For as long as I can remember I have longed to travel to Vermont to see the leaves dance with joyful color just before they glide to the earth. Early in our marriage, Jana and I shared that desire, and, after twenty-five years of marriage, and the disposing of every excuse, we made our plans and made our way to the land of rural majesty.
This was, in many ways, the least planned vacation we have ever taken – and it was our first without children as our traveling companions. The week was picked rather randomly because we had limited options due to schedules. Our location was determined mostly by proximity to the airport, economic deals and availability of accommodations. Our daily itinerary was left completely open, though I had done some research and marked a few things that I considered interesting possibilities.
We relaxed into our trip and took what came (a good thing considering the mess that our flights to and fro proved to be). And in this innocent trust we experienced God’s treasures.
The lodging that we had “chosen” was at the epicenter of several potentially delightful experiences, and we drank them in. During our first day in Stowe, Vermont, we stopped by a small
grocery store to grab a few supplies and asked some of the locals for one or two sights or activities that we should not miss. Our query tripped an avalanche of marvelous ideas, most of which required little or no financial investment. One woman even chased us down in the parking lot when she heard about our inquiry and spent a half-hour firing suggestions, even giving us her well-marked map of New Hampshire to help with, what would prove to be, our next-day trip. The Mount Washington Hotel at the base of Mount Washington was stunning.
One evening as I leisurely thumbed through a local magazine I came across a series of brief articles on 
local attractions – attractions that no one had mentioned thus far. And so, our next morning’s hike to “The Pinnacle” (a peak of 2600 feet providing a 360 degree view of Stowe and the surrounding areas), while a challenging climb for two unprepared walkers, was a sacred moment. We stood atop the world alone together on a sunny, frosty morning, looking upon the brightly dappled mountains surrounding us, and experiencing the awe of God’s creative hand.
Later that day, also urged on by the magazine article, we drove a few miles north of town to make the short and far less grueling hike to see Moss Glen Falls
– a 120+ foot fan-shaped cascade slicing through a shady hillside. It is jaw-droppingly beautiful, making the observer completely forget the muddy trek it takes to get there.
We saw covered bridges, gaps, notches, gorges, peaks and so much more in our daily excursions, all serendipitous gifts because we had no agenda except to simply “be” in this place, open to the suggestions of mouth, print, weather, heart and energy.
We experienced the quaint friendliness of small towns and local “mom and pop” stores. Twice we visited grocery/deli shoppes in New Hampshire and Vermont, feasting on sandwiches made simply, but with such pure product and experience, that we consider them a step above the more expensive formal dining ventures that our evenings held.
On our final day, traveling to Burlington to catch our late afternoon flight (which turned out to be an early evening flight. . . that is another story), we assumed the best was done. And then on a pristine 
day of sun and warmth, we cruised Burlington and came upon the view from Battery Park overlooking Shelburne Bay (part of Lake Champlain) and the distant mountains. Once again the jaws dropped and I reached for the camera. A Burlington-er/ite/ian (?) even went out of his way, as we were snapping shots, to mention that that day was the most beautiful day he can remember.
Truly refreshing in almost every way. That is how I would describe this vacation. And all because we chose to not plan it into oblivion. We decided where we would sleep at night, and when we would arrive and leave. Beyond that, the details were left to God and the wisdom He would provide. I think there might be a life lesson in that somewhere.
Planning is necessary to keep me from stumbling into foolishness, but the wisdom of Jesus to “not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself” is suddenly a little more real and proven. Yes, I realize that our Lord was speaking about more essential things in life than vacation itineraries (specifically, food and clothing), but an obsession with control is often the pathway to snowballing angst. Failing to relax into the guidance of God’s agenda not only knots my colon, but it deprives me of the gift of serendipity. Apparently God knows better the discoveries which need to pop up on the horizon of my life than I do. I drove the car, but He made the road. And the view was exquisite.
In July I attended a preaching conference in a very comfortable venue with balcony seating that wrapped around the floor seats as far as the front of the stage. It was like box seating, being above and alongside the audience.
