ready, set, go.

For the last two Fridays, I've been taking care of two little boys in San Antonio.  It's actually been a while since I had a babysitting gig, which is funny, because I can remember a time when it's literally all I ever did.  I'm pretty sure I was making more money at it than I do now, too, but that's another story.

The boys and I decided the only thing possible to do on a near-fatal, triple-digit high, summer day like today was to hit the pool.  So, I took them to their grandfather's house where they could take turns doing cannonballs off the diving board.  My only rules: no running, and don't kill each other.  When the boys had their fill of breath-holding competitions and seeing who could touch the bottom, we sat in pool chairs beneath large shade trees.  Their grandfather's house is near the airport, so every few minutes a giant jetliner roared over our heads and off to some unknown destination.

"Where is that plane going?" I would ask, to which Nick replied, "Mexico!"
"And that one?"  "Australia!!"
Our game continued, and as we listed off exotic and not-so-exotic (such as Nebraska?) destinations, that little cauldron of restlessness began to stir within me.  I found myself wishing I was onboard one of these great, silver birds, off to start a new adventure in a place I've never been.  I imagined a different existence for myself, that I was some illustrious jet-setter, skipping wildly from continent to continent like some giant game of hopscotch.  A citizen of the world, the edges of my passport frayed with use, its pages giving clues to the scenery of my life.  I allowed myself to get lost in this dream for a while.

But like all dreams worth having, I faded slowly back into reality.  The boys had grown bored sitting in chairs and were now begging me for the ice cream that had been promised to them.  "Now can we have ice cream, Taylor?  Now??"  Their dream was so much different than mine, and so much more attainable!  If only world travel were as easy as reaching into the freezer, scooping up a foreign language here, a new culture there, with all the sights and sounds and smells sprinkled wonderfully on top...

Yes, I feel ready for some kind of journey.  Though I feel mine will traverse the human spirit rather than the globe.  The miles I travel will not take me overseas but into new territories of the heart.  There will still be customs to go through, and I will surely get lost, frustrated with myself, even overwhelmed at times.  But every voyage worth taking is difficult (thank God!) or else we'd return with pretty pictures yet no stories,  with suntanned skin but an unchanged heart.  I want to discover real beauty, the kind that pierces you, disables you, then transforms you from the inside out.  I've already left, you see, and I'm on a plane of a different kind.  I'm taking off into a hot summer day, my engines roaring loudly to remind restless citizens below that we were all born to fly.

P.S.  Check out this song by Andrew Peterson called "World Traveler."  He says it much more beautifully than I do :)