Trust in Plan B

Isn't this part of faith? 

Trust that there will always be a Plan B.

Trailer Travel

I have a new fascination with trailer travel. Recently, a friend sent me a link for tiny trailers. Not sure I could go that small. But that led to links about restoring vintage trailers. Which led to links about other trailer options. I was off in a world of imaginary travels.

We used to joke that when our kids were all grown and in homes of their own, my husband and I would get an RV to live in and visit them around the country. We are not at that point yet, but someday?

Have you had a trailer? Any thoughts? On our recent road trip I was impressed by the variety and quantity of the trailers out there. My theme song of traveling lighter could be well lived in a cute little trailer...

Worth the Risk

Before 

Two weeks ago, before our ten day trip, I wrote about the risks of planting my little seedlings outside when there was still a chance of snow and frost. The morning we drove away, dressed in shorts and sandals for our desert destination, it was twenty-seven degrees. I hoped my little plants would stay snug and alive under their fabric cover, blanket of straw and spring sunshine.

The results? Beyond my expectations and well worth the risk.

The lettuces, chard, beets and kale (and the weeds!) grew several inches. The nasturtiums are smaller, but still alive.

This week, I will plant more seeds in the garden soil. We should be past any chance of frost now - but this is Colorado, and an odd year of weather. I bought seed for rainbow chard - look forward to watching those colorful plants grow.

The biggest challenge for me in taking risks is fear. What will happen if I fail? Will I look like a fool? To focus instead on what I can learn, even in failure, to see creative options and opportunities for faith, to step outside of the familiar - those risks are worth taking.

Home Again

A 3,000 mile circle, ten days, six states. A celebration, family visits, spectacular scenery. The beauty, the family times, all a tiny foretaste of heaven.

10,000 feet in the Rockies

Home. Sometimes it is wonderful to leave, to travel, to expand your horizons. Even better to come back to.

Home again.

On the Road

Congratulations!

Our son was also on the golf team

Tune My Heart

"Come Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above;
Praise His name - I'm fixed upon it -
Name of God's redeeming love."

Come Thou Fount, by Robert Robinson

It's Risky

Yesterday, I wavered and wondered and debated and wishy-washed, should I, or shouldn't I?

And the questionable issue? Do I wait to plant out my baby seedlings with snow predicted (again!), or do I risk it and put them out? Now, obviously, this is not a life critical problem. But it got me thinking about taking risks, about my attitudes and fears when I come to a risky situation.

• what is the worst that can happen?
• how much would I lose?
• what could I gain?
• why am I afraid?
• how could [this] be worse than [that]?
• how could [this] be better than [that]?
• what could I learn?
• what are my options, how can I think creatively?
• will the consequences require faith (a good thing)?

What other questions would you think of?

Once I analyzed my resistance and the potential consequences, the decision was easy. Plant the seedlings. 

The worst that can happen is they will freeze and I will have to replant. Not a huge deal. This is the first time I planted seedlings inside under a florescent light, and I learned a lot - those lessons will stay with me even if the plants don't.

Am I afraid the experiment won't work? If I'm afraid to try anything new, I'll never get out of bed in the morning (which some mornings, might be tempting...)

If I leave them under the florescent light while we are gone for ten days, they will probably dry out, shrivel up, and I'll lose them anyway. If I plant them outside, they might survive and actually be bigger and stronger when we get back.

Judging by the crazy weather this spring, with a snowfall every week in the middle of eighty degree days, the plants will have plenty of warm days - if they survive the freeze tonight. I can take the precautions of mulching them heavily with straw and blanketing them with a cloth covering which will give them a ten degree advantage.

Because we are living in a new climate, I need to stretch my boundaries and knowledge of what plants will do here. Which means trial, and of course, error, and not to be afraid of the error side of learning.

You may laugh at my over-analytic, wishy-washy thinking. Over a bunch of little seedlings. The lesson I am taking away from this, is that, too often, I put off making a decision. I wait for more information. I wonder and wander and debate myself out of making a choice. Instead, I need to ask these questions, form answers and make the choice. Get rid of the baggage of vacillation and move forward, traveling lighter.

I planted all the seedlings. And yes, it is snowing today. I took the risk. I hope they will stay warm and snug under their blanket of straw and fabric cover. When the sun comes out again, they will perk up, stretch toward the light, and grow.

Me, too.