The last weekend. How does that even happen?!?
Was it not just yesterday that it was early spring and we were opening up the camper and cleaning at the campground? Was it not just yesterday that we had the entire summer before us… ours for the taking, our memories for the making…
Oh I knew it was going to be a fast summer… it always is. I knew it was going to slip by in a blink… it always does. The quickness in the rushing passage of time over the summer did not surprise me, and the memories that were collected over that quick tick of the clock did not disappoint me.
Simply said, it was another amazing summer at the lake.
As I type those words I hesitate, feeling the urge to drag my cursor back over them and hit delete… or at least change them… try lessen their potency, puncture their power… downplay their grandeur. But it was amazing, and I’m not sure why that makes me feel so darn guilty, but it does. I’ve so often carried guilt in equal association with my time and experiences at the lake. Part of me wants to just hide away all the amazingness of my time here, and part of me wants to say, who really cares if people are jealous or don't get it. Get over it, go get yourself a camper, and grab the vacant spot up the row from us. (ummmmm, sorry)
It’s no lie, I love the lake. I love the peace. I love the nature. I love the water. I love the sunrises and sunsets. I love the laughter and activity. I love the slower pace, the relaxed environment, the change in routine. I love the acceptableness of sitting… of being… of enjoying the luxury of community without expectation and explanation. I love that God is here, always near, always breathing in the breeze, whispering in the wind, listening in the liquid lapping of waves upon the shore.
There’s magic in the shores of this place, and on the docks and decks of this community. I know I’ve said this before, but I truly believe it to the very core of my soul. There is a salve, a balm, a healing power here that slowly just seeps into the very pores of your skin, into the very depths of your soul, redirecting you, refreshing you, refilling you, rejuvenating you, relaxing you, releasing you.
I think back to a year ago… it’s been quite the year this these past twelve months. It’s been quite the summer these past five months. The amount of miles I logged on my running app at this sacred place this season leaves me humbled and honored. I did not miss one workout, one scheduled run while I was here this summer. Not overly impressive for most probably, but near miraculous for me. In two quick weeks I will be, Lord willing, running 13.1 miles with hundreds (possibly thousands!?! eek) with an official race bib and timed GPS chip pinned neatly to my shirt. Who would have thought. Surely not I.
Was it not just yesterday that it was early spring and we were opening up the camper and cleaning at the campground? Was it not just yesterday that we had the entire summer before us… ours for the taking, our memories for the making…
Oh I knew it was going to be a fast summer… it always is. I knew it was going to slip by in a blink… it always does. The quickness in the rushing passage of time over the summer did not surprise me, and the memories that were collected over that quick tick of the clock did not disappoint me.
Simply said, it was another amazing summer at the lake.
As I type those words I hesitate, feeling the urge to drag my cursor back over them and hit delete… or at least change them… try lessen their potency, puncture their power… downplay their grandeur. But it was amazing, and I’m not sure why that makes me feel so darn guilty, but it does. I’ve so often carried guilt in equal association with my time and experiences at the lake. Part of me wants to just hide away all the amazingness of my time here, and part of me wants to say, who really cares if people are jealous or don't get it. Get over it, go get yourself a camper, and grab the vacant spot up the row from us. (ummmmm, sorry)
It’s no lie, I love the lake. I love the peace. I love the nature. I love the water. I love the sunrises and sunsets. I love the laughter and activity. I love the slower pace, the relaxed environment, the change in routine. I love the acceptableness of sitting… of being… of enjoying the luxury of community without expectation and explanation. I love that God is here, always near, always breathing in the breeze, whispering in the wind, listening in the liquid lapping of waves upon the shore.
There’s magic in the shores of this place, and on the docks and decks of this community. I know I’ve said this before, but I truly believe it to the very core of my soul. There is a salve, a balm, a healing power here that slowly just seeps into the very pores of your skin, into the very depths of your soul, redirecting you, refreshing you, refilling you, rejuvenating you, relaxing you, releasing you.
I think back to a year ago… it’s been quite the year this these past twelve months. It’s been quite the summer these past five months. The amount of miles I logged on my running app at this sacred place this season leaves me humbled and honored. I did not miss one workout, one scheduled run while I was here this summer. Not overly impressive for most probably, but near miraculous for me. In two quick weeks I will be, Lord willing, running 13.1 miles with hundreds (possibly thousands!?! eek) with an official race bib and timed GPS chip pinned neatly to my shirt. Who would have thought. Surely not I.
Yesterday my hubs game me the unexpected gift of one last long run at the lake this morning. All summer I ran all my long runs here at dawn on Friday mornings. The last few weeks, now that school is back in session, I have had to run those double digits miles around and around the blocks and blocks of our tiny town… and it’s hard enough just making yourself have to run that distance, and to me it seems even harder to have to keep weaving up and down streets here, there, and everywhere just to get in the milage length I needed. And there is just something about running at the lake… under the black canopy of stars and wispy night clouds that slowly emerges into the vibrance of the awakening dawn… in the middle of nowhere with this indescribable beauty of nature and countryside spreading far and wide all around you.
I don’t know how many photos I’ve taken or how many miles my shoes have logged this season. I don’t know exactly how many days and nights I’ve spent here or how many miles I’ve put on my vehicle coming and going here every week. I don’t know how many laughs and conversations I’ve enjoyed here or how many tears I’ve shed here (happy and sad). I don’t know how many golf cart rides I’ve gone on, how many naps I’ve taken, books I’ve read, or blogs I’ve written here. I don’t know how many cups of coffee and bananas I’ve eaten here… but I know it’s been a lot in each and every one of those categories. A lot a lot… And a lot of peace and grace. A lot of silence and quiet, a lot of laughter and activity. A lot of alone time, a lot of family time, and a lot of community friendship time. The perfect mix of soul care, self awareness and growth, and family and friend time. It’s been hours in the sun, hours under the stars, hours spent alone, hours spent together, hours spent with God.
Words and photos honestly can’t really capture or describe all this place is and does to me and for me. And I’m ok with that, because in my head… in the endless slide show in my mind… is a continual looping of so many amazing things… so many edifying things… so many happy and filling things that mix and match and mesh with the here and there and everywhere's of my everyday, no matter where I am or what time of year it is.
The memories, the moments, the miles, the miracles, the magic. This place holds it all, offers it all, delivers it all. As in every place and every day of our lives, our life simply is what we choose to make it. And I have chosen to make this place, and this season each year, a priority, a splurge, an indulgence, a justification, a filled need. Yes, I do carry guilt with this, but obviously not enough to actually keep me from continuing to come here.
It’s a bittersweet day today knowing tonight will be my last sleep here. Today was my last long double digit half marathon training run (which I’ve been at allllllll summer long), my last day alone, my last sunrise, my last sunset, my last hurrah before we wake up tomorrow morning and start packing up and closing it all up until next spring.
Tomorrow when I drive away, I won’t get to come back for seven long, cold months.
Oh how I thank the Lord for getting us to this place three seasons ago. We drove in, looking only to hide and hurt alone as we journeyed and mourned the loss of Faith MaryJo. We did hide, we did hurt, we did mourn, we did slowly start to heal in tiny ways… oh but God had a much larger vision beyond that low and horrible season and moment in our lives. He brought us here as a long term gift for each of us in so many ways…. so many many ways. I am grateful for the abundance and blessing we received here in our loss. I honestly can’t imagine my life without all of this, which I say and try express in the most humblest and honoring of ways.
I’m not sure if I’m actually supposed to publicly encourage this - but choose to live life to the fullest. Choose to embrace the magic and moments that bring you greatest joy and fulfillment. Choose to live life just a little slower, a little more intentional, a little more fuller and richer. Choose to put yourself and your family first before getting lost and caught up in the chaos of everything else screaming for our time and attention. Choose to say no to some things so you are able to actually say yes to other more important and filling things. Choose to be healthy, choose to be happy. Choose to allow God to show up, choose to listen to His whisper, choose to allow Him to abide in and around you where you feel Him most clear and near, simply put yourself where you know you’ll experience Him, He’s waiting for us… He’s patiently waiting for each and every one of us. Choose to be a tiny bit selfish, a tiny bit indulgent, a tiny bit greedy. You are absolutely worth it.
Find your personal lake life, find what fills you, and simply grab on. I did, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
I thank the Lord for the land, sand, water, beaches, boats, birds, bonfires, decks, docks, silence, laughter, vibrant skylines, friendships, family, health, happiness, memories, and the many many moments of this past season here at the lake. Thank you.
I thank the Lord for the land, sand, water, beaches, boats, birds, bonfires, decks, docks, silence, laughter, vibrant skylines, friendships, family, health, happiness, memories, and the many many moments of this past season here at the lake. Thank you.
I will drive away with a smile mixed with more than a few tears tomorrow, grateful, thankful, and beyond blessed. Absolutely beyond blessed.
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