I can picture nearly every detail of my mother’s hands. Her long, slender fingers. The shape of her nails. The freckles sprinkled across her olive skin. I can picture her knuckles and the faint lines of age that scatter like rivers of time across the once smooth surface.
I think of all the work those hands have done. The work of six babies brought into the world. The work of home and business and life beside. The sinks of dishes and the babies bathed. The gardens tended; the meals prepared. The paint brushes and flutes held and brought to life by the touch of those hands. The babies (and toddlers, and children, and teens, and adult children, and grandchildren) held and soothed by the touch of her hands. My father’s hands in hers; my father’s heart in her hands.
I look at my hands now and I see the hands of my mother – long,
slender fingers, freckles sprinkled across olive skin, the faint lines of age scattered
like rivers of time. The work of two babies brought into the world. The work of
home and business and life beside. The sinks of dishes and babies bathed. The gardens
tended; the meals prepared. The words tapped out or bled in ink across the
page. The babies (and toddlers and children) held and soothed by the touch of
my hands. My husband’s hands in mine; his heart in my hands.
I remember when I first noticed how much my hands look like my mother’s, and it bothered me. The way time and age show in the freckles and lines of my skin. For a moment, I just wanted to be younger and smooth-skinned again.
But then I think about how much I love my mother’s hands – how I love them all the more for the lines and wrinkles. The image of her hands speaks love, comfort and strength. The age in her skin testifies to years lived, loved, and offered up. Her hands, the hands that held me first in this world. My own hands, still so busy with the work of motherhood. Every line and freckle, a testament to time, to use, to love given.
I wonder if my children will remember my hands – and what they will think of if they do. Gentleness? Strength? A cell phone? What will the work of my hands represent in their memory? I hope, like my mother’s gentle hands, the memories are sweet. And when I look at my aging hands now, I do not mind that they remind me of my mother.
such a beautiful, beautiful tribute. I once wrote about my hands, and how they have aged. Our hands, as mothers, wives, friends, reach out in love, care and work. You have beautiful hands, as does your Mom. <3 CathiReplyCancel
The last of the fall leaves drift to the ground. The now naked trees show their age in gray branches covered in scabby lichen. How long the trees have stood here, I do not know. Long enough to decline. Long enough to nearly die. With roots laced deeply in the rocky earth, still they hold fast. Branches reaching for the sun and sky. Today, moody clouds drift above – beyond their reach.
I’ve always loved trees. Many of my childhood memories include
one – one I climbed, sat in to read, or paced beneath with the toil of my
thoughts. In the shadow of their beloved branches, I put down roots of my own.
I’ve wanted to be a tree. Like the Ents in Lord of the Rings
— old, wise, firmly rooted against the elements. In the summer, face to the
sun. In the winter, defiant to the cold. Unmoving.
But today, I want to cut them all down. Their roots make me
claustrophobic. How can they stand in the same spot all their days – ever
looking up, ever reaching out, feet in the unforgiving concrete of place?
Today, I’d be a cloud. Untethered. Moving with the breeze. Ethereal.
Perhaps it’s winter’s impending gloom. The gathering in and
staying put that leaves me as restless as the fleeting clouds. Or maybe, this
wildness is good. A sign of life still pulsing through buried roots.
If you grow the same thing in the same ground for too many
seasons, you deplete the soil. Perhaps people are no different. We are meant to
be rooted, yes. But we’re made for growth and change too. We aren’t trees after
all – meant to stand in the same soil all our days.
The trees in my backyard are dead and dying. Suffocated by
invasive vines. Eaten up by caterpillars. Marked by weather and storms. Once
smooth skin now bears the wrinkles of moss and decay. I can ignore their
condition when hidden by leaves. But autumn reveals their plight. Their bony
branches reach like skeletal fingers to the sky. I follow their line to the
blue beyond – all sunshine and wisps of feathery cloud; and I ache to leave
their death and rootedness behind.
I’ve spent the year reading whatever I want; it’s wonderful. As soon as I’m knee-deep into one great read, I learn of another. I read this book simply for my love of Tolkien and Lewis — and was happily surprised to learn about so much more.
For the Love of History
I didn’t realize how much I enjoy history but books like this one bring the past to life. Honestly, I think I learned more about the First World War in this one book than I ever did in school. Loconte sets the scene for the social and political situation leading up to the war and helps the reader understand the motivation behind the atrocities that rocked the early 1900s.
Better understanding the world Tolkien and Lewis lived in helps the reader better appreciate the heart and nuances of their writing. Loconte carries the reader through the formative experiences each of these authors would have encountered, especially in their military service.
Loconte explains that for Tolkien and Lewis
… the Great War deepened their spiritual quest. Both men served as soldiers on the Western Front, survived the trenches, and used the experience of that conflict to shape their Christian imagination.
…
It can be argued that these epic tales—involving the sorrows and triumphs of war—would never have been written had these authors not been flung into the crucible of combat.
Loconte, p.p. xii-xiii
The Great Paradox
Earlier this summer, I read Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton—a contemporary of Lewis and Tolkien. It was then I began to grapple with the concept of paradox. Paradox being the idea that two seemingly contradictory statements can simultaneously be true. Reading Orthodoxy laid the groundwork for my understanding of the many paradoxes Tolkien and Lewis would wrestle with in their own writing.
Chesterton explains of paradox:
His spiritual sight is stereoscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that. Thus he has always believed that there was such a thing as fate, but such a thing as free will also. Thus he believed that children were indeed the kingdom of heaven, but nevertheless ought to be obedient to the kingdom of earth. He admired youth because it was young and age because it was not. It is exactly this balance of apparent contradictions that has been the whole buoyancy of the healthy man. The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand.
Chesterton, Orthodoxy
Light in the Darkness
In a time left cynical and shattered by war, Lewis and Tolkien sought to bring light to a disillusioned world. But men who had so intimately witnessed the depravity of war could offer no trite solutions to the darkness. In each of their master works, these authors skillfully wrestle with the paradox of light in the darkest of times.
My Takeaways
First, I’m amazed by how much I learned about the history of the First World War. I walked away with a much better appreciation of my own freedom and the sacrifices of those who fought to grant me such freedom. What I didn’t except to grapple with was whether or not the first Great War should have happened at all. I was also surprised to learn about the church’s role in the history of war and the unfortunate ways she moved with culture to create an even worse situation at times.
Secondly, I came away with a much better understanding of both Lewis and Tolkien and the many ways war shaped their lives, faith, writing and world view. I’d love to re-read their works with this perspective in mind.
Finally, I again found myself wrestling with the difficult idea of paradox. The more I read, the more I’m challenged to see the world as the complicated mixture of light and darkness that it is. There are no easy answers for the darkness. There is only one explanation for the light. I recommend you read both Orthodoxy and A Hobbit, a Wardrobe, and a Great War if you want to find out what that explanation is 😉
I took the Hobbit, Wardrobe and the Great War out of the library last year but didnt get it finished before it was due. Too many books at once I think! I think you shoukd try Monuments Men. About saving art during WWII. I really liked it and learned a lot about European art and architecture. ReplyCancel
Ethan told me he read this one when he saw me with it… I was impressed! I’ll try Monuments Men as well… I saw a movie about that story so I bet I would enjoy the book too. ReplyCancel
I sit typing these words in a perfectly quiet house; a rare moment indeed. Darren and the kids are off to Maine for the weekend while I spend a couple days at a retreat with friends. I meant to write about something different today. But the quiet has me thinking about an idea that’s been growing in my heart and mind for some time now. The idea that it’s okay to live a quiet life.
Quiet Thoughts in a Loud World
We live in a noisy world — made all the louder by our near constant virtual connection to people everywhere. Earlier this year, I took a month-long break from social media and the difference I observed in myself was intriguing.
Inspiration or Distraction?
So often, my excuse for scrolling through feeds is the belief that looking at other people’s lives is inspiring. And certainly it can be. But what I find in stepping away for a bit is my own creativity and inspiration renewed. In constantly looking at what everyone else is doing, I lose sight of what I’m supposed to be doing myself.
Never Enough
But perhaps the most dangerous thing I observe in myself in relation to social media, is the feeling I almost always walk away with — the feeling of lack. The feeling of needing more. I need to be more, to have more, to do more. Or, cutting to the quick — I am not enough. What I have is not enough. What I do is not enough. I lack something everyone else has.
And when I feel shot through with holes, I’m quick to plug the leaks with more. With More activity, more stuff — more noise.
Slow Down
Here, 1 Thessalonians 4:11 stops me in my hustle with a timely reminder:
Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands. (NLT)
“Make it your goal to live a quiet life.” In a world that glorifies busyness and chaos, we’re challenged to live quietly, to mind our own business and to work with our hands.
One Step at a Time
So how does this translate into real life? For me, it means viewing life seasonally. That is, what I’m asked to do in one season is not the same as another. And I’m not meant to do everything all at once. The world tells me I need to do everything right now or I’ll miss out and get left behind. But that’s simply not true.
Enough for Today
The season I’m in right now is heavy with the responsibilities of home and motherhood; but that won’t always be the case. Someday, there will likely be more margin for more things. But for today, living quietly, minding my own business, and working with willing hands means tending the people and place right under my nose. And that’s enough. It really is okay to live a quiet life.
Thank you, Deb! The more I peel myself away from social media, the more alive I feel. Not that it doesn’t have a time and place, but that place certainly needs to be defined and kept in check.ReplyCancel
As I mentioned in my last post, I’m an unlikely and reluctant homeschooler. But I’m learning to lean into this journey. And one big part of that for me is creating a space my kids and I enjoy being in.
Vintage Vibes
I’ve never been a fan of all the bright, plastic-y things marketed to children. My heart beats vintage vibes and my decorating style is no different. So I wanted our homeschool room to reflect both my own aesthetic and to be a place my children delight in.
There’s and Mine
I made sure to set up an area for each of us to call our own (for my K5’er who’s actually being schooled, for my two-year-old who’s hanging with us while we school, and for myself as the teacher).
Use What You Have
I was able to pull this room together almost entirely using stuff I already own. Since I followed my normal decorating style, it was easy pulling different pieces together from around the house to create one unified space. The only piece of furniture I bought was my son’s desk and chair and a few decorations/organizational items were purchased as well.
Remember What Matters
I made sure to pepper the cork board over my desk with reminders of why we’re doing this and what really matters. On the days when everyone feels like crying and quiting, it helps to look up and reflect for a minute on why we’re here.
SOURCE LIST:
Hobby Lobby:
Chalk Board Calendar
Cork Board
Ephesians 4:2 art
Gather Together art
Letter Board
Treasure Box for rewards
Ikea:
Kids Table and Chairs (we stained dark)
Book ledge (also stained dark)
Metal containers for paint brushes and pens
My desk
Wal-Mart:
Kids Desk and Chair
Cubby storage
Crate and Barrel Kids
Large metal clips
Target:
Paper trays
Home Goods:
Art Caddy
Katie Daisy on Etsy:
Wild and Free art print
Found and Made:
US Map: Vintage National Geographic found at a local book store (for .25!)
The room is lovely. Definitely one I would feel at home in. In fact, it reminds me of the den I’ve created for myself in what was our smallest bedroom. Don’t dismiss all the “bright, plastic-y things marketed to children” though. There are lots of good teaching resources out there that might fall into that category and kids do love bright, colourful things. ReplyCancel
Thank you! And you’re right about the colorful kids stuff. My kids enjoy lots of colorful plastic things and there’s nothing wrong with that 🙂 Should have been clearer. ReplyCancel
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MayaJanuary 1, 2020 - 2:15 am
I just thought the rug from Home Depot, dighy. Kelly LOVES this rug. He is still talking to me about it!
I’ve never wanted to homeschool my kids. I was home schooled myself and really didn’t like it. So I’ve forever been determined to do something different with my own family. But it goes without saying that life doesn’t always go as planned. Without delving into all the ins and out of why we’re homeschooling, suffice it to say we believe this is the next right step for our family this year.
Surprising Peace
I’m as surprised as anyone by how at peace I am with this decision. After spending the last couple years weighing our options and hoping something school-wise would work out, I fully expected to be defeated by the reality of homeschooling. After all, I’m already a full-time stay-at-home mom. I was looking forward to a few hours in the day when my kids could enjoy being with someone else and I could enjoy focusing on other things. But now that we’ve made the final decision to keep our kids home, I’m at peace and dare I say, excited?! I don’t even know who I am anymore haha 😉
No Surprise to God
Over and over again I’ve felt the Lord chipping away at my desire to control everything. It’s not easy having what you think you want taken out of your hands. But I’m finding the Lord is happy to fill empty, open hands with good things. I can see how my heart has been softened and changed in preparation for this journey. And though I never planned on things working out this way, it’s encouraging to know God’s plan never really changed; he knew all along. And I trust he’s been readying my heart and hands all along too.
Leaning In
I have no glowing expectations that this journey will be perfect or easy. I’m sure there will be tears and frustration along the way. But I’m trying to lean in with an open heart to what God has for me in this season. Since this isn’t one of the master plans I cooked up myself, maybe it will turn out to be even better than anything I could create on my own. I’m hopeful.
So, here’s to an unexpected journey and all that lies ahead.
I homeschooled for a couple of years. With my children being almost five years in age difference, it was a challenge. I loved homeschooling my girls, and would have done it longer had I not felt my brain split in two one day. My oldest was learning about the feudal system and we were having a wonderful time when my youngest came up and asked if she had made a cursive G correctly. In hindsight, it was a small matter, but, in that moment I felt my brain split in two and I knew it was the last year I would have my daughters with me. In the time they were home I learned so much about them. I saw what stressed them out scholastically and what made them anxious test wise. This gave me so much insight when they re-entered the educational system. Have fun, enjoy this adventure, it will be one that will give back to you in many unexpected ways.
I didn’t realize you homeschooled. I love your perspective…that even if I don’t always homeschool, this time will still help me get to know my children and their needs better. I like that and I’ll be tucking it away for a day when I feel like quiting. Thank you for the encouragement! <3ReplyCancel
One thing I love about social media is the opportunity to watch and glean from women who are more mature than me in their faith. I’ve learned so much from both older women and women my own age who know and love the Lord well. But on the flip side, one of the things I struggle with the most is feeling a little isolated or left behind in my spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth, I mean my understanding of the Bible and the fruit in my life of living out what I believe.
Sometimes, it looks like everyone else grew up in Sunday School, in happy homes, ever knowing the Bible, the prayers, the liturgies and routines of a perfectly executed faith. Having this firm foundation, they grow into effortlessly godly wives and mothers who know just exactly how to bring up children, run a home, and nurture a healthy marriage all while staying involved in ministry.
A Different Story
This is not a criticism, though I realize it likely sounds like one. Truly, I’m thankful for these women. I’m thankful for the healthy seeds planted and grown in their lives from childhood. I benefit from the wisdom and practical know-how born in their lives out of a godly heritage. After all, I want this very thing for my own children. I hope they are people who grow up in a healthy home with deep spiritual roots from their earliest days.
But what if that isn’t your story? What if, like me, you found yourself a mother with a babe in your arms and not a clue what to do? What if you’re already married before you realize how deeply spiritual and important such a union is? What if you’re trying to grow into a faith that ever feels two sizes too big and just out of reach?
This is where I struggle.
One of These Things Is Not Like the Others
In sixth grade, I found myself transplanted from a small country church to a large church in the heart of the city. Everyone seemed to have it together. Good jobs. Nice cars. Happy families. It was like being a Christian was just second nature; everyone knew what to say and do. Everyone except me. I’d hear a theological term and feel silly for not understanding what was apparently obvious. I’d do something foolish and feel all eyes on me for not already knowing better. I was learning like crazy but never could quite seem to catch up. But by high school, I had grown into this foreign environment. I knew the walk and talk and was very involved at church.
Dark Clouds, Deep Roots
I was content with the state of my faith for years without change. I assumed all was fine and well right up until it wasn’t. You see, eventually I married and had a baby. And babies change everything. For the first time in my life I was really and truly responsible for someone else — and I had no idea what to do. Not just spiritually, but practically as well. How to discipline and instruct a willful, angry toddler? No blessed idea. How to be patient, kind, and self-controlled with little sleep and a crying baby? That’s hard to do if you haven’t already cultivated the fruit of patience, kindness, and self-control in your life. I was up to my neck before I ever realized how desperately I needed to learn how to swim.
Turn Right at the End of the World
So I did what people often do in desperate times. I opened my Bible. For the first time in years, I knew almost every moment of every day how completely I needed God. I was drowning and that open Bible was a life raft. By God’s grace, this time of desperation grew into a time of real growth for me. No longer just learning the lingo and behavior, instead I was learning the heart and mind of God. I already knew how to act like a Christian; now I was learning to be one. I was falling in love with God and his word for the very first time.
One Foot in Front of the Other
These seeds of faith, planted in that dark, desperate soil, broke open and began to put down roots. I’ve been a mother for five years now and added another baby since. And step by step I can see how God’s word has helped me grow into this life of marriage, motherhood, and home-making. But in truth, there is only ever just enough light. I am finding my way one foot in front of the other. As a new parental challenge arises, so do my prayers for help and wisdom. I never go into a moment of motherhood just instinctively knowing how to handle it as some moms seem to.
It’s Okay to Be Different
The Bible exhorts younger women to learn from the older (Titus 2:3-5). And all believers are challenged to spur each other on in truth and love (Heb. 10:24). But the danger of watching and learning from the fruit in someone else’s life is the temptation to compare stories. Does God want me to learn from the girl who’s doing a great job raising her family? Yes. But that doesn’t necessarily mean my story will read like hers.
It’s Okay to Grow Slow
One of the things I’m learning right now is this — it’s okay to grow slow. The growth in my life over the last five years is born out of one seed planted after the other. These seeds, tended and cultivated, burst into new life one season after the other. Do I wish I had planted this spiritual garden many years prior? Definitely. How I wish I had entered marriage and motherhood with roots firmly planted in the soil of God’s Word. How much less heartache there would have been if I had known then what I do now.
But that’s not my story. And I’m learning to be okay with that. I’m learning to keep showing up every day one day at a time. To keep opening God’s Word and offering up my imperfect prayers for hope and help. And one day at a time, I know God is growing the fruit in me he desires.
God’s Promises
It’s true, I don’t feel like I belong with a lot of the moms I see on Instagram. I wish I more instinctively knew what to do in uncertain moments. But I’m thankful for the cloud of witnesses (Heb. 12:1) that I can watch and learn from even in my thirties right here in the middle of marriage and motherhood.
God’s word promises that
He has made everything beautiful in its time.
Ecc. 3:11 (ESV)
And
Behold, I am making all things new.
Rev. 21:5 (ESV)
Keep Your Eyes on the Road
I encourage you, as I’m learning myself, to thank God for the women who go before us setting an example we may follow. But don’t get distracted comparing your story or growth rate to someone else. Don’t believe the lie that you don’t really belong with God’s people if you look or sound different. You may not know or understand what someone else does; that’s okay. Lean into it. Ask for help. Open God’s Word and ask him to show you his heart and mind. Pray and talk with God. Look for a godly mentor to help show you the way.
It’s okay to start right where you are, even if that feels miles behind. It’s okay to grow slow and not know or understand everything today. Go ahead and til the soil, plant the seeds and begin cultivating new life. Those seeds will send roots down and shoots up through the hard ground. And eventually, there will be fruit and a harvest. Start today and don’t be discouraged.
Where to Start
If you’re wondering where to start, I’d encourage you to open and dig into God’s Word. A book that helped me understand how to better study the Bible is “Women of the Word” by Jen Wilkin. Wilkin has an easy, relatable writing style that will help you understand how to study and know God’s Word for yourself.
Also, Sally Clarkson offers lots of encouragement and practical helps. You can find her and links to her many resources at sallyclarkson.com
During my personal quiet time with the Lord this morning God brought the word “Wheat Princess” to my mind. Yeah, that’s what I thought! Kind of a strange thing for God to bring up. But I didn’t question it…..much. I started a Google search and found your blog. I now remember reading one of your posts someone shared on Facebook. Well this piqued my interest and wondered if God had something for me here. You see, during my quiet time earlier, I was on my knees asking God again why I can’t get it together like everyone else. Why do I allow others to define what God wants me to be. So as you have guessed, I was truly blessed to “stumble” across this blog post. It’s honest, real, raw, and needs to be shared.
Thank you so much for sharing this with me, Arlene. Many of the posts I’ve shared on here are things I’ve long struggled with but am afraid to voice because of what people might think. It’s a blessing to me that it was a blessing to you!ReplyCancel
One of my favorite places to spend the day is Old Sturbridge Village. An outdoor living museum, OSV replicates a rural New England community set in the 1830s.
While the history and architecture are interesting enough, what I love most about the village is simply the feeling of peace and calm that comes with stepping away from our busy, loud world into a slower and quieter way of life.
I relish the opportunity to tuck my phone away and walk with eyes up enjoying life as it once was, as I wish it still could be. My kids are free to run without fear of cars or busy streets. They love seeing the animals up close and watching those who work here explain how things are made or used to be done.
You Have Everything You Need
A couple weekends ago we had a perfect 70 something degree day and spent the whole afternoon walking around the village. As we moved through each house and building, I was struck over and over again by how simply people once lived.
I’m not saying life was easy; it looks like a lot of work! But as you walk through the village from the church to the meeting house, past the general store and shoe maker, down to the school, the potter, and on to the farms and farmhouses, you begin to see how these old rural communities had everything needed without needing much at all.
Life then seemed to grow a great deal more around relationships and community and far less around material things. The work that kept people busy was also the work that kept them alive (farming, making your own food right down to bread and butter). The objects filling people’s homes, while perhaps beautiful, were primarily functional. There was so much less “stuff” but seemingly so much more peace and calm in the living.
Stepping back helps me remember that stuff can’t really fix my problems or make me happy as promised. I have everything I need. Oddly, what really makes me happy is stepping away from all the stuff and just enjoying a quieter, slower way of life for a few minutes.
There’s Another Way
I’m reminded too that even though I wasn’t born in this lovely 1800s world, I still have a lot of say over how I choose to live now. If anything, the advancements of today should give me all the more freedom and opportunity to create a good and happy life for myself and my family — but it’s up to me to choose the right things.
I can choose to chase after material things, be ever on my phone looking down or any other vice. Or I can look up and chase after all the good and wholesome things right at my fingertips. No one said I can’t still make my own bread or live with less stuff; that’s entirely up to me — far more now than it ever was to anyone in 1830.
I named this post “Meditations on What Matters” — so what matters?
People and relationships. Community. Contentment. Hard work. Healthy living (working with your hands, growing and making your own food, being physically active). The land and outdoors . . . just to name a few.
I can cultivate each and every one of these things in my own life right where I am. Is is harder in the world we live in now? Yes, in many ways I think so. But ultimately, it’s up to me to choose. So thank you, OSV, for reminding me of what was AND of what still can be. There’s a lot of good out there and I intend to get after it.
FIELD NOTES
Old Sturbridge Village
1 Old Sturbridge Village Road Sturbridge, MA 01566
Regular daytime admission: Adult $28, Children $14, Parking is free.
Visit osv.org to view detailed pricing (memberships, special rates, etc.) and hours.
From the Website:
Old Sturbridge Village, the largest outdoor history museum in the Northeast, depicts a rural New England town of the 1830s. Step inside more than 40 original buildings, and explore homes, meetinghouses, a district school, country store, bank, working farm, three water-powered mills, and trade shops — all situated on more than 200 scenic acres. Talk with authentically costumed historians and see heritage breed farm animals.
I would totally love to live in OSV with you. I have been thinking of what keeps me from being happy with the life I have. The modern life vs the old ways. A pull between two things like you talked about in Tsh’s book post.
I read “Orthodoxy” by GK Chesterton this summer and he talks a lot about paradoxes… about how two seemingly opposing things can be true at once. I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I think I keep waiting for the next thing to solve all the other things. But I’m starting to realize every season of life will be a mixture of happy and hard things… and that’s ok. ReplyCancel
My husband and I love to travel. And though traveling with kids is harder, we’ve tried not to let that stop us. So when my sister-in-law gave me this book, I dug right in and hardly looked up until I had read it cover to cover. I loved it. Here’s why:
Is Traveling With Kids Worth the Trouble?
Bringing kids with you to travel and leaving kids behind is hard. Certainly there are times when I ask myself if it’s even worth the trouble (usually on a plane sandwiched between my offspring turned savages). But when I look back at the memories we made together, I remain convinced traveling as a family or alone as a couple really is worth it.
This is one of the things I loved most about Oxenreider’s book; she’s honest about the struggles of traveling with kids but she also sees the merit in doing it anyway.
She says:
Giving birth to new life doesn’t mean the death of your passport. . . . Ignore the books that tell you travel is the antitheses of family. To me, those two beautiful words go hand in hand. They stand together on a crowded city bus, holding on as the tires bounce over potholes, siblings who have each others’ backs.
If I’ve learned anything about traveling as a family, it’s to have realistic expectations. Will we have wonderful moments together and make life-long memories? Yes, most likely. Will there be tears, frustration, and overwhelm from parents and children alike? Yes, almost certainly. But, am I always glad we chose to adventure together? Absolutely.
The Pull Between Home and Everywhere Else
Oxenreider opens the book with these words which immediately resonated with me:
I liked the idea of home. Things like wall colors and candles mattered to me more than I had guessed, and it felt freeing to admit it. I wanted to sink into the unpredictability of a cross-cultural life, yes, but I also wanted a bona fide home. This was a season of refinement, of acknowledging there were multiple sides to me that were equally true. I was infected with an incurable sense of wanderlust, but I was also a homebody.
I feel this tension within myself — between wanting to travel when I’m home and wanting to come home when I travel. I’ve thought I must just be a very discontent person always looking for the next thing. But Oxenreider speaks into this strain in such an understanding way. She doesn’t see the desire for both home and adventure in conflict with each other but as different sides of the same complicated thing. We aren’t one-dimensional beings so it makes sense to long for more than one thing at a time. This gives me freedom to enjoy both putting down roots in my own corner of the world while also happily planning my next adventure. The two need not be in conflict.
Final Thoughts
This book is an engaging read for anyone. But if you’re pulled between being a “responsible” parent and longing for adventure, definitely read it. Oxenreider’s words will encourage you to both put down roots and to go explore the road ahead. There’s room for both and there’s room for your family to join you on the journey.
Last week, we camped in Vermont as we often do during the summer. Being in that familiar place brought such deep memories and emotions. It’s strange to make memories in a place during a very different stage of life and to return there later feeling like a different person entirely. That’s how this trip was.
Five years ago this summer, I become a mom. This year marks a lot of growth and change for the little boy who made me a mother. And watching him transform leaves me feeling very nostalgic. Wasn’t he just a babe, ever on my hip? My hard one with whom I thought I’d never find my way?
The summer before he was born remains forever etched in my heart and mind. That was the year we bought the 1860s colonial we’ve since remodeled and live in. That summer, we went to Europe for the first time and my life-long dream of seeing Italy became a reality as I walked the streets of Rome, Florence, and Venice. But perhaps the sweetest memory of all is simply the days we spent together camping in Vermont.
We slept in an old tent handed down to us after we married. Our spot was next to the river and I still remember falling asleep to the sound of the water each night. We hiked, biked, swam and spent a whole day floating down the river in tubes.
Though I didn’t realize it then, that summer was filling my reserves for harder days ahead. There is a beginning, middle, and end to every journey. The beginning is usually full of dreaming and excitement. The middle, typically dryer and harder. And the end is hopefully sweet and victorious. That summer, we stood at the beginning of a journey — of leaving behind our days of just us and beginning the days of parenting.
By that fall, our son was on the way and we were excited to be starting a family. The following July, our baby boy was in our arms at last. He came just days before our friends and family headed to Vermont for the annual camping trip. We were bummed to miss out, so just eight days after he was born, we drove to Vermont and spent the day with our friends at the campground. I remember pushing him in the stroller right past the spot by the river where we camped the summer before. We walked the paths we had biked and introduced our brand new baby to one of the places we love most in the world. Though I thought little of it then, already we were making memories as a family in this special place.
The following July, after a hard year of remodeling our home, learning to parent, adjusting to being a stay-at-home mom and lots of other busyness, we decided there was no other place we’d rather celebrate our anniversary than away in the woods of Vermont. Roman, who turned one the same month, got his first taste of tenting.
And like that sweet summer before he was born, we hiked and rode bikes and swam in the river. We snuggled our little guy by the campfire and held him close during the cold nights. Together as a family, we made new memories in this old place we love.
That first year of motherhood was really hard for a lot of reasons. I clearly remember one starry night during that first trip camping as a family. Walking the road at night by myself, I looked up at the stars shining in the velvety dark Vermont sky. And I felt so alive after feeling barely so for months. I remember knowing right then that this was an opportunity to once again fill my tank. I knew I needed to breathe deeply and soak it all in. You can’t stay in that space forever but you can tuck pieces of it away in your heart as a reserve for harder days.
That first trip as a family, like the summer before our son was born, remains an anchor of sweet memories and roots put down together. We’d camp together a couple more times as a family of three before adding our daughter to the gang.
Our daughter, like our son, was born in July so we didn’t camp the summer she was born or the year after. The thought of sleeping in a tent with a then four-year-old and one-year-old didn’t appeal to us lol.
But we couldn’t seem to shake our love of camping even with kids. So this year we bought a fixer-upper camper and ventured up to our spot in Vermont for the first time as a family of four.
Once again, sweet memories of summers past flooded my heart as we walked and biked those familiar paths. We did all the same things we’ve loved for so long — swimming in the river, gathering around the campfire and exploring every old path with new eyes.
We visited the Vermont Country Store and spent the days with cousins and friends.
And at night, when the stars shone clear as they seem to do best in the Vermont sky, I looked up and breathed deeply. I thanked God for the summer before we were parents. For the memories made as a couple that laid a foundation for our future family. I thanked God for our son and the three years we had together just the three of us. And I thanked God for the present — for our daughter and our little family of four.
I’m thankful for the old memories — for the summer before our son was born. But I’m thankful too for the new memories we’re making together. For the opportunity to share the places I love with the people I love and the chance to see every old thing afresh through the eyes of my children.
And I hope someday, when they come upon hard days of their own, that these roots we’ve put down as a family will anchor them to beauty and light. I hope their tanks are full and they have a reserve of sweet memories to draw on. And I hope the smell of pine and campfire draws them right back to a place and time when our family was together enjoying the gift of each other.
FIELD NOTES:
Winhall Brook Campground
919 Winhall Station Rd, South Londonderry, VT. 05155
$20 – $26 a night.
Open between May and October.
Visit recreation.gov and search for “Winhall Brook” for more information or to book a sight.
From the Website:
“Winhall Brook Camping Area is nestled in the Green Mountains of Vermont along Winhall Brook and the West River, seven miles from Ball Mountain Lake. The campground has strong appeal to the outdoorsman at heart, offering hiking, biking and fishing opportunities.
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such a beautiful, beautiful tribute. I once wrote about my hands, and how they have aged. Our hands, as mothers, wives, friends, reach out in love, care and work. You have beautiful hands, as does your Mom. <3 Cathi
<3 <3 <3