A Family Vacation

We just got back from our family vacation in Colorado where we rented a cabin way up in the mountains on a sharp, windy path that was only accessible by 4 wheel drive in the summer. It was out there - no electricity or running water, just a small hut with 2 bunk beds, a wood stove, and a few essentials surrounded by a stream and woods and peaks, wildflowers and bear scat. The kids took to it quite well, declaring they wished they could live there, and spent their time running through the woods like nymphs and climbing rocks and exploring, which meant I was on high alert as the potential for injury abounded - the wood stove, the sharp rocks, the rushing stream, thick woods for getting lost, and no medical services within an hour. Sleep was not a luxury either - but those stars, that air, the sound of water spilling over rocks and logs - it was enough to keep me moored. And the fact that I had to walk the young ones to the outhouse every time they needed didn't seem a burden as Phoenix always doted on the views from the doorway, always pointing out the beauty. We had many an interesting conversation while I waited there.

After our days of hiking and exploring and alpine slides and windy roads we stopped at a diner to fill up for our long trek home. In the booth next to us a grandmother and her mentally disabled grandchild awaited her nephew to join them for lunch. You could tell even a cheap diner was a luxury. They were rough around the edges, and I heard her ask the waitress if she could pay with a few different cards as she didn't know how much she had left on each. The grandson couldn't speak, but still she talked to him and explained even the simplest things like dairy creamer and still she asked him questions and engaged him patiently. The nephew arrived, seemingly angry at the world, never softening his features. I heard her tell him he just needed to relax and be calm about things, that it was always better when you weren't angry. All the while she was clutching her cards, pulling at her ratty clothing, and trying to lift up the spirits of these boys. Doing the best she could with what she had. I decided then of a knew family tradition - as long as we are blessed to be able to take a vacation, we would always buy a meal for someone who could use a little help, who deserved a bit of joy. As Matt went to pay up our bill and theirs anonymously, I heard the grandma ask the child if he was happy. He tilted his head up slightly and she smiled and said "good, you should always try to be happy." A glimmer of light even in this greasy spoon roadside diner. I wanted her to know that this world appreciated her efforts. Yeah it was a small gesture, but it was something to mark our own thankfulness for vacation and, as is expected when traveling, to leave the area better than you found it. And remembering her clutching those cards and scouring the menu, trying to show those boys that it paid to be positive and level-headed, I imagine when she discovered their meal was covered she felt a bit of joy and a needed break, and those boys grew in respect and admiration for her. Glimpses of light - what more can we ask for when we have the chance to have glimpses at all?