Happy Tuesday, Friend!
Now that fall is officially upon us, I know that this isn’t the most popular time of year to go camping. It’s still too hot here in Florida, and perhaps it’s too cold where you are. Maybe I’m completely wrong! This could be primo camping season. I know almost nothing about camping anymore. Oh, but there was a time . . .
I recently talked with a friend about our camping days as kids. It turns out our families both had the same kind of camper. It was akin to something that dropped straight out of heaven and into our yards. Am I talking about one of those enormous houses on wheels? Not at all. I’m talking about . . .
The Starcraft Starmaster. (Or was it a Starflite? I definitely remember it was a star-something.) And, boy howdy, was it fabulous. It was 19 feet, 1,260 pounds of pure recreational vehicle wonderment! It slept six, had the cutest little icebox you ever did see, and soft, comfy beds that magically popped out of the sides of this dream. There was a table to eat at that dropped down to be another bed at night, a closet, and (maybe) even a little cooktop. I’m unsure of that last part because I would not have been doing any cooking. I’d be doing fun kid stuff while my parents did all that necessary-for-life stuff.
One of my favorite things about this marvelous machine was the upholstery fabric. This would have been in the sensational 70s, so a lot of gold would have been involved. Gold and avocado green, a match made in Green Bay Packer-loving heaven. I think there was some orange and brown as well as big flowers as the pattern. Of course, there were big flowers. This was the 70s, man!
Also, one of the rules when lying on the beds on either end of the camper was this: Never, and I mean never, touch the canvas over your head when laying on the beds. It was practically punishable by law. If you did, and I can’t remember if this was a rule at all times, or just when it was raining, blah blah blah about condensation and you’d soon be getting dripped on where you touched the canvas. I can remember laying there on my comfy bed, looking up at that canvas that was just begging me to touch it. I may or may not have done so a time or two. (Do not tell my mom!!)
This camper was my dad’s dream. He loved being outside in nature. He loved his home state of Wisconsin and all of its charms. He loved to fish. He wasn’t a guy who needed anything fancy in life. He was a schoolteacher, and we did most of our camping during the summer months when he was off. My mom was an elementary school secretary, and so she had the same time off, and then there was me . . . a kid . . . we all had the same schedule! My older brother and sister were along for some of these excursions, but they were both off to college while I was still growing up, so most of my camping adventures involved just my parents and me, with an occasional tag-along cousin or friend.
One day, as we were sitting at the little table in our camper (not sure why we were inside and not out), my dad looked around at our sweet little mobile domicile, sighed with contentment, and said, “I wonder what the poor people are doing today.” It was said with tongue in cheek because we were certainly not considered wealthy by any means. (Did I mention my dad was a teacher??) But that little camper was pure gold to my dad, and he felt like a king in his castle when we sat there in our campsite spot at Two Lakes Campground in Drummond, Wisconsin.
One of my jobs in getting ready to go on a camping trip was one that, I thought, carried a lot of weight. After we had the camper all packed up with our needed supplies, and the sides were pushed in and the top cranked down, it was my job to stand next to the camper as my dad backed the car up and direct him. I was to do the “come on back” motion, and then, at just the right time, I was to hold my hand up to the “HALT” position when he got the trailer hitch right under the camper’s trailer coupler. Note: I had to look these terms up, so I didn’t say “connecting thingie part.”
I can’t tell you how important my young self felt when I gave my dad orders! My dad was following my directions, even in something as important as hooking up a camper! I’d get it wrong sometimes, and he’d have to jump back into the car and make an adjustment, but he never scolded me for giving bad directions. He just made it right and got the thing all hooked up. And off we went to Two Lakes!
Getting to give my dad instructions makes me think of something else I do too often, and that’s trying to give my Heavenly Father instructions. I tell you what, when there’s a problem a-brewing, I have lots of ways I think it could get fixed. I have found myself too often talking to God about something and offering Him ways to correct the problem. Good night—like He needs my help! His way of handling a situation might not always (ever?) look like how I would handle it, but I also know that His ways are much better than mine. His way might not always be the easier way, but it will always be the better way. I need to learn to stop giving Him directions. Can someone please hold up the “HALT” sign for me?
The amazing thing is, when I do this, He doesn’t get out of the car and yell at me. He doesn’t punish me for getting it wrong. He simply gets it done His way and makes it right.
I was so blessed to have the earthly father I did. So kind, so gentle. And so darn funny! Oh my gosh, he could make us laugh! And to think my Heavenly Father is all that and more.
I found a sign online that lists “Camping Rules.” They are as follows: nap often, watch the sunset, wake up smiling, sit by the fire, relax and unwind, eat s’mores, make memories, drink a cold one, visit with friends, and be grateful for this day. That sounds like a great list to me. Camping or not.
May your week find you doing a few of the things on that list!
PS – – Next week Kevin and I will be up at our cabin in Wisconsin (solid walls and indoor plumbing for me these days!). I won’t get to write to you next week, but I’ll be back on October 8.
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO