19 Hours

Hi Joe:

I went to Shoe and Stocking Friday night. My first solo camping trip ever. I guess it wasn’t really solo, since Bella was there. I also invited Jesus.

We got there around 7pm, and our favorite spots were already taken. So I pulled into a site where we’d never camped before. Feeling awkward around myself, I set up camp – what little set up there was, since we would be sleeping in the car. After exploring a bit (someone had made a homemade potty!), I ate a Chicken Marsala dinner with banana cake left over from work and sat there awhile as the sun set. The evening was windy and cool enough for sweatpants, and the moon was full and bright. I was quick to tell you when I saw the first star in the sky – I was always the first to see it, wasn’t I? And then I cried.

The night was pretty uneventful, and our blanket/sleeping bag mound in the car was quite comfortable. All was going well until I accidentally hit something and the car alarm started blaring at 5:30am. Time to get up! Luckily, it shut itself off a minute or so after waking up every man, woman and child in the vicinity. So much for the peace and quiet of camping!

We started hiking around 9am. On my way to the trailhead of the last hike we ever did together, I walked through one of our old campsites, the one where we had our bikes. My throat tightened, and I could barely breathe as the memories of our camping days played in my mind. I continued to the trailhead, sobbing and gasping for breath. Everything I saw reminded me of us, of you, of your not being there. The fallen tree we had to climb over was still there, and I think I found the stump you sat on 5 and ½ weeks before you died. The hike was unchanged, but everything was different. The movie of us kept playing over and over in my head – a movie I could keep hitting the pause and back buttons, but I could never again push play or fast forward. I was losing you all over again.

After that hike, Bella and I walked a couple of hours on the road where we’d driven past the old homestead. It was a hike you and I had never done, and I kinda liked it. I had planned to do our all-time favorite hike along Shoe and Stocking Creek - the one where we saw the elk and the turkeys and the coyotes playing in the field while we ate lunch. But I couldn’t. Maybe when I get to Heaven, we can do that one together.

One of my favorite things about camping was our après hike routine of taking our stinky boots off and remarking to each other how bad they smelled, lounging in our chairs with a cold beverage, talking about nothing in particular or not talking at all. Doing nothing with you was about as perfect as it got. Now, with my hiking done for the day, the empty silence was just plain empty. So I started this letter and hoped that somewhere you were thinking of me too.

In the middle of writing, I suddenly had the urge to pack up and go home. I had wanted to stay for two days, but the draw to leave was irresistible. Like I mentioned before, Jesus had come too. I’ve found that when I ask Him to join me, He’s always there in His own special way. I thought His being there would save me from being so desperately sad. It didn’t. I told Him my heart was too full of you, but He said my heart was big enough for both you and Him. I’m convinced He’s the One that told me to go home. He is all about mercy, you know. So 19 hours into my first solo camping trip, Jesus, Bella and I were homeward bound. Because we all know there’s no place like home.

“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” -- 1 Peter 5:10 (ESV)