#WhereAreTheUbryTerrells ... Leg 12: California (again!)

If you’ve ever looked at a U.S. map, you know that we had to drive through Nevada to get to California from Utah, but we were on a mission for the first time in weeks: to get to our oldest granddaughter’s graduation. (You know Trinitie already. She was on Leg 1 of this journey with us, giving a thumbs-up while Randy changed our flat tire.) So we blazed through Nevada in one day, only stopping for a good night’s rest (perhaps the best of the entire trip so far!) alongside the beautiful Walker Lake, (which appears to be free to campers all along its perimeter... yay!).

It was such an honor to see Trinitie walk with her class, receive her handshake and diploma, and toss her mortar-board into the air. It brought back a flood of memories of my own high school graduation day, 20 years ago (20 years!). I remember my dad handing me my diploma (not too many people get to experience that huge honor!), my valedictorian speech (it had something to do with snowflakes--I got the idea from a graduation card someone gave me a few days before), and hugs and parties with friends afterwards (where I was super sad that we were all parting ways… some of those friends who I haven’t seen since that day!).

But what struck me the most is that I don’t feel like I know much more about life 20-years later than I did that day. I’m still wondering what God has planned for my future. I’m still conflicted—my heart in multiple places—about where and how I’m called to serve. I’m still just taking each day and decision as they come, hoping and praying I’m at least getting it partially right.

For the most part, it all just feels like a crapshoot. Sometimes we get lucky and get it right. Sometimes we get it way wrong and have to about-face with our tail between our legs. Sometimes we get it wrong on purpose. And sometimes we look back, 20-years later, and realize most of those decisions weren’t nearly as important—as life-altering—as we made them out to be, because chances are we would have ended up right here where God intended regardless of what major we chose or job we quit or boy we dated or car we drove.

That all might sound super depressing but I actually find it really encouraging. Because if I’m never going to have it all figured out, then I can stop trying so hard. (There is no need to be a perfectionist after you realize you are never going to be perfect!) If I stop trying to figure it all out and have the “perfect” plan in my head, then when I make a mistake or it doesn’t materialize, I haven’t shattered my hopes and dreams. Instead, I can focus my energy on doing the next right thing, the thing that feels most right, that feels most God-ordained in this moment. Whether it’s moving to Mexico to volunteer at an orphanage or taking an epic road trip with my husband, walking across Spain or saving the whales. Once we stop worrying about what everyone will think when they realize we only have half a clue, we can do the things that give us joy for the sheer fact that they give us joy (doesn’t that sound nice!).

I suppose I'll never be asked to show up at my alma mater to give another graduation speech... especially if it includes words like "crapshoot". But hey, you never know. Maybe one day they'll take a chance on me...

So... back to California. After celebrating Trinitie’s graduation and acceptance into college (she really is going to save the whales!), we set off on the next phase of our road trip. And added another traveling gnome: Trinitie’s 10-year-old brother, Van.

With each of her 4 kids, Randy’s daughter has let them have a solo-summer adventure with a grandparent when they turned 10. Van is the youngest of the 4 and finally came of age… just in time to join us for our road trip! (My grandparents took me on vacation with them once to Wisconsin. I remember we got lost and sang lots of songs about Iowa corn. I wonder what Van’s memories will be…)

Our first stop, now as a family of 4 (we still have the Chihuahua), was Randy’s second-to-oldest brother, Rod, who lives in northern California. As soon as we arrived we hit the trails. Going for a hike after several hours in the car was just what I needed! 

Randy's brothers are all very different. What I like about Rod is that he has a peace about him that makes you want to slow down, to see what he sees, hear what he hears, and feel the ground beneath your feet. 

Van missed out on all that during the first hike because he had his ear buds in like a typical kid, but Randy quickly laid down the law: no ear buds in nature! I know lots of people hike with music, but Randy and I never have. We like to hear the birds, the frogs, the twigs cracking beneath our feet, and feel like we'd be cheating ourselves of the experience if we missed any of it. 

For the next few days, Rod was our host: cooking for us and taking us to new trails to explore, showing us "his" California. Rod recently had knee surgery, so hiking is part of his physical therapy, but it does limit how long and strenuous of a hike he can do. Which meant Van had plenty of time to watch television. I couldn't get over how deeply this kid got sucked in by zombie flicks. I was soon itchy to get on the road again, to be more fully immersed in nature, and to get the kid away from the undead!

And because we never do things the easy way, we headed west to the coast, even though Portland, Oregon, to the north was really our next destination. We arrived late, with barely enough light left to see the beach where we would park for the night. (We thought Van would love sleeping in a parking lot--what an adventure!--but he apparently has issues with public toilets. Boy this kid is in for it this summer!) 

We got up early the next morning and enjoyed a long walk on Clam Beach, finding beautiful rocks and shells, sinking to our knees, and splashing in the water. 

Exactly a month had passed since this journey began, when Randy and I stood on a San Diego pier, full of excitement about the road ahead. We had already seen so much beauty, how could the next month possibly compare? 

Just up the road was Redwoods National and State Parks. And if anything could compare to the beauty we had just seen in Colorado, Arizona, and Utah, it was definitely the Redwoods. Randy and I both immediately felt the healing power of these trees. Ancient. Tall. Rooted. Nurturing. Ethereal. Fierce. 

We walked for hours amidst the trees, banana slugs, elk, birds, and (thankfully!) very few humans. It wasn't enough time. No amount of time would have been enough time. But these trees gave me hope for the next leg of this adventure, hope that we haven't exhausted our appreciation for beauty just yet.