Chasing the Sun
written by : Jill Domangue
This message has been sitting in my heart and circling my mind for a few months now (*deep sigh*) so I’m taking advantage of a cool, quiet Sunday morning, sitting on the patio and stealing an hour for myself. As I opened my computer and started typing, my playlist brought up the MercyMe song “Beautiful” that started my own personal blog (<<red balloons>>) so I’m taking that as a serious red balloon on this beautiful morning.
2023 has flown by. Life is happening. We are running to all the places doing all the things all the time. And when we are not, we are crashing hard, binge-watching somewhat inappropriate shows and appreciating the fact that we live in the age of Grubhub and frozen pizza (when I say “we” in this sentence, I totally mean me, myself and I).
My summer plans this year revolved around one thing and one thing only- I was lucky enough to actually score a ticket to attend the Taylor Swift Eras Tour with my sister and niece in Minnesota. I’ve never considered myself a “Swiftie” before now, but I have been converted. From the moment I found out we had tickets, my entire summer schedule had to accommodate the concert date and the travel plans around it.
As I struggled through that anger/depression phase of grief this past spring, one night of girl time and amazing music was the reward to look forward to. Say what you want to about Taylor Swift, but I think that anyone who can make sparkles, glitter and friendship bracelets seem completely normal to wear in public when you are over 40 is amazing. As the “fancy” friend who wears as much sparkle and glitter as possible, I loved to see others embracing the style wholeheartedly. I have never been to a concert where it was harder to walk in a straight line because of so many women stopping to compliment others and exchange friendship bracelets. Plus- over three straight hours of music that was the soundtrack to my life- Taylor never skipped a beat and it was truly magical. Even the post-concert mile-long walk through the skyway system in Minneapolis to find our hotel at 1 a.m. was a special experience. It was a once-in-a-lifetime night to remember with overwhelmingly good memories.
We were able to spend serious downtime after the concert at a cabin in northern Minnesota. We are incredibly blessed to have such a place to escape to every year. While it was nice to spend time with family and we made a lot of really great memories, the time also really clarified a few issues that I still need to work on. Anxiety is real, y’all, and it’s a daily battle.
Due to that anxiety, at the end of our peaceful time at the cabin, we loaded up into the car to head out on the 17-hour drive home. The first day, we went a total of three hours to a Great Wolf Lodge where the kids begged to spend the night. We were able to connect with some cousins we haven’t seen in awhile and it was a lovely night.
Before we hit the road for our first long day of driving the next morning, I had checked the weather and knew that storms were supposed to roll through later in the morning. With the promise (aka, bribe) of Dunkin’ Donuts, the kids were out of bed and in the car early.
As we drove south, the sky was split into two distinctively different canvases.
On my left, the rays from the sun were shining down on the horizon like a beacon. The hills were a rich, dark green, an occasional farmhouse and silo popped up, and there was a clear path forward on dry, black pavement leading toward home. This was clearly the easiest route, with the warmth of the sun shining through the car windows, and an ability to set the cruise control and follow the fastest path to get back to the comfort of home.
But on the right, the sky was black. The horizon was fuzzy, difficult to see through the haze that was rain. There were occasional flashes of bright lightning. This was the storm that was promised to arrive later that morning. This was going to mean a slower pace, slippery roads with the possibility of spin-outs or hydroplaning and losing control. This was going to require a different level of concentration while driving.
And absolutely not one little part of me wanted to deal with that storm. I was set on chasing the sun for as long as we possibly could.
As we wound our way through the state of Iowa, I was watching our route on the GPS, on high alert for any sign that the road was going to curve to the right. The dark clouds continued to take over more and more of that skyline, but somehow our path stayed right on the edge of the light. We did make a quick bathroom stop, but I was able to convince the kids to eat the snacks we had in our cooler instead of spending time picking up lunch so we could get back on the road and hopefully get south of the storm before the skies opened up. We ended up getting a few sprinkles and had maybe five minutes of rain before the dark clouds started to recede and remain in the rearview mirror only. The rest of the day went smoothly.
The next day, we again woke up early and hit the road so we could be home by lunchtime. As we drove south through Tennessee and into Alabama, testing out a new route to get home, the blue sky started to once again be taken over by heavy, dark clouds on the horizon. There was a part of me that said a quick prayer that consisted of one word: “Seriously?”.
Once again, our route skirted the very edge of the storm. We ended up in the mountains of Alabama (can I take a quick timeout here to appreciate this statement- apparently I was 43 years old before I knew that there were mountains in Alabama. They were beautiful but very unexpected- apparently it’s been too long since I took a geography class).
As we wound our way down the mountain, the heavens opened up and the heavy rain hit. At this point, my tears fell.
In that moment, I felt like the entire trip home had been representative of my journey with grief. Those dark, heavy storm clouds are always there in the sky, looming large and ready to roll in and create situations that I am unable to control, causing me to need to slow down. What I wanted more than anything right then was to follow a dry, clear path, covered in the warm sunshine, appreciating the lovely green fields surrounding me, and traveling at my own speed to the comfort of home. Because I’m just exhausted from the level of concentration that life takes when traveling through the heavy rains.
In those moments, the children were incredibly sweet in pulling up radar and showing me that we really were on the edge of the storm and would soon be out of it once again. They became expert meteorologists for the rest of the drive.
Within minutes, we were back on dry roads, the rearview mirror once again black from the storm clouds behind us. They chased us the rest of the drive home and we had just enough time to unload the car before the steady rain began.
And while I am thankful that we were able to chase the sun for most of that drive home, I also think there are times where it is okay to slow down and sit in the storm that is grief. Sometimes the strongest of storms bring about the loveliest of rainbows, which would not be possible if the sky was filled with nothing but sunshine.
But maybe not on those days where I’m driving across the country. “Please. Amen.”
Love, Jill