My best friend and I are back in Miami for our second year of attending Unrivaled, the women’s professional basketball 3 on 3 league.
After a rousing good time on Friday night watching two games, we got up on Saturday for a trip to Key West.
We were out the door just after 9, and our routing said we’d be there in less than four hours.
But it was us, traveling companions for over thirty years, and we’ve learned that almost everything takes us twice as long.
Because first there was a stop for coffee and breakfast.
And then there was lots of traffic.
And then a second stop for some more refreshment at a place where no one spoke English. Always good to be reminded of what it feels like not to be part of a dominant culture.
And then lots and lots more traffic.
And then a stop for a late lunch.
And then another major traffic jam.
And by then it was nearly six in the evening.
It had been a wilderness kind of day sitting in the car. In so much traffic. And it was hot. We were honestly tired and cranky. Even though it wasn’t actually that much of a wilderness day because we were in an air conditioned car, and we had been pokey because of stops for provisions.
After a short drive through Key West (yay! we made it in only eight hours), by *happenstance* we made it to the southern most point of the United States. Just in time for the Vesper Light. Without the wilderness-ish drive, we would have missed this moment.
After immersing ourselves in the prayer-filled sunset, we drove to our motel for the night on another of the Keys. We were exhausted.
We decided to leave early the next day to avoid some of the traffic caused by special events.
We’d arrived after dark, and so we had no real sense of exactly where we were. *Something* had me open the curtains as we packed up to go.
It was like a scene from one of my favorite movies, The Enchanted April. After a difficult rainy and dark journey to a villa in Italy, one of the travelers wakes up and opens the window and is met with the most extraordinary view of a sun- filled luscious garden. Never could she have imagined.
I opened the curtains, the first Sunday in Lent, and there was a wildlife preserve outside my door. Bathed in sunrise.
We were only in this very 60’s Floridian hotel because a priest friend of my best friend had suggested it. It was the most economical place we had been able to find.
We were only up before sunrise because of the wilderness drive the day before that we wanted to avoid in our return. It was a “but wait—there’s more moment” of a God who always makes beauty in a wilderness, that surprises us, and for which we cannot plan.
It was a perfect place to start for a Holy Lent.
House of Grace 