An Inch on the Map

I walked Eli the hound down the hallway of the Super 8 Motel on the seedy side of Wichita and let him sniff at each door. They say that the way dogs use their olfactories is how we use our eyes - we look around to get our bearings. They sniff around to get their bearings. Poor Elias is traumatized by this car trip. He has very little room in the car and is utterly alarmed that we and a portion of our worldly goods are fleeing (kind of a slow-motion fleeing) for parts unknown. He doesn't like change. (He used to get frantic when I would move his crate in the kitchen to mop underneath it. He would also get frantic if his dog blanket was rumpled in the least. Nice and smooth is best. Guthrie was the opposite, he would twirl his up, or sometimes Eli's. Thus the frantic-isms on Eli's part.)

So I let him sniff at doors. In dog sense, it seems only fair to be able to smell the neighbors on his way outside. Sniff, sniff, blow, at the righthand corner of the door. Sniff, sniff, blow at the other corner. And the muffled conversation in Room 101 stopped short. Suddenly, I realized that the occupants of all of these rooms we'd been sniffing could possibly hear the sniff, sniff, blow. (Especially the blow, which is short and abrupt and could, to an untrained ear, sound like a snort of disbelief.) I don't know if the family in Room 101 had any idea who or what was doing the sniffing. But they knew they had been sniffed. I stifled a laugh and exited with Eli out the nearby side door before there was time for inquiry.

It's been a long few days. As though we've been driving through molasses. We are, proudly, in Wichita, Kansas, a mere 700 some miles from home, having taken three days to accomplish a little more than one day's worth of driving. One of our high points comes every time we return to the car and the tubs are still strapped to the car top rails. It makes us happy that no one has stolen our stuff. Another high point (for me) is that there's a website vegguide.org that tells me vegetarian-friendly food options in every city. This is a big deal for my very difficult diet. As my dad said yesterday, after I returned to the buffet at India Palace in Ames Iowa for the Third time, when you find something you can eat, you better "load up." Indeed.

My dad and I have become Proficient at using all of the GPS-type apps on my iPad. We find our destinations, our hotels, our meals, and - very important for everyone's peace of mind - local dog parks, wending our way through cities using these tools. Amazing. They always know where we are. So when we left Winstead's Diner (Proudly serving Kansas City for 70 years) and Easily found the best dog park on earth for the pups to run briefly and my dad realized his wallet was missing, we could GPS our way back to the diner where no wallet had been turned in and ID, a medical card, and $100 some dollars were in the wind. Ah well. They were all replacement cards. My dad's first wallet for the trip was lost in Eau Claire.

"I'm setting some kind of record for number of cities for losing wallets," he commented.

It's all good. Frankly I'm glad it's gone. It was a stress to worry that he might lose his wallet. Now it's done I'm sorry about the $100 but it's a small price to pay for less worry, I decided.

So I come back to the room from Eli's sniffing escapade and Dad is sitting on the bed in his undershirt.

"Something else happened," he said.

"Oh? What is that?" I asked.

"I can't find my money belt." The traveller's belt worn under your clothes to keep your cash and passport hidden.

Wha? I looked up in alarm only to see the black money belt hanging around his neck, under his undershirt.

"It's right there!" I say.

"That's $800 gone," he replies in distress.

"Dad, it's around your neck," I say.

"What?"

"You hung it around your neck!"

And I laugh. He scared me.

There's really a lot to remember when you are remembering for two.

My knee, which I twisted painfully last night when Eli flung me to the pavement in the parking lot at the La Quinta Inn Kansas City, in a fast move with his leash, while I was carrying in baggage, is better today. I am favoring it, but all is well. And it made me have to stop and think. Why are so many things going wrong?! (When I am trying so hard, is the implication.) And when I finally ask the question, the answer is usually: because you're trying too hard. LIfe with God as my travel agent (and provider and source of Peace and everything good) means trusting Him and letting go of My Vision for What Should Happen, and knowing that my circumstances are in His hands. Don't fret over luggage or timetables or wallet absconders. Circumstances are not circumstantial. There's intricate purpose in the way things fall together (or they don't) and it always is for the best for me, however hard, (and most difficult to see that when I am Impeding it with all my might as I sometimes do). For all I know, there's a guy on duty at the border who would have it in for us but he's off on Sunday or Monday or whenever we'll be passing through now, and we will never know what calamities we circumvented by living out Plan B instead of Plan A. We will never know. Except we do know - not the specifics, but that every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father of heavenly lights, that He knows each time a sparrow falls and how much more does He care for and give good gifts to His children than to sparrows. (I'm mixing verses.) He carries out good on my behalf. Not because of me but because it brings Him glory and He is all about His glory. So, when I, too, am all about His Glory and His plan and relinquishing my inclination to Control Circumstances, leaving them in His hands, and roll with the punches and twisted knees of life, even my little speck of a short existence on earth shines out a little glory of God. Oh to keep this in mind when the melatonin doesn't work on Eli who is frantic in the back seat, wanting to get out of the car, and I am looking to see if this is our exit, and my dad is wondering where the CD of the "Cathedral Singers Male Quartet" (which my mom did not send with us) is. That's a good time to remember: Hold Plan A loosely. Plans B through Z are great.

(This is the first trip I've wondered if I might even make it to a plan Z!)

Praying for a little more than an inch on the map tomorrow, but good with however it goes!

Love and Adoration,

Susana buscando Belize
(Susan in search of Belize)