There is a place that holds pieces of me; frozen snapshots
of my former selves lay out along the bank of the Frio River. I think the self
I love returning to most is the seventh grader. The one with the long
mismatched volleyball socks and flip flops crammed between my toes. The one
dragging a blanket across the wet morning grass because she forgot fall could
feel like this and shorts, socks and long sleeves just aren’t enough. She is completely
unprepared but also completely unfazed and living in the moment.
I like the image of that seventh grader because she doesn’t
care. She is all there; laughing and anticipating God will show up. She is
surrounded by people that love her. She has traveled safely through the
winding, hilly roads of the Texas Hill Country. The doors of a van were flung
wide open so she could see and hear the tires splashing through the shallow
river. She descended deep into a valley where there was no hope for cell phone
service- she could only be where she was.
She got off the van wrapped tight in a blanket and she stared at the sky...and she really saw the stars.
I want to live every
day like this. I want to live every day like these beginning moments of my
first Great Fall Retreat. Where there is no expectation, just anticipation. Something inside me says I can…and as my roommate
says, “that’s a start”.
