Vacation- The “Good Life”?
Dear Friends,
I’m at a hotel in Las Vegas right now. My kids are playing in the pool with other squealing children everywhere. It’s hot outside but the clouds provide enough shade to trick my mind into thinking it’s cooler than it is. There’s thumping pop music streaming through speakers hidden in rocks. I didn’t realize this hotel was a timeshare until we checked in. We found it on some hotel booking site but when the incentives poured over us to attend a 90 minute presentation, we said no four times.
But I’m a sucker for free stuff.
Early this morning, I went to a room with a dozen other couples who are, apparently, also suckers for free stuff. A sales-person greeted us with the energy of a toddler on French Roast. As I sat there listening to his pitch to a room full of middle-aged folk, I began tearing up. The presentation was good—really good. It pulled on all the right heartstrings reminding every parent and grandparent of how much life/fun/excitement they have missed out on.
Regrets. Sorrow. Disappointments in putting more focus towards
work instead of joy
career instead of family
production instead of rest
job instead of vacation
I wasn’t tearing up because I’ve been missing out on vacation-life. I was tearing up because this man was selling vacation AS life. Like life isn’t truly life unless you are on vacation.
I’m all for disruptions to my everyday life. I’m all for unplugging, getting out of town, finding places of adventure, and finally reading a good novel. I’m all for good food and good play and good rest. But, friends, these moments are not when life finally begins. If vacation is the “good life,” what does that make the rest of a person’s life?
I’ve known the temptation of comparison. I’ve felt the thief of joy and experienced evaluating my own life to another’s. I’ve lived a discontented existence where the “good life” must belong elsewhere. I’ve embraced those lies before and they are fully corrosive and absolutely depleting.
The shame in that room was palpable and felt heavy, like a burden no one should bear. With the weight of the world already on their shoulders, the sales-person hoisted insecurities wrapped in Timeshare bliss on top of them. I wanted to shout out a different truth. I wanted to take the microphone and share how this purchase wouldn’t fill the void in their hearts or make their family finally get along. This was not the quick fix towards the good life.
I wanted to share that because of Jesus, I began to experience the good life everyday. I wanted them to know that when my life was crumbling around me and when I feel exhausted and anxious and overwhelmed by my circumstances that I cannot change, I still experience the good life because of Jesus Christ and his love for me. I wanted them to know that it’s Jesus who said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy burdened. Learn from me and find rest for your souls.” It’s Jesus who said that in him is life to the fullest. It’s Jesus who redirects my focus away from daily production and back towards daily rest and joy. It’s Jesus who gently invites me to breathe and savor every moment immediately, not just when I leave town. I wanted them to know there’s a deeper truth to the good life.
I love vacation and look forward to those planned-holy-disruptions, but life is so full of daily sacred moments reminding me that the good life has already arrived.
Timeshare or not, the good life is more than two weeks out of the year, and I just wanted you to know that.
With (love),
Bethany