Perspective: It is everything, when you want to value the journey -- in an RV, or just plain Life

When embarking on a veritable sea change in life, and doing that late in life, perspective is everything. It can feel like those memorable moments, whether experienced in a second, minutes, or hours, are what make it so.

A beautiful sunrise turning skies red, orange, and gold; the lapping of the waves on the Colorado River’s shores amid the Mohave Desert; that feeling of being at peace and rested, stress and sickness things of the past.

Well, those moments can be decorative snapshot of eternity -- if you work to make them such, and accept them as such.

But there are other "moments."  There are those breakdowns of motorhome equipment, that winter chest cold that takes a month to finally clear your lungs, a twisted knee especially determined to make what formerly was a day or two recovery into an unwelcome handicap of weeks from a 72-year-old body.

Perspective can get lost in those moments. The key is knowing it will always be there, if sought, and recognized, and embraced.

Adventure can be bliss, and also have its detours of maddening Homeric Odyssey. That flight the soul and senses takes through crisp, early-morning desert canyons? The exhilaration may disintegrate when windstorms and cloud bursts rock the RV and collapse tents.

Perspective must evolve when you are experimenting with long-term RV life that may morph into full-time living in that Abode on the Road.

In the past five months, for us, such perspective – and faith in our Maker, and each other – were initially under-appreciated treasures for Barbara and me, but we have found in Arizona, camped between Parker and Lake Havasu.

The “slide out” that becomes our bedroom failed the first week, and fixing it took a bite out of our carefully, and wisely set aside emergency fund. Another week, and the tow bar system used to pull a small car behind us shorted out, resulting in a fire that baked the Ford Fiesta’s transmission and engine. The car was hauled off as scrap by a junkyard truck.

A rugged start, ambushed twice by metaphorical brigands on the trail, as it were. The emergency fund, though depleted, at least had served its purpose.

This week, perspective was tested again. Our electric awning decided not to open for the shade needed as Arizona's "winter" turned to temperatures in the 90s. That gets fixed in a few days, and if we were wondering, now we know where at least some of that coming tax refund will be going.

So, when the blackwater tank connection came loose this morning it seemed a minor setback. Heck, poo perspective, perhaps . . . but an hour's worth of labor, bleach, shoveling, and gravel Clorox, cleaned it up. 

Long showers did the same for us.

All that recounted, you’d think the “big picture” of fullt-time camping, or at least longer-term RV trips in our (not so) golden years would be a wee bit spattered as well? Oddly enough, not the case. 

You should not measure your dreams merely by monetary losses or derailed expectations. Or ... crap.

It has been a season of anxiety, frustration, and doubts at times. It also, upon quiet reflection, embraces our appreciation for the beauty around us, in us, above us and in others.

There is that inexplicable yet real peace of faith realized, too, on a personal pilgrimage Barbara and I  share.

That journey, for this couple of 52 years, is not over. It’s just begun.