Because No One Can Put Words On It --Inktober 22 #camp

The first time I went backpacking with my husband, I thought I was going to die.  We had been camping many times before, but in campgrounds with bathrooms, and within steps of our car.  But this was different.  We hiked about three miles down a trail in the national park to a tranquil grassy campsite near a babbling brook, and set up Bill's little two-person backpacking tent.  He promptly caught and released a gorgeous brook trout. So far, magnificent.

We ate dehydrated, pre-packaged soup for supper, not so great, but a tolerable part of roughing it. As the evening became chilly, we crawled into our tent.  The sounds of the forest surrounded us like a symphony.  My husband was asleep in about 30 seconds.  I lay there in my sleeping bag, thinking about what I heard and trying not to think about what I thought I heard.  Bill slumbered on.  The sound of tree frogs was comforting to me.  I figured if there were any carnivores out there, they would go after the frogs.  And then there was silence.

I turned one way and then another, scooching as close as I could to my sleeping husband. I prayed, O Lord, have mercy. I reminded myself that Bill had been backpacking since he was five or six years old and had never been eaten by a bear. I lay awake, my imagination on steroids, until suddenly, I woke up, and it was morning.  I was alive.  And I could smell coffee.

We have camped many times since that inaugural event.   A few inconveniences endured, even hail at one point, but not missing anything at all.  In the woods, mountains, and time just being together, we have discovered treasure.  In our culture, we have insulated ourselves not just from the uncomfortable, but from creation, living as if God is not even around.  Camping unveils the majesty of this world which we so routinely ignore. And reveals the astonishing beauty God has woven into our lives.  

When we camp, life is different.  We carry only what we need, leaving behind unnecessary baggage, rejoicing in the simplicity, and awed by the sky.  And grasping that one of the requirements of camping is to waste time just sitting and soaking in the wonder.

 

 

The word camp is a Biblical one, appearing some 214 times, mostly in the Old Testament.  The Hebrew word means to park.  And that is what we do, for a night or an appointed time on this sacred ground.

In the process, we have learned the intricacies of God's ordered world, to be watchful for the unexpected, to trust Him even more, and to breathe in the beauty God has made.  Indeed, the awe we feel is just a call to worship.

...at the works of Your hands, I sing for joy.  Psalm 92.4

We end the day in beauty just as it began. His glory and faithfulness brilliantly cover all the earth. Our vocabulary is simply not big enough for it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the beauty of the earth,
for the glory of the skies,
for the love which from our birth
over and around us lies;
Lord of all, to thee we raise
this our hymn of grateful praise.

For the beauty of each hour
of the day and of the night,
hill and vale, and tree and flower,
sun and moon, and stars of light;
Lord of all, to thee we raise
this our hymn of grateful praise.