Heartwood

Heartwood

This is where me and my family spent this past weekend.

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This is where we slept.

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This was the Ladies Powder Room 🙂

It was a little chilly and a little rainy and I had a blast! I had not been camping in many many years. So I was a little rusty at it. It all started coming back to me and I remembered why I loved camping so much. I love the quiet. I love the campfire. I love the woods. I love the fresh air. Food is always better cooked outside. I love the night – especially the chill in the air. I love knowing I’m just about as close to God as I can get, up in the mountains, out in the woods.

When we got back on Sunday night, when I checked my FaceBook page, a friend had posted a picture of a beautiful black bear her husband had killed with his bow and arrow while they were on vacation in Canada. It absolutely broke my heart. I wanted to comment back to her so bad…”why did he do that? Was he being attacked?” But I know he wasn’t being attacked, I know he went there to hunt. I’m trying so hard not to judge, but just can’t wrap my mind around someone finding pleasure in being responsible for cutting short the life of such a beautiful soul.

I pray I never lose sight of the beauty of all God’s creatures. The beauty of nature is so abundant. But it’s so sad when I find more love in the face of a caterpillar than in my fellow man. Or feel closer to God while watching a river roar or the leaves fall than I do when I’m in the presence of God’s people.

Makes me want to just gather up my family and disappear into the woods.

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I came back changed and more in love with life than ever before.

I can’t wait to go back.

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One thought on “Heartwood

  1. I’m not a fan of camping. Too many nights spent cold and water logged on rainy outings, listening to what my wild imagination thinks are bears prowling around outside my flimsy tent looking for a tasty snack.

    I’m glad you had such a wonderful experience! God truly has created a wonderful world.

    I too have an abhorrence for hunting. My father hunts, my best friend hunts. I know that the chicken I eat has died for me. It’s not something I can control, so I let it wash over me as best I can and love the person, not the deed.

    The Inuit believe all things have a soul and that the animals they hunt for their survival, willingly give themselves up to the hunters. They respect the animals deeply and have been known to say that they survive on the souls of animals.

    I do hope you get to go back and revel in the glory of God again very soon!

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