The Unlikely Messenger: A Slice of Life with Debra Brown
Every good and perfect gift is from above…” – James 1:17.
“I had dreamed of this cruise for years,” I thought as the summer sun streamed through the jet’s windows.
Five days in Barcelona, then sailing the Mediterranean with my daughter Meredith to celebrate her high school graduation. It was my ultimate summer bucket list trip. I’d saved, planned, and Pinterest-boarded each detail. I booked excursions in every port. I wanted it to be perfect—one last memory before college and adulthood.
Barcelona delivered with blue skies, a historic spa hotel, and rich culture. We visited Gaudí’s La Sagrada Familia and Park Güell, explored the Gothic Quarter, and strolled La Rambla.
“It’s arugula!” Meredith cried, laughing after we ordered an exotic rocket salad at a sidewalk tapas bar. Spanish spices of paprika and saffron tickled our senses in the small plate offerings.
“I don’t want to leave,” Meredith said, while sunning at the beach. Barcelona’s charm and sea breezes were the perfect setup for the cruise to come.
Our first port: Sicily. We hiked Mount Etna’s crater, sipped cappuccinos, and shopped in Taormina overlooking the Ionian Sea.
But I hadn’t planned for the heat.
Or the crowds.
Or the pressure I’d placed on this trip to be magical.
In Mykonos, we wandered by white-washed houses, lunched near yachts, and climbed Mount Kynthos on the island of Delos. “We made it to the top!” I shouted, and then snapped photos of Meredith near the Terrace of the Lions.
By day five in Kusadasi, Turkey, I was melting, literally and emotionally. We toured a rug shop, sipped chilled apple tea, and dined where stray cats outnumbered diners. Under the 100-degree sun, my dream vacation started to feel like survival.
“I just need a second,” I whispered, ducking into a shaded alley.
“You OK, Mom?” Meredith asked, handing me a lukewarm water.
“Yep.” I brushed sweat from my brow and offered a weary smile.
Later, chants of the call to prayer echoed across the city as we found ancient Christian crosses etched in the stone. Meredith, moved by the moment, sang Va Pensiero, the chorus of the Hebrew slaves. I felt God’s touch.
Then came Ephesus, a city of breathtaking ruins.
Tens of thousands of tourists and cats filled the ruins, but I didn’t care. Walking through the ancient streets felt like stepping into a living museum, where every stone whispered stories of a vibrant past. The Library of Celsus spoke to me with its echoes of ancient knowledge.
We found quiet in the Great Theatre until Cleopatra and Mark Anthony stormed the scene. After walking the footsteps of apostle Paul and Mary, our guide handed us icy lavender-scented towels.
The fragrance hit me like a breeze—unexpected and healing. My shoulders relaxed. I heard Meredith laughing with another teen, her eyes lit with joy.
“I’m glad we came,” Meredith said, grinning. “Even the heat’s kinda part of it.”
But it wasn’t until July 4, our third sea day, that I truly exhaled.
No tours. No crowds. Just stillness.
Meredith slept in. I sat on the balcony with a journal as the ship gently rocked. The morning sun sparkled across the ocean. And I wrote:
Freedom isn’t always fireworks and flags. Sometimes it’s letting go of how things “should” feel and choosing to enjoy what actually is.
I thought about all the planning. Was a long list of must-see sights really the best vacation?
It was my own Independence Day as I released expectations and vowed to do and see what we wanted at our pace.
We pressed on. In Athens, we climbed to the Parthenon in steamy rain. In Naples, we tasted authentic pizza and explored nearby Pompeii’s eerie ruins where the Roman city and residents were covered in ash and preserved in time. Every place had a story to tell, and we took the time to listen.
Then came picturesque Sorrento with soaring cliffs over the Mediterranean waters. We stood in awe, taking it all in. In a lemon grove, a mischievous old man tossed us the biggest lemons I’d ever seen.
“For the American bellas!” he called.
We doubled over laughing, hearts light again.
The cruise wrapped with grand stops. But the quiet magic happened between the big events: tossing coins into the Trevi Fountain, sitting at tables on cobblestones shared with passing cars, cooling off with gelatos in Florence, and making lavender sachets in Tuscany. In St. Tropez, we dined by the crystal sea, a breeze carrying the scent of flowers and fresh-baked bread—a tranquil, memorable ending.
The trip wasn’t perfect, but it was unforgettable.
Lavender towels. Lemon trees. Laughter.
And freedom found in unexpected places.
The Mediterranean offered a journey through time and sacred stories. The ancient sites evoked a spiritual connection of history, nature, and a sense of God’s presence; the different cities provided a tapestry of experiences to last forever.
The trip taught me to loosen my grip on control and open my hands to grace because all blessings originate from God, not from ourselves or our efforts.
For every good and perfect gift isn’t always planned. It’s given from above.
Debra Brown’s motto is “Be the Spark.” She has a passion for family, her 3 cats, flowers, pretty food, and health & wellness. Devra is an author, UGA honors graduate/The Citadel MBA.