We were just trying to get out of town... you'd think it wasn't that hard to do. It was our first official camping trip in our partially-renovated travel trailer. I've painted, Ken's tricked it all out with hoses and parts...we had made reservations two months ago to a sweet spot right smack-dab next door to a river near Tallulah Gorge (why didn't I name my girl-child Tallulah Elizabeth?) I still have a lot of things to do to get this baby finished, but we weren't going to wait until then to try her out. Christmas is coming and I've got other things to do. We were attempting to pull out by 2:30 on Friday, so we'd not have to be setting up camp in the dark. Stuff happens, but 3:30 wasn't too bad. We'd have a little daylight to work by. I was grumpy as an old bear -- with a weird infection in my mouth and a subsequent stomach reaction to the antibiotic. I was praying for a peaceful weekend, but my tummy was saying otherwise. I messaged my doctor, without any real hope of getting any resolution to my trials before next week.
But hope springs eternal, as the doc emailed me a note saying that she had changed my prescription and added something else that would help my poor, tortured mouth. By then, Ken and I were making great time up I-85, about to pass through Gwinnett. I tentatively asked if we could stop and pick up the prescription at an exit close to us. He agreed and quickly pulled off, knowing that this would put us past darktime when we got to the mountains. Of course, that "quick" detour turned into an hour. As we pulled out, the lights on the dash of our truck started turning dim. Ken ascertained that our battery or the alternator was dying. We keyed in the coordinates for the closest auto parts store and prayed. As we swung into the parking lot, the truck died with a shudder. If we hadn't made the drugstore stop, we'd have been stranded in no-mans-land up toward the hills. God looks after fools and children.
I was sucking down Pepto-Bismol while Ken tore up his hands taking off truck parts. Just as he finished installing both a new alternator and a new battery, our eldest son and his family pulled into the parking lot. They had driven all the way through Atlanta traffic to help us. And help us they did. There's nothing like grandchildren to make you remember that life can be a bowl of cherries. Their laughter and squeals took all the tension out of the air as we let go of our moaning and groaning. God obviously had plans for us that night, all twisted up and patently absurd. You just have to smile. We finally headed on our way, set up simple-like in the dark by the sound of rushing water. By midnight we crashed into our little bed and slept like warm puppies in a box. Saturday was the best of days: breakfast in a darling little cafe, shopping at the MackDaddy of Ace Hardware stores, then hours of languishing by the river with music playing and books in our hands. The next day was full of packing it all in and heading home, but the goody between the mayhem on both ends was extra special. If the "goody" was all that we lived for, we might be in trouble. God seems to like to wrangle a lot of worms in the bucket before we get any fish. And sometimes there aren't any fish. Sometimes, we push our way through the storm, pain from the front and pain from the rear. We grab each others' hands and pray that the wind don't kill us. Then spend the next days smiling at the humor He enjoys at our expense. If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans...
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