A week of boating and sunshine and dirt and gooey, sticky things roasted over an open fire? A week of tan lines and cousin snuggles and sunset paddles and full moons? A whole week of chocolate and whiffle ball and big, cushiony, springy-seat bike rides? Of scooters and hats and sunglasses and milkshakes?
Yes, yes please. And also, no, no thank you.
I’ve come to grips with a part of myself that has been aching to be known, to shake hands with, to look me in the eye. Two things, actually.
I recharge by being active.
I recharge by being alone.
Those two things can be very dangerous on an extended family camping trip when the goal is to sit around in a beach chair, drink, and talk to your family.
And quite possibly this should be an apology letter for how misbehaved I was. How much I removed myself from all the potential conversations and relational opportunities and found something to busy myself with. Or, quite possibly, maybe I should just stop apologizing and take it for what it’s worth. And the takeaways are important.
Family, no matter how put together we are, we are also so broken, but that doesn’t make it unbearable.
Watching kids play together is completely fulfilling, especially when it comes with fun noodles, blow up things and things with wheels.
The courage to try something new, overcoming a previous fear and succeeding, makes my heart bounce out of my chest and my smile overtake my entire face.
