Happy Camper? Not!
Could someone please explain to me the philosophy of camping? And don't
give me that "enjoying nature" malarkey because I can give you heat,
sweat and bugs right back. I think I could win the argument without even
resorting to the bathroom issue.
My family and I have a nice home. We pay money for this nice home, and
then we pay more to fill it with every convenience. Camping, as I see it,
is leaving this nice home (while still paying for it) and leaving all my
conveniences, to go to a place that has ZERO conveniences. Then you pay
the campground for the lack of conveniences. Does this make sense to
Awhile back, I reluctantly agreed to go camping with my family. I can't
over-emphasize the word "reluctantly." You can still see the fingernail
marks from my house (with all the conveniences) to the hot, bug-infested
We happened to be there on the hottest weekend of the
millennium--somewhere around 147 degrees. My five children, my husband
and I squished our sweaty bodies into the three-man tent. Did I mention
the 147-degree-temperature? How about the dog-sized mosquitoes that
threatened to carry off my children? Did I mention those? We had to
slather ourselves with some sort of cancer-causing dog-mosquito repellent.
My husband, ever the fun adventurer, suggested that we sit in a circle
(all slathered and sweating) and tell our favorite Bible story. When it
was my turn, all I could think of was the children of Israel wandering in
the wilderness, camping in tents for forty years. It was stern PUNISHMENT
for their sinful rebellion toward God. My husband and children were all,
of course, deeply moved by my heart-felt sharing.
As I lay there trying not to think about bugs, snakes and assorted
disgusting and/or frightening critters, I do remember clicking my heels
together with a "There's no place like home." But when I opened my eyes,
I was still there--slathered and sweating.
Richie, being the sweet and merciful husband that he is, suspended my
sentence...I mean...shortened the trip. We left the next morning before I
had time to complain about more than fifty or sixty inconveniences.
On the way home (to all our wonderful and even more deeply appreciated
conveniences), he stopped at the mall. The mall is sort of Richie's
"camping." I think he would rather have a root canal than take a trip to
the mall. But he suffered the mall because I had suffered the wilderness.
I had to stop myself just short of kissing the wonderfully varnished wood
floor of the luxuriously air-conditioned, bug-free facility. I was in my
element, safe and far away from that campground purgatory place.
Psalm 9:9-10 tells us that the Lord is "a refuge in times of trouble." He
is our refuge, our "mall," if you will, when we've been camping. "And
those who know Your name will put their trust in You."
I praise God that I know His Name and that I can trust in Him so
completely. I'm also praising God that heaven is obviously indoors. I'm
clinging to scriptures that mention mansions and dwelling places, yes,
but mostly I know it must be true because we're promised that there will
be no tears in heaven. Surely no sweating and/or slathering.
[ by Rhonda Rhea (email@example.com), Rhonda's site: www.rhondarhea.net -- from 'Daily Wisdom' ]
All Rights Reserved.