The Joy of the Journey

My family and I decided to take a quick day-trip to my sister's to spend time with the auntie and catch up on some shopping. The two-hour trek in our eight-year-old van was a bit sketchy since we have had some mechanical issues, but our mechanic assured me it would make the trip.

Unfortunately, once we arrived, we realized the automatic transmission would not shift, so the rpms exceeded the comfort zone. The bigger question was getting home that evening - no shop would be open on a Sunday, let alone a long holiday weekend. Long story short, we decided to put our trust in God, said a prayer to Him through the intercession of St. Christopher and St. Raphael, and headed down the interstate with our flashers on. (Nothing more frustrating than driving 78 miles-per-hour at night and coming upon a vehicle driving dangerously slow.)

Normally, a trip like this entails our four boys (mostly teenagers) listening to their iPods, reading a book, or, of course, sleeping. My wife and I will visit for awhile, and then she eventually dozes off with one hear open - in case I get sleepy.

A trip such as this, as it is for many people, is an opportunity to shut down. We as a culture have formed a habit of being in such a hurry that the destination is the focus, and the quickest possible way without distraction is the norm. We have forgotten how to enjoy the journey. I am reminded of the animated film Cars in which the joy of the trip is triumphant over the speed in which to reach a destination.

At any rate, the idea of this particular trip was met with opposition and an occasional whine (I am reminded of the phrase, "Are we there yet," though this time spoken in Teenese.) After miles and excessive minutes passed, they grew tired of the iPod, the eyes became fatigued with reading, and the naps no longer endured. Normally boredom evolves. But this time it was different. Dare I say...a miracle occurred.

It started with my oldest saying, "I'm thinking of a place. You have twenty questions." First it was just my wife asking the questions. I chimed in some (not my favorite game), then boy number-two, then boy number-four. Number-three held out the longest with a nap but eventually joined in.

The next hour-and-a-half seemed to fly by as we put everything aside and played "family." The climax of the trip came with our version of karaoke. My wife has a beautiful singing voice and her enthusiasm for music had been genetically transferred. The van was filled with the music of family as they joined Straight No Chaser, Harry, and Aida. (The boys are going to kill me for sharing that one.)

I just smiled, listened, and thanked God that sometimes we get it right.