Welcome To Blues Travels

Today was a good day. It was a day for reflection.

When I got back to my hotel room I found myself in a very pensive mood. I sat there quietly in the dark, thinking about the past four years of my life. For what ever reason it dawned on me that there are two very different types of people in this world. Yet, as different as they are they share something in common.

One type of person is the quiet type who is content staying within themselves. They often stay at home, never venturing out of their comfort zone very much. They may pass through this world unnoticed by the masses, and are perfectly content to do so. They may not be successful in the traditional sense and they may never make a profound impact on the world in the way that someone like Bill Gates did. Still, in their own way these people make the world go round. They often make the best of friends. They are wonderful listeners. They are often loyal. At least this has been my experience. I enjoy this kind of person. At times I have been this kind of person.

The other type of person is a mover and a shaker. Often ambitious, they are always on the go. They are typically very busy people, usually hustling this deal or that deal, meeting people right and left, making contacts, going out to parties. You get the idea. These people are great as well. They often times are the business leaders amongst us, the successful. The world needs them too.

Yet, these two strikingly dissimilar people share something in common and it’s this: By virtue of the extreme lives they lead, they often miss the special moments in life that make life meaningful in the truest sense.

For the purposes of this essay, let’s define a moment as a divine appointment. A “moment” is God’s way of meeting up with you at some point in the day for the purposes of trying to teach you something, or maybe just to say hello and that He lovers you. A “moment” happens when God intervenes in the events in a persons life, but in order to experience a moment, in order to recognize it, a person needs to possess a quiet spirit that is willing to be outgoing. That is a tough combination to bring to a moment. Indeed, it is a paradox in my opinion. Another way of putting is that we need to be in the world, yet not of the world.

Busy people are often so caught up in getting from point “A” to point “Z” that they totally miss out on the letters in between. They miss a huge collective of divinely appointed moments that can make up a life because they are too distracted to see them. They fail to see that the journey IS the destination.

On the other hand, quiet people are often so self-introspective and withdrawn that they never get out and interact with life in a meaningful way. Whereas busy people are concerned about getting from point “A” to point “Z”, some people are so withdrawn that they can’t even see past point “A”. Indeed, point “A” is right where that want to stay. They have no interest in going anywhere or doing anything other than contemplating their navels. As a result, they miss out on countless divine appointments because in fact, they never show up on time, if at all.

This trip I am taking has helped me see this. The past four years have taught me this.

When I moved back home to spend time with my mom (and eventually care for her), I was so caught up in her illness that I no doubt missed many special moments with her. I was secluded in the country at moms house. I rarely left the confines of that property, accept to take mom to the doctor or the emergency room or to do some shopping for us. In essence, I was pretty isolated. I really was not involved in life; I wasn’t interacting with it much. When I wasn’t devoted to my moms care, I was by myself. I had lot’s of time to myself. Perhaps too much. I became too self-involved to experience moments with others.

Occasionally, I was present for some wonderful moments. Of course, Blue (my Birman friend) stands out as a wonderful example of a moment in my life that I was present for. He was so sweet, and what a companion. We were like peas and carrots. My four years with mom was special too, but unlike my relationship with Blue the circumstances surrounding my relationship with mom made things stressful. I just was too busy internally to be available emotionally in the moment. Does that make sense?

Fortunately, in the midst of this hell storm that was my mom’s life as well as mine, there was another moment that I was present for. It was a day with mom stands out as being really sublime. It took place in Bedford, VA sometime in 2002. Autumn I think it was.

Bedford, VA is a very special town. It’s barely a blip on any GPS system, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains about thirty minutes southwest of Lynchburg, VA. If you were traveling from Lynchburg to Roanoke VA, you will likely pass through Bedford and never even know you were there. Yet, in spite of it’s diminutive size Bedford VA enjoys a rather lofty position in this nations history. In addition to being home to one of the most beautiful national monuments in the world, Bedford also has the singular distinction of having lost more men per capita to the Beaches of Normandy than any other town or city in the USA. It was for this fact alone that Bedford VA was selected to be home for The National D-Day Memorial.

It was the fall of 2002 and Mom was pretty sick at that point. There was a real since of urgency to things. Mom had always wanted to visit the D-Day Memorial. So had I. Therefore, we decided it would be a great idea to visit the D-Day Memorial together while she and I shopped for a car for my brother. And why not? It was a beautiful day in the fall, and although Mom was sick, she was still able to walk on her own. We had a lovely day ahead of us, and at the time it never dawned on me that the next time I visited the memorial, mom would be dead and I would be searching for myself. I guess at the time, I always held out for moms recovery. I always hoped she would get better and go into remission. I believed she would be ok.

So, fast forward to present day.

Mom only just died in late January of this year (2004 - the time of this posting), yet for some reason it seems like ages ago and my memory needed refreshing. Last night, as I drove from Westminster MD, heading south to destinations somewhat unknown, I decided to stop over in Bedford, VA on my way to Vaguely, North Carolina. I wanted to remember. I wanted to remember holding moms hand. I wanted to remember Mom. My past needed revisiting. I decided to stay over for the night in Bedford. The next day I would go back to the memorial for only the second time in my life.

I arrived at the memorial this morning. I walked slowly from the car up the long pathway leading to the monument and once I was at the top of the compound, I found a place to just lean on, a railing of some sort, which allowed me to gaze out into the beautiful and historic vistas. The memorial is so serene, with a roaring waterfall that becomes everything as you stand amid the artwork. It really is breathtaking.

And yet, while the serenity is all around you, you cannot help but be struck by the awe, the terror and sacrifice that is war.

So many thoughts and memories of that day with mom came flooding back to my mind. I could see mom walking slowly along the waters edge. I could see her smiling, moving around in a small body, devastated with cancer and beaten by drugs, but still possessing an indomitable spirit at that point. I remembered feeling somewhat sad, seeing her that way. But it was a good time. It was pleasant. It was a moment that I would treasure for the rest of my life. It was one of the clearest moments with my mom and it was good.

As I stood in the midst of that monument for only my second time on this 2004 fall day, I really wished mom could have been with me. I really wanted to talk to her. So much has happened to me (would happen); so much has changed (would change).

Just then, an old man walked up to me. He had a cane. He was 83. He told me his brother was a D-Day Veteran. And for some reason he told me he had cancer. He told me the drugs were killing him, but that otherwise he was OK. He wished he didn’t have to take the drugs. I told him I understood and I mentioned what I had been through with mom. We spoke at some length about mom and about his health. And with that he walked away. It was a brief moment, but a moment nonetheless. Perhaps this was not my moment. Maybe it was his moment. After all, not all moments are meant for us. Sometimes, we are meant to be a moment for someone else. But either way, whether a moment is for us, or we are for someone else’s moment, moments require a stillness, and at the same time being willing to be engaged at the exact instant a moment presents itself.

I left Bedford, VA for Roanoke. I decided to take the back way, avoiding the major highway. I wanted to just think. I wanted to be still. As I drove through the town of Bedford, I passed slowly through a small neighborhood. I was watching the houses to my right and left, going slowly so as to take it all in, when I passed a small gathering of people on the side of the street in front of one of the houses. They were huddled over a cat. They were obviously crying, and I knew at once what was happening. I knew more than most people could know. I know what they were feeling. I pulled my car around and headed back to the spot where they were gathered. I was crying too, but I didn’t let them notice. I just spent time with them. I offered them comfort. It was a moment and I was available for it because I was quiet.

Well, time for me to say good night for now. Blue says he will see you down the road. Remember, life is about moments. A life without moments is not much of a life. I hope each of you has as many moments you can get.