journeys

Some of my favorite childhood memories involve our annual summer trek from our home in the Willamette Valley of Oregon to my grandparents' cattle ranch in Rich County, Utah. In those days the speed limit was 55mph and the roads were not what they are today and the trip took a good 15-16 hours. Whether in our old Chevy Impala station wagon or, later, a great big blue Ford Econoline van (there was no mini in that van), the trip would consist of six sprawling--sometimes singing, sometimes fighting, sometimes sleeping--kids of various ages, few stops, carrot sticks and homemade sandwiches. One of the best parts of the drive was the halfway point, where we would stop for the night at my mom's sister's family farm in Weiser, Idaho. Weiser visits bring to mind sleeping bags strewn family style on the family room floor, homemade cinnamon bread, full on farm-style breakfasts, floating down the lazy Weiser River, chasing cats and chickens, picking raspberries, lots of hard work, love and hugs.

Today I drove my mom up from the Boise area where we are staying to say goodbye to her sister, who is learning not one but two new languages and leaving in a few weeks to serve among expat domestic workers in Hong Kong. She made us some delicious pumpkin muffins. We sat on her floor and played marble games, drove up to the fields to watch the harvest, and went into town for sandwiches, chocolates and a waffle cone.

It's a long, long way from a sugar beet farm in Weiser, Idaho, to the city of Hong Kong. I acknowledge and appreciate both the courage and the sacrifice required to embark upon such a journey.