I don’t want to be a bother, I thought, as my search came up empty. We had just checked into our hotel room with a kitchenette, and I was looking for dishwashing soap to clean the dishware we’d be using over the next few days. I had already called down to the busy front desk one time, requesting extra linens for our bed. I didn’t want to call again and make a nuisance of myself when I knew it was a busy time for the staff. So when we went to a local grocery store, I picked up a bottle of dishwashing soap that was far bigger than what we needed—it was the cheapest option. I still didn’t have a sponge to use (the store didn’t carry them) but figured a clean washcloth from one of the bathrooms would do.

That’s the kind of person I am, equal parts “I want things to be just so” and “I don’t want to impose to get them that way.” Maybe life would be easier if I were more like my husband, who doesn’t sweat the small stuff. But that’s what keeps our marriage running: He takes the long view (buying plane tickets and making hotel reservations) while I busy myself with the mechanics of things (packing meds, toiletries, and all else; devising shopping lists for our destination points when needed).

Forgetting something. Aside from getting on an airplane and flying, this is my greatest travel-related fear. And it’s inevitable that I do, because I’m human, have a special needs child with special travel requirements, and must account for certain chronic health conditions within our family.

We who call ourselves Christians—how do we walk the planet knowing we are bound from the beginning not to succeed at being self-sufficient? Our inevitable “I forgots” are only exacerbated in a foreign environment. And there seems to be something inherently faithless about trying to wrest control of the situation by planning weeks in advance, obsessing over packing lists, stressing over a trip that should bring a little R&R to people who really need it. Few things grieve me more than an “I get to” becoming an “I have to” because I am making an ordeal out of something that is supposed to be joyful. Fear sucks the life out of anything good if you allow it to come in and take over.

And yet, are we fully to blame if we find ourselves worrying over events that pose legitimate challenges? My son has nonverbal autism, and traveling with him is always daunting because we do not know in advance how he will respond to things. Will he suffer from sensory overload in public places, melt down if we are forced to wait in a line, run off and get lost in a crowd? Will his jumping and chirping draw stares from those around us, adding to the pressure of leaving home? Any parent would find these variables distressing, special needs or not. I like to think God understands that.

Despite these problems, my husband and I are committed to taking our son out into the world, trying to expose him to as many new sights and experiences as he can tolerate and even enjoy. Thus far he has ridden on trains, flown on four airplanes, and made numerous car rides. As long as we keep moving and bring lots of snacks, he does well. Picture schedules that show the sequence of steps we will be taking also help. But nagging questions persist: just how far can we go, how long of a plane ride can he endure? How crowded of an airport? Even when all goes relatively smoothly, the hypervigilance we must exercise over him while wrangling our own suitcases, tickets, etc., leaves us exhausted.

You know that saying, “I need a vacation from my vacation”? That proves especially true for us. We are always so grateful to come home and sleep in our own beds, returning to an environment that has been customized to keep our son happy and safe.

Back to the dishwashing soap. At dinner time that first night, my husband and son left the hotel to get takeout while I stayed in to cook my son’s dinner (he has a very limited diet). Soon I heard a knock at the door and was met by a worker offering me a small bottle of soap and a sponge. My husband had asked for them on his way out, moments earlier. If only I had waited and trusted that the hotel could supply these things in due time, I wouldn’t have wasted the money or effort to find my bigger bottle in the very crowded grocery store. The provision was always there. I just hadn’t trusted the timing of receiving it when things calmed down in the lobby and my husband could ask for them. I had pushed myself into getting something that would have been freely given if I had but waited a little while. And now the larger bottle would go to waste as we had no room in our suitcases to bring it back home, nor any way of ensuring the contents wouldn’t leak out and cause a mess. Talk about self-inflicted stress.

This episode reminds me of the story in Luke’s gospel where sisters Martha and Mary are hosting Jesus in their home (Luke 10:38–42). Mary sits at Jesus’ feet while Martha rushes about, presumably preparing a meal. Irked by the inequity of their workload, Martha tries to enlist Jesus’ help in making Mary get up and assist her. “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” (Luke 10:40).

Jesus replies, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:41–42).

This interchange has always made me uncomfortable, because I feel that Martha gets a bad rap. After all, she is working for the benefit of others and lunch does have to be served, doesn’t it? What if we all laid about like Mary when action need be taken? Things don’t just appear like magic. Actual people have to put them in place, just like I have to carefully stock suitcases when preparing for a trip. The only way Jesus’ words to Martha make sense is if you hear them as a statement of compassion—Jesus gently steering the grocery cart away from Martha’s hands and saying, “You don’t need to look for that soap in this busy store. Relax. I’ll provide it later. After all, I am the miracle worker, aren’t I?”

With his words Jesus wasn’t rebuking Martha, he was intoning his love for her. Saying her name twice gives it all away. He really wants her to get what he’s saying because he knows how deep her need goes. She likely never rests, but spins in perpetual motion trying to get things done. Trying to recruit others to save her from drowning in a sea of “to-dos.” It’s hard watching others be content when you are miserable in your own “short end of the stick” circumstances. Believe me, as a special needs parent I know. Never am I more unhappy than when I compare my son’s deficits to his peers’ strengths. It just doesn’t seem fair. And the fact that I have no earthly idea how—or even whether—what he needs will be provided for on time makes it only worse. Astronomically worse.

What, exactly, was Mary choosing that would never be taken away from her? By sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to his teaching, she was supping on a different kind of meal than the one Martha was preparing. She was feeding herself wisdom, life, love, directly from the mouth of the Messiah himself. She would likely never forget the look on Jesus’ face when he told a certain story or got to the punchline of a joke. From her vantage point, she would have the benefit of Jesus staring right back into her eyes, taking in her face with his brilliant countenance. Mary knew her need and so set about trying to fill it.

Martha probably suffered the same kinds of emotional and spiritual needs but wasn’t as successful at meeting them. There would always be more dinners to serve, more pots to wash. There would not always be Jesus so close, at such intimate and loving nearness. If Jesus hadn’t redirected her, what would she have taken away from that day? What would have been taken away from her?

We don’t know whether Martha relented and sat down next to her sister. I like to imagine that Jesus was so persuasive it would be impossible to turn him down. And I want the same to be true for me. Amid any of the traveling we do in the future with my son, I want to be able to mentally stop and be present in the goodness of the moment. To be thankful for the privilege of widening his world, thankful for the resources to go places that offer fun and a very necessary change of scenery.

Next time I will wait for what I need instead of pushing so hard to get it. I will try to adopt a posture of trust as I remember that God pays attention to even the smallest of details. I will attempt to absorb the good parts of trips that will never be taken from us as a family. I will let others serve me as did my husband, as did the hotel worker and the staff at the front desk. God works through people. We just need to remember to pray for what we most need and give them a chance to come through for us.

Next stop – time off in June down south. I’ll let you know how it goes. Hopefully all will be well, as we take one step at a time, both in preparation and in the enjoyment of the trip. Pray for us! And feel free to share your vacation stories—what worked and what proved stressful. I believe we can help each other by our testimonies of travel.

All to the glory of God. Amen.