Travel, Sketching, and an Extraordinary Life

“The only real voyage of discovery . . . consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”

—Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

I took a sip of the iced mocha I ordered from the beachside cafe. With its grass-thatched roof and rustic-chic decor behind me, I gazed out over the Andaman Sea. Turquoise and teal shades layered with frothy waves moved to and fro. Vibrant green and copper islands lay scattered in the background, beckoning me to come and visit them via the weathered wooden longboats dancing along the ocean currents. I, however, was quite content to sit and be still under the rustling calico leaves, which draped over me like a huge umbrella.

With a heavy breath, tears began to release.

Like a dream, I found myself on the white sands of Thailand, rather than tucked away in the Northern Ugandan bush. Years of anxious waiting and wondering began to melt a little and with the wipe of another tear that trickled down, I glanced down at the fabric-covered art book and set of watercolor paints spread out on the weather-worn table. Slowly, in the quietness of the moment, I began to sketch the scene before me.

I haven’t thought of myself as a world traveler in many years. I mean, sure, I may live in Northern Uganda—but that’s home and where we serve. In fact, we haven’t been able to leave the country together as a family since 2019, when we began a lengthy adoption process. Any trip back to North America has been an emergency trip or a quick catch-up—straddling a short time between extended family members in Canada and the USA.

When a friend mentioned in our weekly Bible study group that she was going to a ladies’ retreat in Thailand, something in me came alive. I didn’t wait for an invitation, but signed up still unsure how or if it would all work out. It seemed like some far-off dream—unattainable, given our circumstances. I have felt a little more than stranded at times, stuck waiting for our situation to change and overwhelmed with the inability to have a furlough.

So, as the gentle wind blew and I found myself slowing down enough to sketch this moment in time, I was still enough to see details I might have otherwise missed. A question began forming in my heart as I pondered the group of seashells fixed to water-logged driftwood that was resting on the countless grains of sandy crystals. What am I not taking notice of back home? What do I overlook or take for granted in this long, lingering waiting season? What do I miss simply because I don’t notice God’s goodness displayed around me?

During my walk back down the beach, I balanced on rocks weathered by the same crashing waves of this captivating sea. I was again reminded of how, even in the difficult times, the Lord has been gently weathering away the rough parts in me. Smoothing the jagged parts of uncertainty and washing away tears of grief with each push and pull, there in the slow and steady process of letting my expectations go. The following day, after sharing some of my challenges with a prayer partner at the retreat, she exclaimed, “What an extraordinary life you live!”

Uncertain? Yes.

Stressful at times? Yes.

Adventurous? Yes.

Extraordinary? Really?

I wasn’t quite sure about that one.

But it got me thinking.

With a sketchbook of memories captured not by shutter but by my own hand, these rough sketches turned into painted moments of a treasured time once I returned to my land-locked home. Somewhere, in sketching the quaint buildings, the spring rolls I ate for breakfast, the range of shells I found but couldn’t physically take, a morning coffee and chat on the beach with my friend, and the street food sidecars peppering the temple markets, my heart was encouraged to look for all the little, lovely things hidden in plain sight.

Even though my daily life doesn’t quite feel the same as a retreat under the island sun, there is something extraordinary in a life when you can notice beauty and God’s goodness wherever you are. Upon returning from my travels in Thailand, I was refreshed in so many unexpected ways—from being poured into, prayed over, and slowing down enough to notice new things, regardless of how ordinary they really were.

While I haven’t outlined much of my life in Uganda in pencil lead or watercolors, I guess I have been documenting my life’s journey in words. Though I haven’t traveled far and wide in recent years, moments have been captured alongside my wrestling with the uncertain future ahead. They have been tucked away in the notes section of my phone, on scraps of paper, and filed away in my heart. I have been trying to live with eyes wide open, even when they get foggy with worry at times. 

There is always a moment of discovery or memory waiting to be made where you are and in whatever season you are in. The same God who created the wild grasses and red, staining Ugandan dirt grew the towering palm trees and painted the ocean shades of aquamarine. There may always be a longing in us for the place we would rather be, yet the Cartographer of Life has ordained each and every one of our steps—even those of us who are transplanted firmly and asked to remain for the time being, wherever in the world that may be.

In what ways does traveling to new places bring joy to your life? Do you feel unsettled or stuck where you currently are? What areas of beauty or the Lord’s goodness do you notice around you?