It was Day 4 or 5, mid afternoon,
Samantha was just finishing a nap and I was preparing to put Annabelle down to
start a nap when I got a call from Chris. He told me to get the girls ready. As
soon as he arrived home, we were going to jump in the Jeep with him and check
out a beach he stumbled across while away running errands. I LOVE IT when he
does this. Usually he is counting on me to make fun plans for the family. I
love it when he surprises me with a cool plan. Annabelle would survive a missed
nap. Early bedtime or something.
THIS is the beach. Driftwood Beach. Have
you heard of it? I never had. I forgot my camera in the excitement of jumping
in the Jeep. We parked, walked down an enchanted, narrow path through the woods
and stepping out into this scene, my jaw dropped. I was in awe. I'd never seen
anything like this before. I asked Chris for the keys and I raced back to the
campground to get my camera. My mind was already forming this blog post for
you.
THIS is what happens when the wind and
water are stronger than our roots.
It's beautiful in a way.
And this? Seriously? It looks like a
giant sci-fi spider.
This next one... See it? A torn heart?
Here... I'll draw the top back in for
you...
These giant, majestic trees...
There will ALWAYS be something more
giant, more majestic.
Extra strong, this one. But his time will
come.
I've been discussing the subject of
roots and change on this blog for years. What an amazing visual to illustrate
this topic.
At 4 years old, my roots were deeply
dependent on that green house on Cherokee Lane. (read: April 3rd Post for that story.)
Yet 36 years of moving led me to write a post in 2014 about planting my roots
in a different Source. (see post: October 2, 2014) Little did I know
that 12 days later my husband would arrive home early from work to carefully
deliver the news that my Dad had shot himself. Suicide is an event of high
winds far stronger than any relocation from one house to another.
I am still on a journey of transplanting
roots of my heart from the shakable to the unshakable. Just because I'm RVing,
doesn't mean I have this root thing all figured out.
Lately I've been
asking myself the following question: What does that ancient text mean when it
says,
"Do not
store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and
where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in
heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in
or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
How, exactly, do
I store my treasure in heaven? When I kiss my daughter goodnight, is that
action kept, for safekeeping, in heaven? I can't capture every precious,
glittering moment on camera, and even if I could, moth and rust will eventually
destroy it, even if I store photo albums carefully for 150 years of grandchildren. Are
all these beautiful moments being saved in heaven somewhere for my later
enjoyment? Am I storing up treasure in heaven when I wash dishes? Or give a
homeless man a bag of groceries? Is it only certain actions that get put into
heavenly storage or is it the Spirit in which we do it? Another text says,
"if I give
all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned,
but do not have love, it profits me nothing."
Those are the
questions I'm asking myself as I soak up each sparkling, temporary moment with
my family this Spring and Summer. I take incredible, unspeakable joy from my
small family and yet, God and I have had our moments alone. He and I know that
He is enough for me. He knows He is the only One who fills my heart with the
best and most Ultimate Joy which never disappoints. Yes. I have felt that
sentiment. It is real. In my darkest moments and in my highest moments.
Sometimes I loose touch with this Truth, but it's always there when I remember and
reach for it again.
(Oh Jesus, please
don't test me again on this commitment now that I've said this in front of all
these people.)
Fear or no fear, it needs to be said. He is my first Love. My
heart longs to be with Him. It always has. From the very first moment I learned
of Him. My passion only increases the older I get. Ever heard the words to that
song on the radio?.... "everybody want to go to heaven, nobody wanna go
now."
That's me. I'm longing to go... just not
quite ready yet.
