“If I had a song
I’d sing it in the morning
I’d sing it in the evening
all over this land…”

I’ve firmly decided.

I’ve been singing the wrong song, and God gave me the wrong kids.

I know – God doesn’t make mistakes and since it is His song I sing, I guess that can’t be wrong either.  Even when I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open to say my final night prayers, I hear mom and dad laughing over my whining-praying-for-my-kids- mode.  Clearly – I hear mom’s laughter the loudest.  Maybe this is because when she was on a roll, her laugh could cross a room and find my ears no matter how crowded it was. But it is, most likely, because during her last years of life, she would laugh (over my whining complaints), “Oh you totally are getting what you deserve.” I knew she was loving that moment —- ALOT!

I think I usually stomped out of her house, went home and took it out on hubby.

“We will not conceal them from their children, But tell to the generation to come the praises of the LORD, And His strength and His wondrous works that He has done.” Ps 78:4

My youngest “child” (and I do use that term lightly since she is in her 30’s) is getting ready to wind her way east as she heads to graduate school at Columbia in NYC.  She will be camping for the next month with her dog and spouse  – in a tent – “all over this land”.

Seriously?  A month in a tent? Can you see me rolling my eyes?

While on the other hand, my eldest “child” is wrapping up a similar camping trip in a camper with his spouse and four teenagers.  Being the elder, he has up-graded from the tent phase.  But still – 4 teenagers?  Oh my – how can they do this to their mother?

“I’d sing out danger.
I’d sing out a warning.”

As I rest in my Father’s tent, he brings forth that buried memory of one of my own

summer 1972a

c. summer 1972

camping trips.  Ah yes – there was more than one journey –  a tent – in parks even less developed than they are now – sleeping under the stars with no ambient lighting – anywhere near us – seeing and trying to comprehend things I had never seen before.  I was even younger and probably – (nah – forget the ‘probably’ – insert: ‘assuredly’) much more foolish.  Those youthful years brought the same rock to my stomach that I feel today. Reminiscent times. A time spent still mourning the loss of my earthly father’s tent and trying to find my heavenly Father’s tent…

“I’d sing out love between
my brothers and my sisters,
all over this land”

Journeys take many steps – a week full  – a month full – sometimes – years and years of steps. They take many different shapes and forms as we journey into ivory towers, primeval forests, beyond-belief-canyons, endless starry nights, dilapidated neighborhoods, overly bright sunny days, while we live in tents of differing shapes, textures and dimensions.

“The LORD appeared again to Abraham near the oak grove belonging to Mamre. One day Abraham was sitting at the entrance to his tent during the hottest part of the day. 2He looked up and noticed three men standing nearby. When he saw them, he ran to meet them and welcomed them, bowing low to the ground.” Gen 18:1-2

The important thing is to keep making the journey.  Like Abraham, who opened his tent in all directions looking for visitors on a hot day – even the hottest day of the year – the journey becomes a life event that changes us and the world we touch.  Abraham became the father of a nation as he spread his knowledge, wisdom and faith in His Father. As we venture out – open our tent flaps – we are not only learning – we are blessing the world with who we have become.

I may not like being away from home much these days or into camping (tent or otherwise) for any length of time, but I am still opening my tent flaps and waiting to entertain the strangers when they approach my tent flaps.  It is my journey and – – – I guess God was right all a long.  The song I’ve been singing and the “crazy kids” He attached to my life are exactly the right ones for me.  Sometimes God just needs a hammer to get it through my thick head.




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