Magical Choices, Part 2

So I owe you an update.  Yea, I know.  That’s a dumb thing to say because there are like, all of three people, maybe, reading this, but it sounds way too weird to say “I owe myself and my need to process and document life for the purpose of the future an update,” sooooo I’m sticking with the I owe YOU an update line.

I owe you (and my need to process and document life for the purpose of the future) an update on Disney World.

We went to Disney World for fall break.  We were planning to go to the lake.  We were planning to have cool temperatures, boat rides, fires, smores, quiet, peace, relaxation, and absolutely nothing on our must-do list, which seems to have grown to epic proportions lately.

Then my in-laws invited us to Disney World.  Invited, as in, we will pay for your family of four to enjoy a weekend at the most expensive magical place on earth.

Would you say no?

Neither did we.    

The kids were beside themselves thrilled. I went kicking and screaming.  Well, actually I was stewing silently about my lost lake trip and keeping my entire body to myself and not touching anything or anyone and using antibacterial wipes if I was forced to touch something and passing out wipes to my kids and my husband and anyone near me who would take one.  But internally, I was kicking and screaming.  And what I was screaming was, DON’T MAKE ME GO!!!!!!

Our flight took off anyway, and God answered my first prayer when our plane landed safely in Orlando with the seat backs and tray tables in their upright and locked positions, and most importantly, the oxygen masks and barf bags untouched.  And although I never expected God to follow us from the airport to Disney World, I’ll be darned if he wasn’t right there with me the entire weekend, answering my prayers one right after the next.

Now I do need to tell you that my prayers were sucky prayers.  I wasn’t praying for big, important, world peace and a family for every orphan kind of things.  I do that, sometimes, but not when my focus is on keeping my anxiety in check and my OCD under wraps in such a way that my husband and children can enjoy themselves without being traumatized by my insanity. Disney World is not the place to plead for an end to war.  I was in a battle of my own, friends, and it was all I could handle at the time.

I should also tell you that I’m aware there are countless people who do not think I’m crazy because of my anxiety and OCD, but because I don’t share their adoration of “the happiest place on earth.”  There are people in this country who are completely in love with all things Disney.  We saw at least half a dozen couples on their honeymoons at the Magic Kingdom.  If my fiancé had even suggested we consider Disney World for our honeymoon, I would have returned the diamond without hesitation and fled, and I mean every word of that y’all.  

Disney is a highly entertaining place.  In my opinion, it’s a great place to take children once every few years.  I think It’s a Small World is an adorable ride and I love Thunder Mountain Railroad.  I could do without the women in shackles on the Pirates of the Caribbean extravaganza (shouldn’t someone be complaining loudly enough about that to get some much needed, politically correct updates?), but I admire the way Disney parks are kept clean and organized, the “cast members” remember to stay in character at all times, and boy do those folks know how to put on a parade.  But I am not one of those moms who shows up at the gates of the Magic Kingdom with Minnie Mouse ears on my head secretly harboring fantasies about becoming a squatter in Cinderella’s castle.  And if any one of my friends ever mentions going to Disney for a girls’ trip, I will never speak to her again. 

Ever.

I go to Disney World because I want to witness my kids enjoy it.  Without them, I’m staying as far away from that place as possible.  So those prayers of mine before we arrived and the entire time we were there?  Well, I’d say totally and completely selfish pretty much sums ‘em up. 

Please, Lord, let the weather be nice.

Please, Lord, let the hotel be clean.

Please, Lord, let the kids get along.

Please, Lord, let my in-laws keep up.

Please, Lord, let the lines be less than thirty minutes.

Please, Lord, let me keep my lunch through the Space Mountain ride.

Please, Lord, PLEASE let me survive two full days of large crowds, public bathrooms, and people walking around chomping on turkey legs the size of my arm. (Could I get an Amen for that one, people?  Seriously, those things have to be a public health hazard.)

The thing is . . . God knows me.  He knows my heart, and he knows that sometimes, it does beat for others.  Sometimes, I put away my egotistical desires and ask the One who makes the impossible possible to do meaningful things in the lives of those who need him.  Sometimes, I forget about my own needs and ask God to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, heal the sick, provide for the poor. 

But sometimes . . . many times . . . maybe even most times, I go to God with nothing but my own mess.  My ugly, selfish, sinful mess. 

And He hears me.

And He loves me anyway.

And He takes my self-seeking prayers, and my filthy heart, and my inability to look past my own circumstances, and He shows me just how much I mean to Him.

The weather was perfect.  The hotel was wonderful.  The kids got along.  The in-laws were amazing.  The lines were well under thirty minutes.  I kept my lunch through Space Mountain (uh, barely, and just for the record, I am officially retired from that ride, along with The Tower of Terror at Hollywood Studios, which I will curse until the day I die).

I’ve often heard it said that God meets you where you are.  I’ve also heard it said that he has no intention of keeping you there, but we’ll save that for another day and another blog.  Here’s what I think . . .

I think God met me at Disney World.  Amid the noise and clutter of a weekend I didn’t expect and wasn’t sure I could embrace, I think God showed up in a thousand different ways to remind me of a thousand different reasons He loves me. 

For the sake of full disclosure, I must tell you that those amazing in-laws I mentioned hired a concierge to help us navigate the logistical maze that is five parks in two days.  I am quite sure Ramon was very expensive.  I am also quite sure Ramon was an angel sent from heaven.  With his MBA from NYU and the five languages he speaks, Ramon left a lucrative career in risk management to start his own concierge company, and he now spends over 325 days a year escorting groups of people around the Disney parks, and any other major Orlando attraction.   

Ramon was not only an angel, he was a genius (and some might say certifiably crazy because of the previously mentioned 325 days a year at an amusement park).  We never looked at a map.  We never looked at a schedule of events.  We never argued over what to do or where to go or when to eat.  We followed Ramon around like ducklings as he calmly and casually escorted us to each ride, show, restaurant and park. He took pictures of the family in all the right places.  He saved us a spot in the shade to watch the parade, complete with a little mat for the kids to sit on.  He found, cleaned, and set tables for us while we ordered lunch so we could sit right down and enjoy our Disney dining experience.  He secured us a table at Animal Kingdom’s Rainforest Café in under two minutes when there was a sixty-minute wait.  Our group of 4 adults and three children hit five parks in one weekend and never felt stressed, rushed or even tired, and the kids were able to do almost every single thing they wanted to do, and more, in a 48 hour vacation. 

I don’t know when we’ll go back to Disney World.  This trip might have been our last because, ya know, Ramon.  Without him, we just couldn’t hack it, and based on the treatment we received, Ramon is not in our budget. (If you’d like to find out if he’s in yours, I will gladly share his contact information as I highly recommend him to everyone on the planet).

The thing is, even without Ramon, I know I would have enjoyed our trip to Disney World.  Despite all my resistance, I found much more joy than I imagined I could on our surprise getaway.  The weekend was miraculous, in my opinion, and not because of the beautiful weather and the short lines and the generous in-laws and the personal concierge.  The weekend was miraculous because God is in the business of making miracles, and I asked him to come along.  I invited God to join us, and God never turns down an invitation to be present in our lives, no matter where we’re going.  And because I asked God to come with us, and I knew without a doubt that he would show up, I saw Him everywhere. 

Making the Magical Choice

There is much talk these days about how we choose to spend our time – with whom, doing what, in which location?  Are we filling our days with mundane responsibilities and leaving little time for just ‘being,’ and are our souls suffering for it?  Do we lack the ability to relax, to be quiet and still, to say “no” when bombarded with life’s frequent requests?

Am I overcommitted, overscheduled, over the top crazy as I attempt to manage the dolling out of my time, talents, and treasures?

Yes.

Of course.

Absolutely.

No doubt about it.

I need to add the word “no” to my vocabulary more often, like most of the moms I know.  I need more quiet, more stillness, more relaxation in my life, like most of the people I know.  I need to realize when I’m exhausted from the constant striving to get it all done, the pushing to fit it all in, the rushing around at a frantic pace because somehow, that’s become my most consistent mode of existence.

My children have a day off school next week for fall break.  We were planning to spend the long weekend at the lake.  Just the four of us, in one of my favorite places on earth, in my favorite season of the year.  Boat rides wrapped in blankets, smores by the firepit, a completely empty calendar, inbox, to-do list.  Three full days of the quiet, stillness, and relaxation my soul has been craving.  In short, my idea of pure bliss.

And then, we got a call from some very spontaneous, very generous grandparents.  They had other ideas about our fall break, and those ideas didn’t involve quiet.  They didn’t involve stillness or relaxation or anything at all my soul has been craving.  In fact, they involved just the things my soul dreads.  Airplanes, hotel rooms, lines, public bathrooms.  And a very famous mouse by the name of Mickey.

The first thing that came to my mind was one simple word . . . no. 

I wanted smores, not Space Mountain, I thought, as all sense of gratitude eluded me.

Sometimes, you need to say “no.” 

But sometimes, an unexpected offer comes along.  It might be an invitation from a friend, or a request from a teacher, or a gentle nudge from a pastor encouraging you to try something new.  It might even be a revelation from God – one you know is going to bring choices and challenges you aren’t sure you can handle, and you’re confused and scared and angry and you wish He wasn’t making the path so clear.

Sometimes, the unexpected offer comes from people you love.  It’s no revelation, just a simple request, and it means a change of plans.  It means you must wait a little while longer for what your soul craves, because you know that in the waiting, there will be great joy.  There will also be roller coasters, increased anxiety, very little sleep, and a whole lot of germs.  But more importantly, there will be the anticipation of a secret to share, the moment the surprise is revealed, the enormous grins on their faces, and the certainty that comes from knowing . . .

Sometimes, you gotta say YES!!!

Disney World, here we come!