There is nothing like camping in the spring. Seems like we usually end up camping in the fall and winter, who knows why. This year, instead of Pigeon Forge (please don't hate me for not liking it) we went to Hiawassee. The traffic and mayhem in PF surely make those gorgeous mountains in the distance cry. When we are stuck, with thousands of cars all around, I look to the hills and wonder what they must be like. and what it would feel like to breathe in some fresh air. But in Hiawassee, the crystal clear sky and mountain views are in and through everywhere we are. The lakes, creeks, old farmhouses...they all beckon in their ancient stillness. No matter what place you are on earth, where there is nature close by, it is good for the body and the soul.
Children who are raised with lots of outdoor time, less screens, no phones -- are the blessed ones these days. We had a week with a clutch of such kids. They speak to adults, laugh and play, and are content with what they're given. All week, they made great fun out of the old-timey things: swings, slides, bikes, putt-putt and that original invention - other kids. It was refreshing. We had campfires every night with Smores and plenty of smoke, including some fine cigars. Stories were told, laughing and seriousness were had, and all agreed that this was the best time ever.
The last day of our trip, we headed up to a place called Bell Mountain. I kept thinking someone was mistaking "Bell" for "Bald" -- and in my ignorance thought we were driving to Brasstown Bald, the highest point in Georgia. Ken loves to torture me with views of very high places in our truck. He seems to veer closely to edges and takes great glee in whipping around corners of mountains. All for the purpose of me protesting and freaking like a little girl. On this particular drive, I refused to look out the windows until we got to the destination. Then I broke my rule as we were basically riding on two wheels around a curve. There, spread out in panoramic vision, was a whole valley of mountains (if that makes sense)...the sky was azure blue, with wisps of clouds. I gasped and might have accidentally cussed. I don't know if it was the beauty or the danger that overtook me. Cussing might be a sin, well, of course it is. Ken never, ever does it and I am grateful for that. I, however, have been known to sin, when the world is about to end or I am severely shocked. Or kids have hidden a stinking mountain of clothes under their beds. These are just some of the reasons I need Jesus.
When we got to the top, there was a parking lot, a mile of stairs and lots of rocks with graffiti everywhere. We hauled ourselves to the top, some of the grands clinging to us, dizzy in the thin air and slightly carsick. It was magnificent. We were overwhelmed with the wonder, marveling that we'd never seen such. Thank you, Aunt Melissa and Uncle Jeff, for telling us about it. Overwhelming is the glory of God's creation.
This morning, I am sad. We are packing up, about to pull the camper back to Villa Rica. There's much to do when we get back, which makes it extra sad. My calendar is already overfull for the rest of the week. I don't want to leave. Can't we wait until the trees are completely unfurled? It will be difficult to get up in the mornings, knowing that there are no grandkids waiting to throw themselves into my arms or ask for gum. Ken goes back to work in the morning and I start hitting appointments. There is quiet. There is work. There are cats (I wish I could take them camping) and plants to water and feed.
Thank you, God, for the means to do all these things and the joy of living.
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