I’ve been posting pictures of our family travels for several years. I love to capture and/or stage a moment of sweetness and light that’s fit to gaze upon with a happy sigh. I wouldn’t dream of posting a photo that hadn’t been cheered up by one of the editing apps on my phone, either; I want to record how vivid the moment really was, and filters help me do it. But like everyone else who struggles with the blessings and curses of social media, I often feel false when I think of all the things viewers will not see when they look at my dolled-up images. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but some important ones are still omitted from my photo stories. I thought writing about our adventures would provide a fuller description of what actually happens when two middle-aged parents, six kids, and a dog roam the country together in an RV.

I just read a great little book by Frederick Buechner called On the Road with the Archangel. It’s a retelling of the apocryphal Book of Tobit, which I’d never heard of, since my Protestant-oriented Bible doesn’t include it. (I started out reading the book to my husband, Brandon, and neither of us was sure what was and wasn’t “apocryphal,” so we wikkied it and took a delightful side trip before we ever got to the story. We found a chart that listed every book included in the Bibles of all the various Christian tribes. I don’t care what anybody says, wikipedia is great, and it is as expansive as the library of Nineveh, as long as your battery holds out.) Anyway, the Book of Tobit and On the Road with the Archangel are set during the Assyrian captivity of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, and the stories feature parents, children, a dog, and a journey.  There’s also an angel, sent by God, to aid the other hapless characters. I like reading Buechner because he writes about people with affection; he makes them likable despite their foolishness and frailty and obliviousness of the jaw-dropping kindness God is extending to them.

Based on the chaotic exit we made from Lubbock on our departure day (one week and one day late), we don’t expect to appear any less ridiculous than the folks in Buechner’s book. Like Tobit, we trust “how, though never condoning the shadows that dwell in the human heart, [the Holy One] is forever dispatching angels of light to deal with them mercifully.”