Sun, Sand, and Renewal

Jason's grandfather passed away several years ago, and with his passing so went the summer tradition of a family vacation for the Brown/Jeffries family.  This past week, the tradition has been reinstated and I believe we found the place we'd all like to return year after year.  Muskegon, Michigan is home of the Maranatha Bible and Conference Center.  Robin & Jonathan sort of stumbled upon it online in what I believe was a total gift of God plopped down in our laps.

The condo overlooked Lake Michigan and a few short steps took us past a pool, a swing set, and onto a private, beautiful beach furnished with shaded porch swings and a couple volleyball nets.  Putt putt, zip lines, a climbing tower, tennis courts, kayaks, an indoor gym, and a scrumptious sweet shop were also available.  We didn't take in any of the church meetings or Bible studies, nor did we check the kids into the daily supervised fun activities they could participate in without us.  There's always next year, though, and with our 3-day visit we decided to just soak up the sun, the sand, and the waves...and conquer a few sand dunes while we were at it.

Jason and I tried to plan our first road trip as a family of 5 very carefully.  We decided to wake up the kids around 5 a.m. and start the drive, in hopes of a few quiet hours while they finished out their sleep.  McKinley gave us the first clue that our plan was not going to be followed when we entered her room to get her and Ethan out of bed.  She popped up, and with a split-second pause between each word, declared:  Vacation!  Swim!  Mamaw!  Hayley!  Malerie!  Although asleep before McKinley's warm welcome, Ethan didn't miss a beat:  Daddy!  Vacation!  Yeah!  Aside from feeling left out of the excitement, it cracked me up to realize that at the young age of 2, they remembered what was going on and although they didn't really have any idea what we were doing, they knew what it was called and that it should be fun.  Ah, the power we hold as parents...

So a lively 5 hours later we arrived at Maranatha.  It was as picture-perfect as Robin had said it would be.  We immediately suited up and headed for the beach.  Elissa went straight for the waves with Hayley and loved watching and feeling the water soak her feet as they sunk into the wet sand.  Ethan tromped in, too, just far enough for the waves to splash up on his ankles and then he'd squeal with delight as he saw the next one coming. 

McKinley got close to the edge and quickly sat down farther back in the sand, very content to stay dry.  By mid afternoon, she was ready to sleep.  She passed up the offer for food, grabbed Elmo, and within seconds was asleep on the couch.  How precious.

Jason and I had an awesome time playing volleyball at the beach while the kids napped.  Grandmas are the best!  I'm definitely not the player I once was, which wasn't exactly fabulous even then.  But at least this time, Jason refrained from announcing to the court his famous proclamation of my "glory days", which always just  makes me look even more stupid when I mess up.  So, much thanks, honey.  The only bad thing about playing was that it made me feel old and out of shape, and Jason majorly hurt his big toe.  That didn't stop him from doing all the activities the rest of the trip, though.

Several grocery trips supplied great food for the changing group as people who had arrived earlier in the week gradually left town.  The most delectable item for me, though, was the ice cream from the Sweet Shop on site.  We decided to walk the kids up to the shop after dinner on Thursday night as a fun "outing" for them.  Robin, Jason, Julie, Justin, and I had our minds set on some brownies at the condo and were just going to taste the kids' ice cream.  I accordingly ordered four Baby size cups of ice cream and an extra Baby size for the adults to split in case the kids didn't want to share with us.  So, either the word Baby has extremely different meanings in Michigan or they are just really, really, really generous at their Sweet Shop.  For $1.50 each we received about 3 hand-dipped scoops of ice cream.  Yes, altogether that would be 15 scoops of ice cream for 4 kids to devour and 4 adults to simply taste test.  Needless to say, we had plenty to take back and put on top of our brownies.  :)

As I rethink the trip, it's funny to me that the only things we really tried to be intentional about planning (the ride up and the ride home) are the things that went awry. We decided on Friday to let the kids stay up and skip naps, again with the vision that we would have a sleepier crew in the car.  Ethan hit melt down at about 5:00 that evening, tugging on his ear and using his incessant whiny moan for which he's famous.  After getting the kids through their dinner, we made the bad decision to let them pig out on cookies and chocolate milk so that they would be content enough to allow us a peaceful dinner ourselves.  Ethan fell asleep on my lap at the dinner table around 7:30 and it looked as if all would be well for the quiet car ride home.

About 10 minutes after our departure, a sleeping Ethan coughed a few times and then threw up, in a projectile fashion no less, about four times in a row.  Poor little guy was traumatized, I was turned around in my seat as best I could to try to "catch" it all in his blanket, Jason was taking an immediate turn to pull over, McKinley snoozed away, and Elissa was so engrossed in her fun pack from Mamaw that she didn't even really notice. 

As I scrubbed the car seat as best I could, my conversation with God went something like this: Seriously, God?  We have about 5 hours ahead of us.  Why couldn't this have happened 11 minutes ago?  Now the car smells, the car seat is wet, and I we have no idea if he's going to keep getting sick. I’ve used up nearly all the baby wipes on this first mess. Please, please, please, keep Ethan safe and get us home without another incident. Oh, yeah, and somehow if I’m supposed to be learning something through this…teach me quickly.  [No audible voice, but more just reflecting on the truths I’ve learned, it seemed like God replied: So life’s not all about you, right? It’s not about your comfort and your glory and your enjoyment. You’ve had a great vacation. Does this really change all that? Are you suddenly complaining and ungrateful at the first signs of struggle. Remember what Pastor Mark’s been teaching. Hard is hard. Hard is not bad.] Ok, God. You’re right...of course. I have a lot to be thankful for right now. Thanks for a husband who’s loving and calm in these situations and for girls who don’t even notice. And thanks for a great past few days that would have been much less fun with a sick kid. And thanks for giving me much, much more than I ever deserve. And please, no more puking. Please.

So, I’m still not really sure the lesson I was to learn. Maybe God was just getting my attention because I’d been at a place designed to be all about Him, and I hadn’t really spent much time with Him. Maybe He was teaching me that planning isn’t what it’s always all about. Maybe even on fun vacations I still need to be sure my kids' health is my priority.  Or maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about me at all. Maybe there was someone who drove by, saw the mess we were in, and was somehow encouraged about their own bad day. One thing I do know:  No more chocolate milk and cookies before a road trip.