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A few weeks ago, I opened it up for questions about our trip. “Ask me anything!” I proclaimed. Here’s the final half of the questions you asked, along with my answers:

1. Leave it to Leanne to ask eight questions. Seriously:

How much planning went into this? A lot, and not much. By that I mean, we planned out the cities ahead of time, but only reserved campgrounds or places to stay a few weeks ahead (at the most).

Did you budget everything, including fuel? We tried to budget, but grossly underestimated the amount of fuel required. Which is why we’re kind of limping home at this point (and why you might see the kids pushing the bus down the PA turnpike).

What would you do differently if you were starting out again? Go for six months instead of four. Make fewer stops and stay longer in each place. Do a better job budgeting fuel.

Do you have a semblance of a schedule? No. I mean, sometimes, I guess…No. No schedule. Which is very difficult for me.

How does homeschooling the kids work? We’re focusing on the basics (Math and Writing) and incorporating lesson plans on each state as we go. Maile has been homeschooling for a few years now, so it’s old hat. We also bought a pass that includes a lot of Children’s Museums, and we’ve hit a LOT of those.

Was the pace you set manageable or was it too much driving? Pace was a little much at times. I think for our next trip we’ll do fewer destinations and spend more time at each.

How did the kids occupy themselves during all the driving? Our kids did awesome. They mostly played with Legos, dolls and cars, wrote in their journals, read books, and watched movies. Oh, and got annoying about always being hungry. And didn’t like to go #2 in the bus’s toilet. When we parked up they took their toys outside.

When are you all coming to Canada? That’s on our next trip’s itinerary. We’re thinking about hitting the middle of the US, then heading up to Alaska.

2. How is Maile’s driving going? (Ashley)

Mai is a great driver. During her first stint, I was back getting the kids drinks and food and finding things for them to do. After thirty minutes I came up and sat in the passenger’s seat. “Sheesh!” I said. “This is demanding.” She looked at me with a smile. “Why do you think I’m so eager to drive?”

3. Wifi or tether? (Doug)

Tether, I think. We have a roaming hotspot that gives us Wifi through Verizon. Is that tether?

4. How are the kids keeping themselves occupied during the driving parts?

I think I answered this in one of Leanne’s plethora of questions, but I’ll also throw in coloring books and whining.

5. What were the weirdest things you saw in the following categories: plant life, insect, sign, establishment name, and food?

Good question. The palm trees in Pasadena always kind of freak me out because their roots look like something out of an alien movie. I don’t remember seeing any weird insects, although the moths in Amarillo were freakishly numerous. Weirdest sign? Nothing specific comes to mind, although Yellowstone doesn’t seem to have ANY signs. I guess the peanut sauce the Luitwielers made for us was weird, but only because of how good it tasted.

6. Is California awesome or what? (Jon)

Yes. Beyond awesome. Not at all what I had expected. The coast was quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

7. What I’d like to know is were it only you and Maile on this trip would you have approached it differently and if so how?

One thing we will do someday when we take this trip, just the two of us, is do more of the difficult stuff, like hiking down into the Grand Canyon or going on some of the tougher trails in the Redwood forest. Our younger two are still a bit young for that. I think we will get off the beaten track a little more. We would also take a much smaller vehicle and plan ahead less.

8. What is that a picture of?

Yes, it is a picture of the Tetons. We lost the brakes in the bus going over those mountains.

We will be home in two weeks! I can’t believe it. Stay tuned as we talk more about what our life is going to look like when we get back and some details regarding a few exciting new projects I’m working on.

Finally, if you have a few extra minutes:

– Like my Facebook page
– Purchase or review my E-book, “Building a Life Out of Words”
– Go eat some ice cream.

I want to be a successful writer, whatever that means. I want to be read by at least a moderate amount of people. I would like to make a decent living by arranging words on a page – strange, if you think about it, this way of conveying ideas and stories, and perhaps even stranger, this desire to profit by it.

But most days I don’t want to pay the piper. I resist the years of practice it takes to get there. Years of Ramen Noodles and driving a vehicle without hubcaps and paying tolls with change I find under the mat.

* * * * *

In 1959, Madeleine L’Engle had the idea to write A Wrinkle in Time while on a cross-country trip with her husband and children. They were in a time of transition, and she was finding herself. Or attempting to. This sounds oddly familiar.

The book “poured from (her) fingers” when they got back from the trip. She fell in love with it. Her children loved it. Her agent loved it. She wrote that she had hoped that its publication “would end a decade during which I had received countless rejection slips for more traditional books.”

But A Wrinkle in Time went unnoticed. For two years, she received rejection after rejection. She began to doubt herself. When she finally found a publisher, they took her book on reluctantly, as a personal favor and a pet project.

“Now, dear, we don’t want you to be disappointed,” her new publisher said, “but this book is not going to sell. It’s much too difficult for children. We’re publishing it as a self-indulgence because we love it, and we don’t want you to be hurt.”

* * * * *

I always want to be at the mountain top, but often I shy away from the path that leads there.

* * * * *

We’re driving out of Chicago through a drifting rain, under skies the color of wet cement. But to the west of us, a thin red band outlines the edge of the world.

“It’s funny,” Maile says from the driver’s seat. “I’ve seen a lot of sunsets, but I’ve never thought about what was out there.”

She’s right, as usual – there is a strangeness to knowing firsthand the landscapes along the way from here to the sunset: the flat plains of Iowa and South Dakota, the bison-covered slopes of Yellowstone, the forbidding Teton Pass, the wilderness of Utah and Nevada, and the intense, sobering beauty of Carmel.

The sunset is there in the western sky and it is amazing. But the path that takes me there is greater still, and it is completely worth the journey. I can vouch for that.

To read Madeleine L’Engle’s entire essay regarding the publication of A Wrinkle in Time, check out this article in the Wheaton College archives.

We all know when we’re in the middle of a fire.

I’m not talking about the wood-burning kind made up of super-hot flames. I’m talking about the kind of fire that rages on the inside, an emotional fire, the kind that leads some people to anger and others to depression. The kind of fire that leaves you second-guessing your purpose, or your current direction. Or maybe it’s a fire that feels like it’s destroying your life through loss or disappointment or failure.

Sometimes it smoulders. Sometimes it blazes through in a flash.

I can always tell when I’m in the middle of one of these fires because I start to do things that are completely unlike me. Things like getting angry at a Best Western customer service person because they told me the wrong price. Things like wanting to ram my Mac down the Mac store person’s throat because the only reason I bought AppleCare was because the woman who sold me the computer implied that it covered accidental damage. It doesn’t cover accidental damage and now I’m looking at $700 worth of repairs and weighing up whether or not throwing the Mac up against their shiny glass storefront would feel good enough to compensate for the additional financial hit I would take due to, you know, vandalism and stuff.

These are theoretical examples of course.

* * * * *

The fire rages in our lives, and in its wake we are left feeling disappointed, bitter, angry or depressed. Or all four. Or something else. The landscape of our life begins to feel charred and dead. Worthless. Mordor-like.

* * * * *

At Yellowstone National Park, I made my first acquaintance with Lodgepole Pines. A hardy species, they grow in high elevations and close together. So close together, in fact, that they thin each other out, and the dead trees fall over, leaning against the live ones. This may seem insignificant, but when a fire comes through, the leaning, dead trees provide a kind of kindling that allows the fire to race to the top of the tree line, obliterating every single tree.

The bark is also thin, lessening its resistance to heat and flames. You could say that these trees are, in some ways, built to facilitate their own death by fire.

But there’s one other thing about the Lodgepole Pine, something important, and it has to do with its pine cone. This particular cone is a prickly little son-of-a-gun, and a sticky, sappy adhesive holds it tightly shut, enclosing its seeds. The cones fall and gather on the forest floor, up to 50,000 per acre each year, but no new trees can grow, because the cones are glued shut. Nothing can open them.

Well, one thing can.

Fire.

And when that fire comes, it blazes through the Lodgepole Pines. It races up the deadwood, devouring every single tree, leaving nothing but charred, black stumps behind. Nothing but ash and death.

But it also opens up all of those pine cones, leaving millions of released seeds behind, and the seeds fall into the rich soil, and the rain and the sunlight, which can now come through, lift up a new generation of life.

* * * * *

This is what that internal fire will do for me, if I let it. It will (painfully) remove all the existing brush and deadwood and even, horror upon horrors, the living things. The things I’ve spent so much time growing and nurturing. But it also releases all the seeds of life that were stuck inside of me, the ideas and the emotions and the plans that never would have come to fruition without the fire. Without the destruction.

And the life that springs up out of that regeneration: what abundant life.

Last week I threw down the challenge: ask me anything about our trip, and I’ll answer it. Well, here goes:

1) Did you get a chance to talk to “locals” as you stopped along the way? (Paula)

Well, Paula, you should know something about me: I’m not a big talker. Especially not to strangers. I sort of have a live and let live mentality. But I’m trying to do better. I’m trying to be nice. The best conversation I had with a local was when one of the guys in the tow truck (pulling us out of the runaway truck ramp on Teton Pass) started talking to us and wanted to help Abra put on her shoes.

2) What do you do after a trip like this? (Larry)

Man, what a question. That will take a blog post to unpack. But the short version is this: find a new house, find some work, make a new life, and let the memories of this trip simmer on low for a few months.

3) What do you do about power/water when you’re overnighting at truck stops or Walmart parking lots? (Christine)

We have a 150 gallon fresh water tank that usually lasts for 3-4 days if we’re real careful. We can fill it at truck stops or rest stops or friendly gas stations. For power, we have a generator in the bottom of the bus. It uses diesel from the main tank, but not much as long as we don’t have the AC running (if we have to run the AC it uses about 1/10th of a tank during the night – ouch! – in which case we’re better off finding a campground where we can plug in to shore power).

4) What is the worst experience you had changing Willy’s sewer contraption? (Dan)

Dan, that’s just plain disgusting. But since you asked, I did unhook one time at a park where the waste pipe was much higher than usual, so when I unhooked and pulled the waste line under the bus, all of the contents still in the line ended up under the bus. But that was probably worse for the people who came after us than it was for me.

5) If you were planning the trip again. What would you be sure to include and what would you consider dropping. As far as places and “stuff.” (Eldon)

Tough one. I can’t think of a single thing I would drop. Honestly. Everything has left such a huge impression on me. I would definitely include more time on the West Coast. Yellowstone was amazing. If I were planning the trip again, I’d try to make it for six months instead of four.

6) What was your absolute favorite place to eat so far on the trip? (Clint)

We have not eaten out as much as we would have liked, due to budgetary constraints. But what comes to mind immediately is “Mother’s” in New Orleans.

7) What’s the most interesting thing you have learned on the road? (Cindy)

So many things. The Lodge Pole Pine (in Yellowstone) has a pine cone that is glued shut and only opened by fire. Our bus has a governor that will continue up-shifting even when you don’t want it to – which doesn’t sound interesting until it’s the reason your brakes go out 8400 feet up. No workers were killed while carving Mount Rushmore.

8) Actually I would like you to ask each of your children what their favorite part of the trip was so far. Would love to hear from their various ages what stands out. (Donna)

Our older two, Cade and Lucy, loved New Orleans for the simple fact that it had their favorite children’s museum. Abra can’t stop talking about Lellowcone (Yellowstone) and Marshmallow (Mount Rushmore). Sam loved it as his Uncle Sam’s, where we got to play on twenty playgrounds at once.

9) WILL WE GET MAILE’S TAKE ON THE TRIP? (Joyce)

Maile has an awesome take on the trip – check out her blog: http://mailesmucker.com

10) What was your favorite natural landscape that you encountered on your trip and why?

There were so many incredible sights. Northern New Mexico was amazing. Wyoming just outside of Yellowstone. A small stretch of canyon just west of Bighorn.

11) What’s the most interesting thing you’ve done during this portion of the trip? (Erin)

Discovering that Yellowstone is actually a huge, active volcano, and seeing all the geysers, mud pots, and boiling springs (and wildlife). I really cannot say enough about Yellowstone.

12) How has God been speaking to you on your trip? What message rings most clearly? (Jon)

To be honest, Jon, I feel like this trip has been one big game of chicken between me and God. God keeps saying, “Do you trust me?” and I keep saying, “I trust you,” and then we get stuck in a ditch. “Do you trust me?” God asks. “I trust you,” I say, and then all of my potential work falls through. “Do you trust me?” God asks. “I trust you,” I say, and then we lose our brakes in the Teton Pass. “Do you trust me?” God asks. “I trust you,” I say (warily), and now we head for home with no home of our own to go to and no solid income lined up.

Mostly I feel a lot like Sammy looks staring out over a huge lake with snow-capped mountains in the distance: overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, not understanding much, and somehow knowing I am very, very blessed.

Well, that’s only half of the questions, but I’ll get to the other half later in the week. In the mean time, here’s a question for you: If you took a trip like this, what would you be the most excited to see?

It’s Monday night and the bus is parked at a truck stop somewhere outside Des Moines. I sit in the passenger seat feeling tired and irritable, playing some game or other on my iPhone. The sun, gone from the sky, leaves a wake of color where it was just shining bright and hot a few minutes ago.

I suppose there are many tangible reasons for my irritability tonight: a desire to be home (wherever that is), anxiety about the future, and three and a half months in cramped quarters with five other people (all of whom have many more reasons to be irritated with me than I do with them). Worrying about waste water tanks and fresh water tanks and the money required to keep this beast running.

But emerging in my mind is an unsettled feeling, something new. Something that’s been gaining ground as the trip has progressed. Something beyond my own circumstances.

It started to make itself known in a tangible way a few days ago, when we were in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and we approached the on-ramp of the highway. A forlorn man stood there on the corner. He looked rather pitiful, like a homeless person who had tried to dress up and fallen horribly short. His hair looked combed, but in a way that made me think it wasn’t combed often. He looked self-conscious. Perhaps that’s what he was, because as we drove up, I noticed he held a cardboard sign. I expected the sign to say something like, “Homeless, need money.” But the words I saw scratched in black marker put a lump in my throat.

“Worthington” was written across the top, and “Daughter’s Graduation” was written along the bottom.

Worthington is a town in Minnesota, about 60 miles away. And tonight, as I sit here playing some meaningless game on my iPhone, I’m wishing I would have taken the afternoon and driven him there. Two hours out of my life. I wonder if someone going to Worthington (or that general direction) took him. Or if perhaps, at some graduation ceremony, a girl scanned the crowd, disappointed because once again her father had not come.

* * * * *

Then tonight, as we drove to a Ruby Tuesday’s to use a gift card some friends had given us, we passed another person, a woman this time, standing at another intersection.

“Stranded. Need food,” the black magic marker had written on her strip of cardboard. And again my heart caught in my throat. And my jaw clenched. And I drove on by. We went to Ruby’s and had a good meal, and my youngest cried about his dessert, and I found myself disappointed with what I had ordered.

But my stomach was full, and I wouldn’t have to worry about food until the next morning, when I would look through the fridge and eat whatever I wanted to eat.

Why didn’t I stop the van and take her along?

* * * * *

Again and again, poverty has called out to me on this trip. More than at any other time in my life. Maybe it’s because I’m out of my routine and my eyes are open. I’m looking around. I’m more aware. I’m in surroundings that I do not take for granted.

Again and again, I’ve been sorely disappointed by my response, which basically has been confusion, or uncertainty, or a willingness that comes far too late. My automatic reaction to those in need is skepticism, or distrust. Which is especially sad, considering that I have spent the last 35 years in church. 35 years going at least once a week, and up to four times a week, to a place where people meet who have dedicated their lives to following Christ. Yet after all of those years, I still don’t know how to respond to poverty.

Of course, I do not blame the church. I blame me. I’d like to say that today was the last time. Never again will I encounter poverty without doing something. Anything.

Yet that feels like so many empty promises, and I’m left here, in the passenger seat of a big blue bus, and the sky is almost dark, and I don’t feel that I understand it any better than I did before.

Last week I offered to answer any question you folks cared to ask about our trip. 24 of you took me up on it – tomorrow I begin answering them. Don’t miss it.

I love hamburgers, and at some point in my life I must have received some sort of immunity against documentaries that reveal the disgusting elements of fast food – the shows simply have no affect on me.

In Virginia I had my first Red Robin burger. Whoever thought of putting an egg on a burger is a genius (although I did have an Outback Burger in England with so many toppings – including an egg – that you couldn’t wrap your mouth around it). I love Red Robin.

I had my first Five Guys after I ran the Tough Mudder last November: the unprecedented state of tired and hungry that I had reached meant that those burgers will always hold a special place in my heart.

Then, westward bound, and the further we went, the greater the concentration of In-N-Out burger joints. Eating one of their burgers was on Maile’s to-do list, and in San Francisco we finally got to try one.

People are passionate about their burgers. Today we’re going to settle it once and for all.

Who makes the best burger?

1. The Meat

Red Robin: Perfect size, thick and juicy.
Five Guys: Not sure if the burger itself can taste any better (once again: think “just ran 12 miles”)
In-N-Out: A few rungs above McDonalds?

Winner: Five Guys (1)

2. The Bun

Red Robin: Standard sesame seed. Above average.
Five Guys: Can’t remember it. Not a good sign.
In-N-Out: Slightly toasted.

Winner: In-N-Out (1). Marshmallows, sesames, croutons: everything’s better toasted.

3. The Fixins

Red Robin: Egg and just about anything else you could ever want
Five Guys: Can’t remember it (beginning to think my lack of memory has to do with my physical state at the time)
In-N-Out: According to the menu (more on that later), not too many options

Winner: Red Robin (1)

4. The Fries

Red Robin: Gloriously thick potato fries, AND they supply that Cajun-y spice.
Five Guys: That whole memory thing.
In-N-Out: Not impressed.

Winner: Red Robin (2)

5. The Drink

Red Robin: Amazing chocolate shake.
Five Guys: Amazing…Dr. Pepper?
In-N-Out: I didn’t get their milkshake. Their loss.

Winner: Red Robin (3)

6. The Name

Red Robin: A bird. And their mascot terrified my children when they were younger.
Five Guys: It takes five guys to make one burger? Weird.
In-N-Out: Serious digestive connotations.

Winner: Red Robin (4). Scared children sit still.

7. Price

Red Robin: Have to take out a small loan to feed a family of six ($50 – $70). Usually a date-night location for us, as opposed to a family destination.
Five Guys: I don’t remember. And I think we paid for my cousin. Can’t remember.
In-N-Out: Incredibly cheap prices. Great value for money.

Winner: In-N-Out (2)

8. Environment

Red Robin: A huge picture of Einstein sticking out his tongue, along with their bird mascot, scared my children. Admittedly, they’re sensitive. Also: very comfortable chairs.
Five Guys: Not that comfortable.
In-N-Out: So full we couldn’t get a seat at first. Standard fast-food plastic seats.

Winner: Red Robin (5). My kids are older now.

9. Service

Red Robin: Average
Five Guys: Average
In-N-Out: Incredible

Winner: In-N-Out (3)

10. Cult Following

Red Robin: People love the restaurant. They love the burgers. Some of them even love the bird.
Five Guys: Passionate following who will beat you up if you don’t like their burgers. Their fan base has sort of a gangster feel.
In-N-Out: People literally swore at me when I said we might not get an In-N-Out burger during our western loop. Others implored, begged even, that we go there.

Winner: Five Guys (2)

11. Miscellaneous:

Red Robin: Fun setting, very kid friendly.
Five Guys: Plain and simple. I kind of like that.
In-N-Out: They have secret items THAT AREN’T EVEN ON THE MENU!

Winner: In-N-Out (4)

Well, there you have it. Red Robin (5), In-N-Out (4), and Five Guys (2). But we can settle this in the comments. Cast your vote. Of the three, which do you prefer?