By the sea in Italy: the beauty of the journey

Monterossa - by the sea in Italy.

Monterossa, furthest north seaside village of the Cinque Terre, is a large resort town with a sprawling beach and a once legendary reputation for drawing movie stars.

For us, Monterossa was a beauty that was best enjoyed in the journey.

After visiting all four of the other seaside villages, what wonders would Monterossa reward us with that Sunday morning? From afar, it was idyllic. Glamorous. Beautiful and grand. Yet, uniquely Cinque Terre. And the two hour hike there was unforgettable!

Our hike wandered through sun-soaked vineyards, providing breath-taking vistas and treacherous climbs.

Along the pathway, we edged the Mediterranean from dangling precipices and plunged deep into the hillside olive groves.

The hike had everything you would want. Climbs, plunges, views, sun, shade, variety, challenges, rewards. It was a journey that delighted one minute and threatened in the next.

At times, the pathway narrowed to a mere 10 inches. Dangerous enough when all the hikers were going in one direction. Fairly impossible when hikers approached from the other direction. Maneuvering some of those crevices became a focal point. A matter of safely surviving the trail.

One high point was crossing paths with two college-age girls, walking arm-in-arm and singing joyfully (in English!)with their praise music: "Your love, O Lord, reaches to the mountains. Your faithfulness stretches to the sky."

Finally, we arrived in Monterossa. We searched for our expected reward, an Italian gelato! But none were to be found.

We settled for a refreshing lemon granita and wandered Monterossa in hopes of discovering its special charm.

Unfortunately, the beaches, though beautiful, were over-crowded and uninviting. The layout of the city was more modern and less charming than the other villages. It felt less friendly, too.

After a very brief visit, we took the train back to Vernazza and reflected on the best part of our day--the hike to Monterossa.

In reflection, it was a good reminder that beauty perceived only from afar can be deceptive. True beauty is found when one gets past the distant image and examines the heart or essence of the person or place.

And sometimes, the journey can be more beautiful than the destination.

Family: the ones that take you in

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."

This line from Robert Frost's poem "Death of a Hired Hand" has lingered in the back of my mind like a distant, but constant, shadow of the meaning of home.

Reading it as a young person, I resisted its tone of despair, its sparse, cold realism. Home was so much more than that, I objected. It was love, acceptance, security, comfort, peace of mind.

As I grew older and moved from place to place, I found that home was really a state of mind and being. Often, however, there was a place that felt like home more than some of the others.

For me, it was our home in Graham, North Carolina. My parents never actually ever owned this quaint two story built in th 1940's, but that made no difference to us kids. The house was situated on three acres adjoining another ten, complete with a run-down horse shed, dilapidated garage, neglected pastures, gorgeous flowering cherry trees, camellia bushes, gnarly apple tree, scuppernong grape vines, and several towering pecan trees. The grassy backyard stretched out before us like a long invitation to the blissful outdoors.

Two hemlocks stood like ghostly giants in the front, shielding our sanctuary from the busy street below. Kmart and the interstate were less than a mile away, but when we pulled up into our driveaway, the rest of the world disappeared.

It was the perfect grandmother's house to go and visit, but we got to live there for three years. We plucked blackberries, battled foxes, coons, and wild-eyed barn cats. Our family planted a large vegetable garden in one of the small tree-lined pastures and enjoyed a marvelous harvest.

Inside, the plaster walls and hardwood floors took us back in time. A clawfoot iron bathtub in my upstairs alcove bathroom became a private retreat. My brothers set up a train table in the loft. My little sister had a walk-in closet that became the shelter for nesting birds. In my brothers' room, we peeled back layers of old wallpaper that dated back to the house's World War II era origins.

We loved that house. It was a place where we built so many special memories. For a time, we kids enjoyed a respite from the rest of the world. And we knew, that when we left to go to school or work or church, when we "had" to return, they "had" to take us in. Not because duty obligated them. No, love obliged them to. And the result was all that home really means: peace, security, comfort, acceptance, and unconditional love.

Taking the Lead- part II: "Jazzy's story"

This is Jazzy--the "baby"of the family, even though she is three years old and has mothered a litter of puppies.

By AKC standards, she is a long-haired, red brindle miniature dachshund named "Duncan's All That Jazz." The daughter of Baron and Brandy (and my personal shadow), she completes our doggy family.

We really did not intend to have a third dog-child. But she was the last of Brandy's first litter, one of only two long-haired surprises among the original six. Compared to the others, she was adorable to look at, but rather aloof. The last to come to me for affection. Always a bit stubborn and independent.

Until the night she was left to spend the night all alone in the basement. When she cried, I caved, rescuing her by bringing her into our bed. She curled up into Geoff's neck and that was it--she was ours.

However, she was no overnight sensation. It took a while before she would come to me when I called her. Or for her to lie on her back and let me check her belly for rashes, fleas, abrasions, or even give her a belly rub.

I continued to work with her, rewarding her for good behavior and earning her trust. Baron helped as well, for she was as jealous of him as she was fond of him. When I sat on the floor or even looked Baron's way, his tail would begin to wag as he jogged over to me expecting to be scratched under the neck, petted and praised.

At first, jealousy prevailed. She would ignore me and try to "bite" at Baron's leg. Later though, Jazzy followed his lead, and she began to welcome attention and affection. Now, every morning, she welcomes me by voluntarily rolling onto her back and wagging her tail!

By nature, Jazzy does not follow well. She prefers to take the lead, stay in control, deal with life on her own terms. It's a lonely life, though. And dachshunds are very social/relational dogs.

So, she is our conflicted dog. She enjoys "baby" status--milking attention and yearning (whining) for more. Yet, she has an Alpha dog instinct-- often vieing for lead dog status.

In my relationship with God, I am most like Jazzy: independent and self-sufficient, wanting to take the lead rather than following it.

And, I can be a very conflicted Christ-follower. Sometimes, I just want to sit in the Father's lap and enjoy my privileged status as child. Other times, I want to grab the reins (or leash) and make things happen!

When all He really wants me to do is to follow His lead. Sit and rest when He stops. Charge ahead when He runs. Lead others by my example.

But, like Jazzy, I am learning. :)