The Welcome Detour

“I get really jealous of runners like that.” We were driving past the University of Utah on the way to chemo. Matt looked over and asked why. “Because I can’t. Not right now. And I want to so badly but I know that even at my best, during recovery, I still don’t have enough energy to run.” We sat in silence for a moment, Brazilian pop accenting the silent space. “Embrace where you’re at.” That was it; he kept his gaze forward, navigating Salt Lake’s East Bench.

Almost a year ago, I was standing on a deserted dirt road in a small town whose name I couldn’t pronounce in a small district called Mayaga in a small Central African Country. I was lost, apparently, and had dragged my project team into this quagmire along with me. Our mission statement had been very clear: make theatre with orphans from this particular small orphan village in Mayaga. Simple. Standing on this dirt road on a hot, dusty afternoon in September, it had become painfully clear that there were no such orphans, and if there were, we had no chance of finding them. My team grimaced, and then slowly began to fume. We’d spent almost a year planning this project. We’d coordinated, researched and fundraised, all to be able to make theatre with these kids. And we just couldn’t find them. They turned to me, their fearless leader, or more appropriately a clear channel to direct their anger. Instead, I was grinning ear to ear, almost goofy in the face. “Hey let’s go ride some motorcycles back to the main road!!” Two days later, we were contacted by a deaf school for children run out of Butare, Rwanda, the town where we were living. They would be delighted to have participants from our workshop come and work with their kids. Witnessing firsthand the strong, almost inseparable bond that immediately formed when my student participants started making theatre with these kids remains one of the highlights of my life, and one of the most welcome detours in my road.

I’m heading back up to my family’s cabin in Brighton for the weekend. Last Monday, when Matt and I visited, the colors on either side of the canyon wall were beginning to change to vibrant oranges and reds. It’s been years since I’ve visited Brighton. It felt like I was given a lens through which to see it that day with completely new vision. I was in awe of this place I’ve been coming to since I was born, the familiar made new.

I want to give you a challenge this weekend (perhaps mainly because I’ve challenged myself and could use some company here). Embrace where you’re at. I promise I will too.

Judd