When we were first married, Maureen and I would sometimes wish we could “get away from it all.” Sometimes life just seemed too complicated and difficult to work through. We thought we should leave everything and take our family off to a “cave in Australia” and wrap us all up in “pink cotton” for protection.
Why a “cave in Australia”? I’ve never been there. Only books, movies and TV told me about Australia. It was far away. Remote. Untouched. Somehow I could believe that Australia was so different that none of our troubles and fears could follow us there.
Of course, we worked through life just fine while staying in Virginia. But for the past 4 decades, “moving to a cave in Australia and wrapping us up in pink cotton” was the code phrase for getting away from something unpleasant. (There was an old play/movie with a similar idea: “Stop The World. I Want To Get Off.”) Somehow I could believe that the cave in Australia was safe from all the evil or unthinking actions of people and nature.
Today in our newspaper there were stories that would point to consider moving to that cave in Australia. There was a daylight armed robbery of a store just a mile from our house. And earthquakes. And Congress and our Legislature needed to change the rules. And there is corruption. And disease.
But then, there was a story about Australia. Floods. Terrible surges of water that destroyed all in their path. As I prayed for the people whose lives were wrecked or ended by these floods, it came to me that our “cave in Australia” would have been inundated as well.
What a shock. Even our cave in Australia would not protect us. Those Australian people probably wish they lived in Virginia instead.
So, now what. I can’t rely on moving to Australia. Today’s flood story helped me remember that only God is my refuge. I am where I need to be. God created me and is with me no matter what happens. It’s not a matter of where I am but who is with me. I have a wonderful wife and family and friends. They help me remember that I am never as alone as it may seem. I have all I need to “bloom where I am planted”, to use a pop–culture phrase from the 1960’s.
As we approach retirement, we discussed where we should live. Every place had its charms. But each place also had disadvantages. It looked as if the only perfect place would be our cave in Australia. Apparently not. I can focus on flourishing here and trusting that we’ll get through as we always have.
I just hope that tomorrow’s newspaper doesn’t have a story that wrapping in pink cotton is bad for you.
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