Road Trip to Tasha's -Part Two

    It was 1:45 p.m. when I pulled onto the interstate heading south. As I drove like a maniac, I felt a whole range of emotions. How could this be happening? Hadn’t I prayed? I had a dream about meeting Tasha Tudor. Only God could have arranged these circumstances in time, surely He didn’t want me to miss the opportunity to meet my favorite children’s book illustrator? My 10-year-old daughter was sitting right next to me, watching me. I knew that the way I handled this situation would deeply affect her character! If I lost it she would lose it too. I had to remain calm for her sake. I told her, “Now listen Elizabeth, Tasha Tudor is an eternal optimist. Do you know what that means? She makes the best out every situation she finds herself in. We’re going to think positively. God will get us there somehow!” My words resounded in my ears. I was giving myself the same pep talk.   
      As we flew down the road the Lord whispered in my ear. “Do you trust me?” 
     “Yes, Lord.” I replied. “I do trust you, but I am so disappointed!”
     He knew that I had wanted to savor every moment of the tour. I was going to take my time and drink it in. I was going to try to sketch Tasha’s house and some of the flowers in her garden. As far as I could see that wasn’t going to happen now. Even still, I felt God encouraging me that I was to trust Him for this situation and many others like it in my life, situations that look just as impossible. And isn’t that what faith is all about? Believing in what we can’t see? Why do we so easily forget that “…faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1. If only we understood the realm of the unseen, through the eyes of faith, we would simply rest and leave the results with God!
    I really didn’t know how we were going to get to the tour on time. I only knew we would get there. I had no other choice other than to trust God and keep driving! The temptation to take side roads was strong and yet past experience told me that the interstate was the fastest way to go. I drove for the most part at seventy-five miles and hour passing car after car, and Saratoga Springs where my journey had begun, until I came to the exit for the only two lane road between route 87 and our destination.
    Taking the scenic route during tourist season in Vermont can be aggravatingly slow. The minutes ticked by as I followed a procession of impatient drivers who were stuck behind some avid sight-seers sputtering along in a motor home, and a local cabinet maker who obviously had no pressing business needs. Surely we’d be there by 3:30…4:00?...4:30?…Surely not!

2:55 PM - Oct. 3, 2005 - post comment

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