at whatever pace I chose, and I’ve refused to let guilt over “wasted time” creep in as I’m usually wont to do. I’ve had more conversations with strangers in the last 3 days than I have at home in the last year - and they all felt so comfortable. I never thought I’d enjoy traveling by myself this much and though there were times I wished I could share experiences with another warm body and soul, this trip really has been like a sigh of relief - a little escape and a small taste of eternity in certain ways. Colorado has always had my mind and now it has my heart too. Boulder was the quaint living place I never knew I wanted and Denver is full of all the hip vibes and good coffee anyone could ask for.

I know a lot of this is vacation mindset, and you’re all waiting on the sidelines to tell me why I can’t stay on this mountain-top experience, but I’ll have to stop you right there. It’s good to marinate in the simple pleasures as they come and recognize in them the grace of a Father who likes to give good gifts when you’ve spent weeks accusing him that he only holds out on you. The gifts of a waiter who makes your solo dining experience not only absent of awkwardness, but surprisingly comfortable and of stumbling onto what might be the world’s prettiest juice place that serves a ginger/lemon/cayenne shot when the ragweed just won’t let up. The gift of nice shop girls who take the time to talk to you about beauty, nature, and their journey away from one home and on to another (and who let you climb into their loft to get a better picture of their beautiful store). The gift of mountain tops and the thrill of a hike to them. A city where everyone is outside is my oasis. It is medicine to my weary soul and aching bones - and my sick body as it turns out - and the Lord has been so sweet to me here.

Here he can pull me away from the distractions that haunt the corners of my every day and pull my gaze over to his. He can look deeply into tired eyes and speak love into them. He can comfort a hurting heart that feels forgotten, and he can restore an identity mistaken. He is a good father in the mountains, and He will continue to be a good father at home - for I am going home. I miss it.

Tomorrow I return back to my life, but I’m determined to carry with me the lessons the mountains have taught me. When I return home those “mistakes and failures” will still be there, but what I am learning on this trip is what I prayed for - the realization that mistakes and failures are not an identity. My identity is in the blood of the lamb and in being a daughter, and that’s as good a rest as any mountain can offer and available whenever I need it.

As a good friend recently said to me “There’s space on the mountain tops to run."  We should run on the mountain tops if we want to trust him in the valleys. I’ll still be running when I get home. After all - There’s few things sweeter than returning to good friends and family and a dog who greets you with the same excitement no matter how much time you’ve been away. When the valley comes, I’ll have this mountain top to look back to, and isn’t that a gift in it’s own right? So today I’m content to think on the mountains and let the rest sort itself out.