Our Other Family

We call it "reentry," that period of time where you stumble back into reality after being on vacation for a few days. 

For what feels like weeks prior to leaving, we make preparations to leave - we do wardrobe checks and shop around to fill in missing pieces. We print itineraries, gather necessary identification, make arrangements for the kids. We do loads and loads of laundry so there's less mess to come home to, we fold, we pack, we empty trash, we clean counters, we wipe floors, we eat through the food in the fridge, we give someone a spare key. 

And then five minutes later, we're back, with dirty clothes and jet lag, or sea legs, or vacation colds, and an empty fridge and we sit for a minute surveying the mess we've been able to make in under an hour at home and we wonder...what just happened?

We drown for a bit in the depths of real life - of appointments and homework and driving and cleaning and unpacking, but usually we surface again before long with stories of places visited, of people we've seen, of memories we've made. 

But this last trip. This one is different, because it doesn't just change our scenery for a few days. It changes us.

You'd think that was a lead in to this next part where I tell you about how we've been digging wells in Africa or something equally noble. 

(We were on a music cruise.)

It was our second Rock Boat, and we were a little concerned that our second experience on the boat wasn't going to be as powerful as the first, but not concerned enough to ignore the compelling force inside telling us to get on the boat anyway. Truth is, it probably wasn't as powerful as the first year. It wasn't new or enlightening in the way it was last year. We weren't as overwhelmed by the existence of so much great music that we had never heard, or as giddy when we were up close and personal with our favorite artists. We weren't surprised when strangers treated us like family. 

This year, it felt like home. This year we were with old friends, welcoming new Rock Boaters to the family. 

And it's such an incredible family. Our real life friends are tired of hearing us talk about this, but it's the truth. From the minute you get in line at the port (this year it actually began in the parking garage), you are accepted as a part of this big, crazy family, connected by one powerful love (of music). Every prejudice, every ego, every attitude is checked at the gangway, everyone is shown grace. Everyone is welcomed. It's a pervasive spirit of inclusiveness that influences everyone - from artists to cruisers to ship staff - so powerful that being back in the real world you want to high five everyone and hug strangers. (generally frowned upon) You want to send thank you gifts to the people you already paid to make it happen.

So reentry from The Rock Boat is hard, because we've had a taste of heaven - of people loving people and coming together for a common purpose - to enjoy life and celebrate the gifts we've been given. If only there was a body on land that could get this right, for more than four days.  

Lord, teach us always to live as Rock Boaters. Joy-filled, loving, grateful and living loud.  



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