Just a quick note. Once again LuLu and I are separated. My family and I are on a retreat at our Christian camp. Fall Hall Glen in Black River Falls, WI is a gorgeous spot on the earth that covers about 400 acres, a creek and two water falls. The cabins are rustic (by rustic I mean, mice and bats are the natives and campers in flip flops and t-shirts are the interlopers), the pines are majestic and the sound of the rushing creek is a little slice of heaven as far as I'm concerned. I wanted to bring LuLu with me, but alas, I own no bike rack. It's a bling thing I haven't purchased yet for my pink fendered beauty. And, I couldn't fit her inside the van because it was stuffed full of the essentials needed to survive four days and nights in the wilderness. Bug spray, sun screen, sleeping bag, pillow, towels, hat (I never wear a hat at home but for some reason I think at camp it is one of those can't- do-without-items), blanket, sheets, all sorts of creams, make up, bottled water, creek shoes and other assorted necessary shoes, after all, one can't wear the same shoe to play volleyball in and to the evening devotional now can one? And well the list goes on. Hence, no room for LuLu.
What I've discovered on our little jaunts into the woods, is that apparently, I'm a high maintenance woman. I love roughing it, if I get to bring all the things with me that makes roughing not so, well, rough. I wished I could tell you that I'm a regular Grizzly Adams type and that I like eating bugs off trees and rubbing pine sap on my face as sun screen. But I don't. Spiders make the hair on my neck stand up, and mosquitoes, as far as I'm concerned, are from the devil. And, those little tiny flies that bite you through your clothing are the direct spawn of Satan himself. So, why do I find myself year after year loading up the car and heading out to Fall Hall Glen?
Because, no where on this planet do I feel as at peace as I do here, even though I'm sleeping in the most ridiculous bunk bed with springs missing and every time I roll over it barks. Truly it does. My bed barks. The metal it's made of was forged during the first week of the industrial revolution and it simply does not like human contact. Yet, I'm in my bliss the minute my sandals hit the sandy top of the hill of this God-kissed place.
We're here just one more night. Our cabin is full of precious ones. This year our five granddaughters slept in the bunks just an arms length away. A son and daughter-in-law slept on their own barking beds and also made our cabin with the name of Merry Breezes holy ground. If I can't ride LuLu, then sharing a little cabin in the woods with such dear ones is the next best thing. God is good.