I traveled solo for a long time.   Single, with friends and family all over the globe and a love of the road, meant I developed habits to keep me safe, on schedule, traveling light, and unnoticed.

I am the kind of person who is ready to de-plane well before we pull up to the gate.  When we get there, I am standing in the aisle, meticulously organized and ready to walk, waiting behind the person who can’t remember where he put his scarf when he sat down.  I am the kind of person who checks her tickets and writes down emergency numbers.  I try hard to sleep on the transatlantic flights because when I get to London alone and still have a couple of hours to go until I arrive at my friends’ house, I need to be alert and quick and get on the right train without calling attention to myself, the solo American.

When I left to study abroad in France during college, the USA was in the midst of a spat with France over air rights and Libya.  France started requiring visas and word went out that Americans should keep a low profile.  Experienced fellow ex-pats assured me that passing for Canadian would be the way to go if the going got tough.  I took it to heart and tried to blend in.  Or at least not stand out as American right away.

I read Rick Steves and pared down what I considered necessary for a 2 week visit.  Traveling alone means that it all has to fit on my person or in my hands.  God forbid, I ever end up somewhere looking for a trolley that I still can’t push because of the mountain of suitcases I’ve brought.

Backpacking also contributed to my thoughtful, scant packing skills, honed further on my many treks into the Smokies.  If you’re headed out into the woods for a few days, everything you take has to be useful and absolutely necessary, and fit in your pack.

Later, when I started taking trips with friends who, according to me, packed too much, I felt superior.  Streamlined.  In the know.  I was the svelte and efficient traveler who didn’t need help to manage my bags and no one was waiting on me.

I have people waiting on me now – husband and son and a passel of students.  And I do a lot of waiting on them.   I’m working on the superiority thing.

No matter how many advance packing lists we devise or how little room our caravan of cars has, students always show up for mission trips with too much luggage and big, gangly, sloppy sleeping bags spilling out of their ties.  The guitar always ends up on top of everything else in the back of my car, leaving just a sliver of rear view left in my mirror.  We never move through an airport or a restaurant or a town square without being noticed, all 25 or more of us laughing and talking loudly over top of one another, clearly “not from around here.”

When I travel with my family people usually notice as soon as we get out of the car.  My stepson has autism and needs to jump up and down and make a lot of noise.  Absolutely not an incognito experience, making a pit stop or a visit to Starbucks.  Things take longer with him and he is not generally interested in whatever schedule we have in mind.  As my husband says, “He can wait you out.  He has all the time in the world.”

During seasons like Advent and Lent, I tend to lean on journey images…  Making the Advent pilgrimage to Christmas.  Clearing space in our lives and hearts for God to show up along the paths we travel.  Allowing ourselves to be surprised by the turns in the road…  And, though, I can’t claim this was part of my solo traveling ethos, it does seem that the less baggage we lug into the season the more open our hands and hearts are for what God wants to give.

The thing is, God gives us what we need, but rarely expect.  Apparently I needed a noisy, jubilant, jumping son and a crowd of witnesses who are still learning to pack lightly.  I know I needed my traveling partner husband (who’s not half bad at packing, by the way).  Perhaps my solo traveling habits weren’t formed for my own speed and convenience but so that my hands and my life would be open enough to lend a hand to my fellow travelers with the huge, toppling trolleys.

I love knowing I can get myself around the world solo.  I love remembering those times and adventures.  But the adventures I am having now are wearing away at my rough edges.  Almost none of my trips are solo any more but I love the company.