This past summer we took a few adventures in our teardrop trailer. Her name is "Ventana Grande". How she came to be and how we named her is a story for another time, but one such galavant is how I ended up with a glimpse at Redemption again. I did not consider that our "big window" would take me on a trip into the past. But that's just what happened.
We headed to a rally of Vistabules. That's the teardrop brand. It's not a cult exactly. Everybody loves their "vistys". There are meet and greets and seminars and shared meals. It's all about getting the most out of your investment. Seeing other people's mods and swapping food prep and menu tips, learning about travel traps to avoid, discovering useful gadgets and hearing how some folks travel with pets. Sharing ideas and affection for the unique teardrop experience. We'd looked forward to this rally for more than a year.
I'd been to Itasca State Park before and as we parked at the headwaters of the Mississippi between rally workshops, I began to wonder where it went. Ha! Not the Mississippi! The Brower Inn. It was gone. After the headwaters visit, we drove around a bit and everything seemed to be where it should be according to my memories, everything except the Brower Inn. That evening, a park worker gave a talk on the history of the park and I took the opportunity to ask her where the Brower Inn was. I was certain my memory was failing me.
"You are standing right where it was." she said.
I was stunned. We were standing in an amphitheater along Lake Itasca. The setting was beautiful. It was early fall and the leafy trees were beginning to turn. The lake was surrounded by still, green reeds and the air was scented pine.
My mind took me back...almost 30 years.
I remember riding in a car down the winding road of Itasca State Park with my father. As we headed toward the Brower Inn, I was begging my dad to turn the car around and drive far away. Of course, the begging was all in my head. I didn't have the courage or self-confidence to tell him my myriad misgivings in real life. We arrived at our destination and the inertia of the day pulled me along.
Just along the lake, behind the The Brower Inn was where I'd married my first husband.
It was a beautiful ceremony in an enchanting setting. We celebrated for an entire weekend with friends and family. Two wonderful meals, cake and a square dance reception made it a memorable event for all.
You've heard the expression, "After a wedding comes a marriage"? Boy does it.
We spent 10 years together and some of it was really great. We had two children, shared some dreams and learned so much from each other, but there was a very good reason I was more than just a little anxious on the way to that ceremony. Plenty of our marriage was difficult and when it ended with his death, I had very little time to process the resulting emotional chaos.
Standing by Lake Itasca all of these years later, grief and beauty collided.
I wandered about the area and considered all that my life held since then. I felt grief afresh for a young woman that didn't understand how to be still, embrace her worth or use her voice. The grief continued to wave over me as I thought about the man I had married. His pain and the toll that the lies of the enemy took on his perspective of life and of family. Grief for the ways our youth and immaturity had inflicted a decade of heartache on each other and paved the way for confusion and trauma when he left us.
Years before I had wondered if I'd have a reason to visit Itasca State Park again and how it would be. I took my girls once while passing by on the way to my parent's home. They walked through the headwaters as I considered whether I should tell them about the way this place was marked for me. We didn't have much time and I couldn't find the Brower Inn then either. I guess it wasn't yet time to crack the lid on that box of memories.
The Spirit seems to work in grief and beauty at appointed times.
I've learned to look for redemption in the story of living. As I continued to stroll the lakeside, the balm of beauty was once again a backdrop of redemption. It was fitting that the Inn had been torn down and the amphitheater had taken it's place. Beautiful things rise from the ashes in a redeemed life. The treasure of that process was being poured out on me once again.
God had mercy in the memories. It wasn't easy. It swelled my heart in that painful way that radiates accross your chest and presses for somewhere else to go and just as the pain reached my mouth and I observed the position of my lips I found a smile resting there. Deep gratefulness overwhelmed me. Who I am today began to be formed in that place beside the lake. The relationship that left deep wounds, moved me toward becoming myself and taught me the strength it takes to heal. It drove me to my knees and abiding abundance with the lover of my soul.
I found myself holding both grief and beauty for a few moments. It happens that way sometimes and I've learned it will happen still. After a few moments, I'm free to choose. I choose beauty.
And once again Redemption writes another page of my story.