A Road Trip in the Rockies

My time in Portland was truly amazing, and I am still so grateful for the nurses I worked with there. They taught me how to listen without judgment, to hear people’s hearts, not just their words, and to be present even when words are insufficient. They held out hope for me personally on some hard days. But I had left the stability of my home hospital to see what else was out there. I couldn’t just stop in Portland after one assignment! And I certainly didn’t have any reason to stay on the West Coast. I took my next travel assignment in Minneapolis. While I had grown up in Minnesota, I had never lived there as an adult, and I was excited about the opportunity to work at a hospital that I had revered throughout my childhood.

I packed up all that I had with me into the trunk of my Honda Accord. I had been warned that crossing the Rocky Mountains could be treacherous. The snow made some sections impassable in the winter. Some of the open roads were going to require a steep descent. I was told to drive slowly or chain my tires if needed - respect it or risk launching into a snowbank in a remote area where no one would find you. And if I made it through that, I should be prepared to drive through large parts of Montana without cell phone reception, just me and the empty fields. I printed the MapQuest directions. It was going to be a 32-hour drive. So, I called my sister for backup.

My sister flew out, and we began our road trip home. The straight stretches of Washington state flew by, and we moved from the lush greens of the coastal side of the state into the long, dry brown grass of the open plains. In the first few hours, we laughed and sang along with the music enthusiastically. But then we did hit the mountains. The roads curved up and over, and then down and up again. At first, I enjoyed the way the car leaned as it cornered against the pull of the steep road. But then we had reached a higher elevation, driving among the low-hanging clouds and fog. It was late, and dark, and the road had emptied of its regular life. It seemed that the only commuters still trekking across these states were us and the Semi-trucks. And we quickly learned that the Semis were unfazed by the fog and had deadlines to meet. Several of them flew up on us just lights suddenly appearing in our rearview mirror, before they swerved into the second lane and flew past us. I felt like a small bug ready to be crushed on their windshields.

It was about the middle of Montana that the cell phone coverage went out. No longer able to use our GPS, we turned to the paper directions. We clocked our mileage on the odometer as we turned onto the next highway, and suddenly, the adventure felt very real. If we got lost, how would we know we were lost? We drove through the quiet of the night, accompanied only by the wild horses that trotted near the road and the white rabbits who leapt in front of the car like large puffs of cotton candy. They made me feel like the Trix rabbit was so much more reasonably sized than I had ever given him credit for. Their ears really flopped over their heads, and they were incredibly fast. We saw more than I could count.

For miles, it felt like all I saw was fog, horses, and jack rabbits. There were no streetlights. There were no gas stations. And now the mileage had ticked by on that little numeric counter under the speedometer. I knew we needed to make our next turn. I was also becoming very aware that missing this turn could mean that we would be driving off into the lands of Wyoming or Montana with no ability to correct ourselves. I only had step-by-step printed directions. I wouldn’t know how to fix it if we did it wrong. I wasn’t even completely sure which state we were in. I glanced at my cell phone; there was still no coverage. My sister slowed the car down, and I watched our odometer tick past the mileage for the turn. I still didn’t see a turn. I started to pray. We crept slowly forward. Still no turn. I wondered if my sister was as nervous as I was, but I was not going to ask. I prayed again. How much further should we drive past the mile marker before we turn around, assuming we missed it? Then suddenly my phone dinged. I grabbed it and plugged my parents’ address in one more time. The GPS immediately said, “Turn right.” And then in the fog, with almost no ability to even see the road, we turned. And as instantaneously as it had turned on, the service turned off. My phone was a useless brick once more.

We reset the odometer. We took turns sleeping and driving to conquer those 1800+ miles in just over 36 hours. We took a quick nap at a hotel while waiting for Mount Rushmore to open. We saw the sunrise, the flags fly, and then jumped right in the car to get to my parents’ Christmas party. In fact, when we pulled into my parents’ house, the guests had already arrived. My sister and I snuck through the basement entrance, dressed in sweaters from my grandmother’s closet, and crept up the stairs to enter unnoticed.

That road trip sparked my curiosity in a new way. Travel nursing had always seemed like an opportunity to find my new home, to explore new hospitals, and to meet new people. That journey made walking by faith more real to me. I was now realizing that the adventures I was heading out on were not just jobs in new locations. But that I was going to see lands I hadn’t dreamed of, and encounter dangers I wasn’t prepared for, and even find the limits of myself. But I also realized that I had a God who would provide just what I needed, just when I needed it. And much like the fog, my eyes would oft fall to the few feet in front of my face, unable to see the future, unable to change the circumstances, unable to find new directions if I were to be lost. But it is at the limits of my ability that I found the limitlessness of His capability.

So Dear friends, if you find yourself embarking on a planned adventure, do not fear the unexpected turns and twists. There is a God who will provide exactly what you need when you need it. It may only be the cell phone coverage for one turn, or the next step in your business, or the next decision for your family. The fog may seem heavy, and it may be frustrating to be given pieces of direction at a time. But do not rush the reveal of God’s good story in you. There is joy in the journey if you will walk it with Him, just one creeping foot at a time. It is His good grace to not tell it all. For if I had known the miles would be so long, the roads so dark, and many fields so empty, I do not know if I would have the faith to start the journey at all, and I would have missed out on all the beautiful things.