But Do You Have the Key?
We were 60 hours into our marriage when my new bride asked a simple question. “Did you bring the key?”
You would think that the answer was “Yes” and then she would go back to looking at me longingly. But the answer was “No” followed by “they told me where they hid the key in the receiving line” which sounded a little reassuring. “Did you write it down?” was the next logical question to which I replied “No.”. She did not look at me longingly! There were a few minutes of silence as we drove through Utah, at night, towards a tiny town called Driggs, Idaho for our first night on our honeymoon travels. So far we were living the “adventurous” side of marriage!
I had a verbal commitment from a family friend that we could use what sounded like an amazing cabin in the Tetons. Along with the verbal commitment came verbal directions to this magical log cabin that resided a mere 2500 miles from home. I remember hearing the directions like I was being told how to get to the local grocery store down the street in my hometown. I just had to apply them to a place, far, far away that I had never been to except in my imagination. But I had confirmation, a promise, and enough directions to give me confidence that we should absolutely take the second biggest commitment in our young marriage…so we boarded a plane and headed west!
To add to the adventure my sweet, new wife had to drive our rental car. I was 24 and at that time technically not old enough to drive a Ford Escort. My bridge was the older woman, she was all of 25 and legal to rent, and drive, the cheapest car we could get our hands on. So poor Jan was at the wheel while I nervously tapped my foot on the floorboards for a few hundred miles. Not having a key to our cabin was nothing compared to not being able to drive in my mind.
We ended up driving two-lanes over mountain passes and through meadows and eventually ended up in valley where we spotted the first landmark to turn towards our cabin. I was instructed to turn right at the suburban propane building. There was no road name given because duh, theres a suburban propane building there! As luck would have it there actually was a suburban propane building and Jan nervously took the right turn onto a dirt road. We were immediately met with a “road closed” sign and a school bus sized pile of gravel blocking anyone thinking of honeymooning from proceeding on that road.
A nervous laugh came from one side of the car while I quickly thought of what I could do next to find our cabin. This was before phone GPS; before cell phones even worked in Driggs even, and I had to rely on what I had seen on a map days before. It’s not like a map of Driggs is burned into everyone’s brain but I had an idea of what the town looked like and how to maybe, somehow, get two newlyweds into a random cabin, on a random dirt road, in a rural town in Idaho. We would either find it or get shot, attacked by dogs, or sleep in the car next to the gravel pile. Maybe the suburban propane building was open?
By this time Jan had enough of driving and I illegally slipped behind the wheel and started navigating around in the dark around Driggs. We were married now and she was stuck with me. But we each had a calming effect on each other and between nervous laughter there was trust. I found the creek that was mentioned to me in my verbal directions. I found the picket fence that was falling down next to a shared driveway. We drove past some barking dogs and a house flipped its lights on as we drove slowly by. Best to keep moving! Deep in the woods we thought we saw a cabin and it fit my imaginary description of what our honeymoon cabin would be so we turned in the driveway.
There I was with the woman I just pledge to do life with, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, with or without keys, and I was leading her into the wilds of Idaho to see if this dark cabin just so happened to be the place we would spend two weeks. And the only way we would know if we had the right house is if we found the hidden key, let ourselves in, and looked at the family photos! We stumbled in the dark, found a porch, prayed that no one was inside and started looking for this mystery key.
There was no key on the doorframe.
But there was another beam a few feet from the door and that’s where the key was found. That key opened the door to shelter for the night. The next morning we woke up to find a mountain stream across the driveway, the Tetons standing guard off the porch, and crisp mountain air filling everyone’s lungs. It was a much, much different world than the night before.
I thought of this story the other day when I was longing to know how things would work out ahead of time. Do you ever do that? We are eager to go and while the sense of adventure runs high it would be a little more comforting to have hand written directions to guide us to the promised land that sounds so…promising! Getting an abbreviated, rushed set of directions while being distracted definitely makes you nervous at a later time when you are trying to find your way to the destination!
We can go and accept the risk of adventure or we can stay put and try to map it all out, plan it all out, and write it all out before we take a single step. We can have analysis paralysis! Standing still helps gather information but eventually we need to move to apply all of that information. I can remember hearing the directions to our cabin in our receiving line and thinking it would be nice to know ALL of the steps between here and there and while that sounds responsible I also knew we just wanted to go! The details would have to work themselves out.
I’m all for knowing what I’m getting into. But many times I have to take a little bit of knowledge and run with it rather than a whole lot of knowledge and be stuck with it. If I have a little bit of knowledge I’ll move towards the key and eventually I’ll find it! It’s worth the risk of going, even with incomplete details.
If you are feeling stuck I can relate. It’s tough to move sometimes! Is it because of incomplete details? Do you know where you need to head and you just haven’t left yet? Are you scared you’ll get there and not find the key? I think my wedding story popped up because of its encouragement. Listen intently. Picture the destination in your mind. Then go. Just go. Because the honeymoon waits for nothing!
