My Facebook feed has been filled with pictures of friends and family on vacation. Some have taken trips to beach destinations, some to other spots in the US, and a few, places in Europe. There was a shot made by a friend from her beach chair– her bare feet pointed toward the ocean as she relaxed on her solo vacation. Others have shown families making sandcastles during the day and in the evening, stunning sunsets. Two married couples have posted their trips abroad, one to Norway and the other, taking a kayak through caves Portugal. In all the photos, the people look relaxed and are often smiling–apparently enjoying their time away.

I don’t have a vacation planned for this summer. But during the past week, I was working on some chapters for the sequel memoir, that has been sitting on the shelf far too long. The journey in that portion of the book, started on Chincoteague Island on the Eastern Shore of Virginia and ended in Baltimore, Maryland. Reworking that section made me feel like I was back on that trip. I have lots of notes and pictures from each solo journey and it’s easy for me to slip into present tense when I’m writing those chapters; it all feels like it’s happening now. I’m back there and reliving everything–but through the lens of hindsight.

I’ve often felt pulled to the water for my yearly journeys. Being near oceans or large lakes— like Lake Michigan, always has a calming effect on me–as it does for many. The year I went to Chincoteague, I was in the midst of being a middle school nurse and helping to care for Mama, who had dementia. I was worn down in every way and a remote setting with nature all around– the Assateague National Seashore, was the perfect place for me to be restored. That was what I was seeking most in that trip. Before every journey, I pray that God will bless me–and the people and places in my path. Part of the adventure is seeing what good things show up in my path.

In my memoir, He Heard My Voice, which I published in April of 2019, I noted that I had found a perfect guidebook for going on yearly solo journeys. Those trips had become spiritual pilgrimages for me. The book by Phil Cousineau, The Art of Pilgrimage helped me understand all the phases of that type of journey. He refers to the “boon” as what you return with from your trip–that blessing you received, that story you’ll share with others that will help them, a favor you’d sought and was granted.

Thinking about my trip to Chincoteague Island and Baltimore, the gifts from that trip were partly what I’d hoped for: time to rest and restore in a natural setting. I had a few interesting conversations with native islanders that added to the richness of my three days on Chincoteague. In Baltimore, the Brownstone hostel in the historic section of the city, provided a setting of interesting art and architecture. The Basilica across the street from the hostel, was my sanctuary for morning prayer and a relief from the sweltering July heat.

Being there the second half of the trip had filled my creative well with images of beauty and form. A favorite historic building was the George Peabody Library, a visual feast of books and architecture.

Several weeks after I returned from that trip, in the beginning of our school year in August, our family was faced with the tough realization that it was time to place Mama in a nursing facility; we could no longer safely care for her in her home. On the day that I had to drive to Sanford to join my sisters in taking Mama to Parkview, I realized the biggest “boon” of my journey.

On my final day at Chincoteague, I’d spent the morning at the public beach area at Tom’s Cove. A storm blew in and we had to clear the beach. Rather than driving back to my motel, I decided to sit in my car and eat my lunch and watch the storm–something I’ve seldom felt I had the time to do. I always carry companion music and books on my trips and that year I’d brought along the CD “Ten Thousand Reasons” by Matt Redmond. Sitting in my car, the song, “Never Once” came on. At that moment, a man pulled in beside me in a jeep. While everyone else had quickly left the beach in the slanting rain and stinging sand, the man headed straight into the storm, his head held high as he walked toward the surf.

The beat of the piano matched his steps and the words of the chorus came, “Never Once did we ever walk alone. Never Once did you leave us on our own. You are faithful, God, You are faithful.” The man walked along the shore and seemed unbothered by the pouring rain. I turned on my wipers so I could see him better. Eventually, he returned to his jeep and left. That image of the man walking straight into the storm while the song played, the rain washing down my windshield, imprinted on my brain.

When I drove over Jordan Lake heading to Sanford, to do the thing we’d dreaded, I played “Never Once” and felt the rain of that day as the tears streamed down my face. I kept repeating the words, “You are faithful, God you are faithful” and knew that we would have the strength to do what we had to do; and we did. I will always remember that day watching that man and the image that helped me through the tough time that was ahead of me. That was the biggest Boon of that trip. It may seem inconsequential to some people, but it was the very thing I needed.

I think about all the trips we take, all the vacations and wonder what are the Boons for us. It could be the rest and renewal that we’d hoped for is exactly what we find. It could be that we have our creativity energized by the landscape we’ve never seen or by buildings that are so different from those we know. Or maybe the treasure we bring back is the unexpected conversation we have with a family member that helps us understand ourselves, or understand that person in a new way. Maybe while building a sandcastle with a child, he or she tells us about a fear they have that has been a secret. By lingering in the luxury of time without the usual pressures, we make new discoveries that change us.

Boons come in all forms when our eyes are open and our hearts are receptive. That’s the nature of what is found on a spiritual pilgrimage and the same can be true on a vacation. My hope for you is whether you journey far from home, or stay closer by, you’ll receive the boon that is just what you need.

Blessings to you on this day,

Connie