“God settles the solitary in a home…” Psalm 68:6a
I recently returned from a business trip to the Los Angles, California area. Like many business trips, I found myself with an afternoon departure time leaving me with a long morning of free time. Since I was going to be lingering through a day, I decided to do my lounging outside the confines of TSA. My client had mentioned the Santa Monica Mountain National Recreation Area. Since I collect National Park lapel pins, I decided to take this opportunity to collect another. Therefore, I weaved my way along the Ventura Freeway amongst the morning commuters and a rising California sun to the Park visitor center. This visit was unique to other parks I have visited due to the solitary of the experience. I pulled my rental car under a shade canopy in the visitor center parking lot. Mine was the singular vehicle occupying a space designed for many. I got out of the car and looked for other visitors. There were none. I was the only visitor on this morning. 
I perused the exhibits of the visitor center and learned that I was on the King Gillette Ranch. This had been a ranch commissioned by King Camp Gillette, of the Gillette razor fame and fortune, as a “paradise on earth, California style” in the late 1920’s. I meandered from the Visitor Center along a nature trail lined with native plants, intent on working my way to see the Gillette Ranch House. In typical California fashion, the trail did not lead to the Gillette ranch house so I had drive. I found my way to yet another parking lot only this one was filled with cars. While I now parked with other cars, the atmosphere was still unsettling due to the absences of people. I wandered toward the buildings in search of King Gillette’s California styled paradise. Oddly, all of the buildings appeared to be in some sort of administrative use. There were no tourist directions or information kiosks. “Very strange”, I thought as I slowly gazed across the campus from the steps of its largest building, wondering what I should do. 
That was when I saw a young lady, hustling fawn-like, across the grass expanse disappearing down a trail on the opposite side. I considered returning to my car and heading back to the airport, since I had no idea what lay down the trail she traveled. However, she looked intent so I decided to follow my new “Mrs. Tumnus” and explore this rather drought stricken caricature of paradise. She led me under a grove of oaks and down a slightly descending trail. The tree canopy diffused the intensity of the sun but the appearance of activity ahead was still cloaked behind the glare particular to California. I could make out approximately a dozen people milling about as I strolled closer but that was not what focused my attention. It was the cameras. There were four cameras; two sets each focused on separate points of interest. I quickly stopped because the path I was on was going to take me directly across their back-sight. 
I looped around to another trail that took me further away from the activity but still let me investigate what was going on. I immediately knew what was occurring from the voice that rushed across the woodland. “C’mon, pick up that jump rope. Two minutes; start…now!”, I had to restrain myself from instinctively jumping in-place. Jillian Michaels, the tormentor of my basement workouts, was leading a workout of two hapless fellows. My wife and I had filled our winter mornings doing the Jillian’s Body Revolution. Therefore, I knew that voice and right there in front of me stood the rather small body of that distinctively large voice. 
As I looked closer, there was Bob Harper over in the corner, having an intimate discussion with one of his competitors that did not look as intimate with two cameras peering over their shoulders. I looked around me and saw a beige building with “Biggest Loser” sprawled across its entrance. I had stumbled upon the filming of an episode of the Biggest Loser. This may have been the Gillette Ranch but it is now more famous as the Biggest Loser Ranch. I pulled out my cell phone and started taking pictures, which drew the attention of an official looking individual. He approached me and inquired as to whether I was “with the show”. When he discovered that I lacked the appropriate credentials, he informed me that they could not allow me to be taking pictures. I apologized but when we continued to stare awkwardly at each other, I realized that my presence was not entirely welcome. So, I decided that it probably was time to head back to the airport rather than participating in a game of “catch me if you can” around the Biggest Loser ranch. Once I was back in the secured confines of the Burbank airport, I reflected upon how cool my little adventure had been. The unexpected surprise revealed from following “Mrs. Tumnus” provided an enjoyment, whose memory still engenders a smile within me. I would never have had the fun of discovery if I had not taken the initiative to do something different. You just never know what you might stumble upon when you explore beyond your security zones. A quick inspection of my life reveals a busy mind hard at work constructing a myriad of security zones. However, they are not really for security, but more for comfort. My tendency is toward the comfortable solitary.
My preference has been to read a book at the airport rather than explore the unfamiliar.
I cringe when confronted with social mingling in its various forms.
I would rather have on one real conversation than twenty superficial discussions of the weather.
I have turned from gatherings due to the absence of an insider to make my introduction.
I have curiously watched many a “Mrs. Tumnus” walk over a ridge into the unfamiliar and merely returned to the security zone of a known life.
I have written about being an introvert before (Hello, My Name is JD and I’m an Introvert). Yet, I still find it an embarrassing admission that even now with so many gray hairs in my beard, my actions can still be dominated by such a childlike preoccupation with self. My little surprise in the Santa Monica mountains reminded me that while it is fine to be an introvert (I needed my own blog to preach that back to me) there might just be wonderful discoveries just beyond the safe boundaries that we have established for our self-esteem. Maybe, the curious draw of the “Mr. Tumnus” or “Mrs. Tumnus” that we encounter is really the Spirit leading us to an enjoyment that will bring a lasting smiling to our hearts.
PRAYER: Father, thank you for giving me a little surprise in the Santa Monica mountains. Thank you for for encouraging me to go beyond my comfort zone while reassuring me that there is nothing wrong with me. Lord, please make this disposition to be with people that you have given me be a blessing to others. Lord, lead me to the wonderful surprises you have awaiting. I pray this in the precious name of your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen
A DEVOTED LIFE 