The kids and I drove out last minute, after an appointment, right around dinner time, to meet my parents at our recently purchased family cabin. Only to stay one night and drive home the next evening. We concluded some time was better than none at all.
There was so much forest, as we drove deeper into it you could feel the worlds social grip sliding away. At the cabin there was no running water or electricity- which is deliciously rustic, and puts outdated candles in their glory. Wax dripping over the edge of bottles and candle light flickering on the wall. A lantern hanging over the kitchen table that we all played a game of dominoes under in its light. We were cozy and warm with the little pot belly stove burning bright in the middle of the main room. So warm we cracked open the porch door, and took turns dancing on the deck putting on a good show for the kitchen onlookers. The wind howled and it poured rain that night. Our only night. But we were as warm as toast, the boys even threw off their pj shirts and squirmed excitedly in the bunks. And I loved sleeping next to a fire.
The next day was full of simple adventures that were beautiful and relaxing. A burn pile, discoveries, walks, lunch on the dock, and naps. The kids adored the time with their Grandparents. So even tho it was quite a bit of driving for one night and one day- that in its self was completely worth it.
The lake was still frozen, but it’s shores roared with vibrant green coniferous trees, and the sun beat down. I could picture summer. I could hear the kids jumping off the dock and floating about in inner-tubes. I settled in my mind to try to swim the lake to the other side. Standing there with dreams of summer, I felt peace. Tinged with excitement for the days to come. I found the forest and vast spaces of the wilderness and lake gave me perspective. Sometimes I get caught up in all the conversations of life, the worries of friends, and all the things I’m trying to do. But then I get away, even for a day, where it’s so quite the groans and creaks of the bony old trees fill the woods with sound. Where everything is coming back alive after seemingly dead all winter. And I remember how powerful my God of hope is. How the caretaker of the wood and water thawing and coming to life is- GOOD. That his love for us is vast, wide and deep. More so than the heights of the treed mountains or the depths of the cool lakes floor.
He’s got this.
Lets rest in his capable care, and open our eyes to all the good things He’s doing. And even if it’s only an hour, (doesn’t have to be a day away!) maybe you can find some woods and get a fresh perspective.