Ground Beneath My Feet

I’m back from an East Texas Pineywood campout and my memory card is full of pretty.

If our packing and planning lack focus (and they do; we literally throw things in the truck at the last minute and run for the hills) we more than make up for it once we get there.  We take our eyes off of the distracting stuff like Flickr and Ravelry, or   texts and games, and put it on one another and God.  Even ordinary chores require more thought and take on a meditative aspect: washing dishes, cooking unhurried meals with just a pot and a fire, and conversations under constellations.  We get to really “feel” everything we do.  We have more time in the evenings together for reading or card playing.  I even have to take a walk to get to the bathroom so there is plenty of time to just think.

And I did.  I thought about our family- our strengths and weaknesses.  I thought of the families my husband and I came from and their strengths and weaknesses that we each contribute to our home.   With nothing to cloud my vision, I considered my sometimes crummy attitude about life.

I thought things through while I ran trails around the lake and stooped to consider the very leaves I was running on.  Sometimes I ran with my camera on my back to capture as much of this treed world as I could because it has to last me the rest of the year here in my “Wasteland of Progress.”

I love the concentration trails take to navigate, the split second decisions of where to place my foot on uneven ground, rocks, or  roots.

(day 64, ttv 52 week 9)

Needless to say, I had that sleepy, sunburnt feeling you get after a day at the beach the whole ride home.   And I am returning refreshed, reconnected, grounded.

Then I hear about earthquakes and a tsunami wrecking that very solidity for thousands of others and feel the weight of my ingratitude for the steady ground under my feet, for a home to return to.   What a huge thing to take for granted.