Musings While Being Stuck In An Office

I want to be an outdoorsy girl. And I want to take a road trip.

I want to learn to fly-fish, and wade studiously in Montana waters, watching dragon flies buzz above a stream and trout glide beneath it. I want to camp out under the stars every single night, a thankful heart peacefully drifting off to sleep to the sound of crickets, toads and the rhythm of someone else’s steady breathing. I want to wake just as the sun is rising on the horizon, painting the sky the color of popsicles, the smell of coffee wafting from just feet away, all of these things serving to remind me that the Lord’s “compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” I want to sit outside my tent, face chilled from a breeze sweeping over the morning dew, wrapped warm and snug with my duvet around my shoulders, coffee gripped tightly between two hands, watching the grass sway over the hills in front of me, then turning my eyes to catch someone I love frying up bacon over a campfire as a smile spreads across his face.

I want to hike through craggy boulders, both giving and receiving a helping hand, as a long bearded mountain goats taunt me from up above and the sun warms my back and shoulders all day long. I want to push my body to climb rocks I am scared of, and force my muscles to sustain pain till they’re numb, while my mind summons courage as I recite over and over to myself “I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” and my feet search for some crevice to dig into. I want to arise and stand triumphant at the top of a plateau, surveying the vast and expansive land around me with eagle’s eyes, sharing the view of miles of breathtaking scenery with someone who helped me get there, and gasping in awe and wonderment at the God who created it all and how little we really are.

But I want my cake & eat it too. Because at the end of said day, I want to drown my aches and pains in a claw foot tub in the middle of a field, water so hot that steam rises above me like fog on the land, cloudy white against a black night sky. I want Beethoven or an Italian aria playing while I sink beneath the placid waters, only my nose and my hand clutching a glass of wine rising above the water line. I want to wrap myself in a towel the size of a sheet, with pile so soft and velvety that I think I’m wrapped in the arms of a bear. I want to shop at Patagonia, and wear dresses of organic cotton and bamboo in the evening, and not have callouses at the end of the day. I want to rub the feet of a friend who is sore and have the favor returned on my own shoulders. And eventually I want the comforts of home. A dark room, silky chocolate for dessert, a fan blowing a cool breeze, and my own plump, downy pillows reminding me of how good it is to have a place to lay my head. I want to fall asleep praising God quietly in my heart, saying “Fear the Lord, you his saints, for those who fear him lack nothing. The lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.” (Psalm 34:10). And in the morning, I want to get up and do it all over again.