What I learned on the way to Mount St. Helens
On our way to Mount St. Helens, there was fog – lots of it. We’d drive through some, and it would clear. Then there would be more fog along the road. We knew the view of the mountain was clear because the first stop on our trip was the visitor center at the beginning of the road. They had a live video camera view of the volcano. (We probably would have driven up anyway, but it was nice to be assured that the view was clear.)
The fog kept floating in and out. I kept driving. I had a destination. We would see Mount St. Helens. For the first third of the drive up, I didn’t even pay attention to how my wife was reacting to the fog. She was amazed. It was like magic for her. But I kept driving – keeping my eye on the prize, at least when it was visible.
Then she rolled down the window and stretched her hand out to touch the fog.
“Do you want me to pull over so you can get into the fog?”
“YES!”
So we pulled over and every moment was magical as the fog rolled over and around us, and my wife loved every minute of it. When we got back in the car, we drove to Mount St. Helens. In our brief pause from heading toward the destination, the volcano hadn’t moved. It hadn’t erupted again. It remained there for us to see and enjoy. Sometimes, I have to be reminded that it isn’t the destination; it’s the journey.
The fog kept floating in and out. I kept driving. I had a destination. We would see Mount St. Helens. For the first third of the drive up, I didn’t even pay attention to how my wife was reacting to the fog. She was amazed. It was like magic for her. But I kept driving – keeping my eye on the prize, at least when it was visible.
Then she rolled down the window and stretched her hand out to touch the fog.
“Do you want me to pull over so you can get into the fog?”
“YES!”
So we pulled over and every moment was magical as the fog rolled over and around us, and my wife loved every minute of it. When we got back in the car, we drove to Mount St. Helens. In our brief pause from heading toward the destination, the volcano hadn’t moved. It hadn’t erupted again. It remained there for us to see and enjoy. Sometimes, I have to be reminded that it isn’t the destination; it’s the journey.