It's time to come home. I'm begging my husband to stay until tomorrow, the official end of our week, but he is ready to leave. He's done with the rain. He's done with sitting by the water surrounded by vicious mosquitoes. This is my favorite place, not necessarily his.
But for me it has been a worthy week. A forecast on my iPhone5c called for thunderstorms every single day. We've only had drizzle for two. And in the drizzling rain is a most peaceful feeling.
We sit on the little screen porch, with a mug of Earl Grey, and I know utter contentment.
Or, I sit by the water's edge and think of the gifts of the week:
Every morning I sit with my coffee and my Bible and I take time to read, to pray, to think. I never take time at home. My life is filled, no, I fill my life with chaos. I check my email, or I receive texts, or I'm on my iPad constantly. I don't read a book without mentally composing a blog post. At home, my devices own me not the other way around. But here, I must walk to the North Camp Lodge for wi-fi. I must be intentional about my time for technology.
I have worn two sweatshirts, two pairs of shorts, one pair of jeans and thee t-shirts the entire week. I have worn my glasses and not a stroke of lipstick. It is wonderful not thinking about how I look.
My son has gone for hours every afternoon on his canoe. He takes his Marine backpack, his paperback copy of A Game of Thrones, and a few beers; I don't see him until dinner. But, he comes in for dinner. We laugh while we eat. His spirit is joyful, and I am learning (not a moment too soon) how to let him be a free 23 year old instead of an 8 year old who needed me.
The rainy forecast, which did not materialize; the onslaught of mosquitoes, which prevent hikes; the requirement to live in a very rustic manner can rob people of joy. Or, I can make of it what I will...finding joy even while I scratch a fresh bite on my ankle.
When I return home I want to remember the importance of simplicity. The importance of time spent intentionally. The importance of laying down expectations while accepting the joy in what is.
When I return home, I will visit you. I have not much ability for internet connection here, just a moment or two to record a few thoughts. Before I return to the pier.
