Right now I’m sitting in room 103 of the Snowbird Resort Lodge in Utah. Our balcony looks out at the breathtaking Wasatch mountains covered in snow. It is pitch-dark and I’m listening to my son talk to himself as he falls asleep on the hide-a-bed. He is singing a song about every person he knows (Nae-Nae, Nae-Nae Daddy, Nae-Nae Mama, Nae-Nae Huh Huh, some of you know that translates to each of the members of the Dombrow family). Now he’s talking about the owie on his knee, and now he’s talking about church and bulldozers. Anyway, we are here in Utah, taking our first ever week of vacation in over three years (!). We’re visiting my brother and his wife and daughter and soon-to-be-born son, along with my parents.
So we embarked on our 800 mile journey on Thursday evening around 6:30pm, with all six of us piled into our Honda Pilot along with all of our luggage, food for a week, water, snacks, a cooler, two bikes, double jogger, assorted dulldozers, a stack of library books, and two jumbo packages of diapers. Jeff sat between the two kids in the middle seat and I squeezed into the solo third row seat, nestled between the grocery bags and the diapers. We arrived in Ontario around 1:30am and crashed at a Super 8, all six of us in one room. Heidi slept in a drawer of the dresser (no joke, I have pictures!), and we put two chairs together to make a bed for Dutch. We slept in our clothes, took turns in the bathroom the size of a gym locker (you had to stand in the shower to close the door), and were on our merry way by 8am the next morning.
By the time we reached my brother’s house we were a stinky, sweaty, tired mess. But you know what? It was actually so fun. Dutch talked the entire way. He didn’t sleep a wink. He talked. And talked. And talked. And he repeats everything he says at least three times. And because he’s obsessed with trucks, his repeated talking was a running commentary on every single truck we saw. “Oh what’s that dozer? What’s that dozer? What’s that dozer? Blue Mack truck! Blue Mack truck! Blue Mack truck! Where’d the PapaTruck go? Where’d the PapaTruck go? Where’d the PaperTruck go?” Yes, 800 miles of that.
But what struck me as we drove was that we all jumped on board with making the trip fun for Dutch. Dad, spotting a tractor way ahead, would say, “Hey Dutch, wanna see a tractor?” and of course Dutch would reply in the affirmative and moments later he’d squeal in delight as we passed a tractor. And as our trip came to a close I realized that Dutch really probably thought that we took that trip as a special “Truck Tour” just for him. We saw paving equipment and farm equipment, Hummers and Jeeps and Motorhomes. Of course we were on a journey of our own, but it was well-disquised as a special treat for our boy.
I’ve thought of that so often with this housing answer-to-prayer. There’s so much more to it than just a place for us to live. The trip is more than a Truck Tour. We might think, “Oh fun! We get to live in our favorite neighborhood with fun neighbors and a safe place to play and new carpet and rooms to decorate!” But God is up to so much more. And unlike Dutch, who is oblivious to the greater journey around him, I pray that we are aware that even in the our delight and joy in God’s gifts, we watch and pray and sense the activity of God around us. Even as Jeff and I went into our “design appointment” where we got to pick our our carpet and cabinets and so forth, we prayed on the drive there, “God this is YOUR house, it’s YOUR money. Lead us and make this home a haven for hurting people, a beautiful blessing that brings peace to lost souls. Use this physical dwelling for Your glory somehow.” And I pray that He does. Even though I’m doing plenty of silly squealing along the way as I see trucks and dozers, so to speak, I pray that I can tune into God’s greater purposes. Of course it’s ok to “just” bask in His blessings, the same way I love it when Dutch simply delights in our gifts to Him, but I also pray for a heart to be attuned what He’s doing behind the scenes, for His Kingdom, for His glory.
And, because of the Sacredness of the Mundane, we know that if anything matters, everything matters. So I’ll pray, raise my kids, and pick out carpet-color for the glory of God. I pray for the grace to both keep my eyes on the finish line of glory and also enjoy the trucks and dozers along the way.