Please pray for a miracle of healing for our friend, Chris Decker. Father of six adorable children. I grew up with Chris’ wife, Nancy. For years our families camped every summer at the same mountain lake.

By God’s grace both Nancy and I ended up with handsome husbands and half a dozen kids each, plus one more for me. Thirteen children between the two of us. Today I stood with Nancy in Chris’ hospital room. Last Thursday Chris suffered a terrible heart attack. He’s in a deep coma now. “God has work to do.” Nancy said this afternoon and I quietly nodded, trying not to cry.

I really don’t know what God is doing here. The older I get, the less I know. The less I assume. The less I say. And the more I pray.

God has work to do.

It sounds so humble. So simple. So profound.

Isn’t this true for all of us? God has work to do.

The 4th of July is days away. This is the week Nancy’s family and ours would all go camping, we’d swim in our snow-fed lake, roast marshmallows in our meadow campfires. When Nancy and I were little we played with dolls in the meadow. As teenagers we played volleyball in the meadow. As moms of little ones we pushed baby joggers in the meadow.

I don’t know about Nancy, but our family has been too busy to spend much time at our cabin these last few years. In 2015, we skipped the 4th of July at the cabin altogether. Partly because Anna wouldn’t be there, and that would be so painful for our family, and partly because we’re working so hard harvesting our fruit now. The year before last we spent one night at the cabin for the 4th of July, and then made a mad dash back to our fruit business.

Camping at the cabin takes precious time. We’ve been so busy making a living. Affording a life. Who has precious time to camp at the cabin these days?

But how much does life really cost to live?

Let’s think about this… How much money do we really need to live?

If you are living a balanced life, not working too hard, this blog post isn’t for you.

But here’s my confession. Our family is out of balance. We’re working too hard. On Sunday, I sat in a meeting with a circle of ladies from a sweet church group planning their summer ladies’ retreat. The dear ladies invited me to the meeting because they’ve asked me to be their speaker in July. The theme of their retreat: A Friend Loves At All Times. 

I’ve been praying about what I will say at this retreat about friendship. As I sat there with the ladies, I began to cry. “I want to speak about being a friend to God, but I haven’t been a good friend to Him lately. I’ve been too busy to be a good friend to God,” I confessed. “I read or listen to the Bible every day. I do my devotions, but I’ve been doing this out of duty. I fit time with God into my busy life out of duty. I’m not doing it out of love. I know I’m working too hard these days. Between writing and farming and keeping a household, I’m working too hard.”

Are you too busy to be a friend to God? Too busy to be a friend to your spouse? Your children? Your cabin because you’re working too hard?

Are you too busy to take your kids camping?

Be honest. Are you too busy making a living to really make a life? A marshmallow s’mores smeared on your face life?

Please make a life, my friend. I may not be talking to you, but if I’m talking to you, please listen to me. Make a life before it’s too late. A real marshmallow s’mores smeared on your face life.

Our oldest son just graduated high school. “Will you go to the cabin with us?” I asked him yesterday. “We can only go for a night or two because we’re so busy. Will you go with us for a night or two?”

“I don’t know,” said our 18 year old son. “I have a life.” Meaning he has a life with his friends now. Luke doesn’t know if he wants to camp with us anymore. The past several years we’ve hardly camped at all and now our oldest son isn’t sure he wants to camp with us any longer.

Your kids will grow up. They may even outgrow you. Camp with them now. Make a little less money and make a little more time for your children. Time runs out for all kinds of reasons. Our friend Billy died of cancer in the prime of his life leaving behind a family of half-grown kids. “I just want to go to my cabin one more time,” he told me in our last phone conversation a few weeks ago.

Go to your cabin, my friend.

Fish for trout in a lake that looks like a mirror. Look at yourself in the lake mirror and be honest. What’s really more important? A bigger paycheck or a bigger smile on your child’s face when he lands that rainbow trout?

Fry that rainbow up for dinner. Eat your trout off a paper plate under whispering pines. Wear a sweatshirt because when the sun goes down at the cabin it gets a little chilly.

Carve your kids up a willow stick to cook a hot dog or marshmallows over an open fire.

Teach your kids how to build a fire for themselves. Or catch a chipmunk. When I was a kid we loved catching chipmunks in my dad’s homemade chipmunk trap. It didn’t hurt the chipmunk and when you let the little critter loose you had to be careful. It might run up your leg on the way out of the trap. It happened one day. You should see a bunch of kids scatter and scream when a chipmunk runs up one kid’s leg and jumps onto another kid’s back. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve laughed until I fell on the ground crying with laughter because a chipmunk jumped on a kid’s back and we all lost our minds.

Now a days kids probably aren’t allowed to catch chipmunks. You could catch the plague or something. But we never caught the plague. Maybe because we bathed in the lake after catching chipmunks.

I shaved my legs on a stump at the edge of the water when I was 16 because every teenage girl needs smooth legs at the lake when she’s camping. Boys are at the lake and not all of these boys are your brothers.

You need to walk down to the dock to watch the sunset. Or the sunrise. I’ve sat on this dock at sunrise with my Bible thanking God for this lake. Thanking God for my family. Thanking God for his love.

And at the cabin we drink grainy coffee Oma makes in the morning. We sit by Opa’s warm fire. Morning and night Opa makes a fire at the cabin. We tell a yarn or two at night. That’s what they used to call stories. Yarns. You spin a yarn. A good one by the fire.

I still remember the yarn about Varney the cowboy my grandma liked to tell at the cabin. Grandma Helen learned the Varney tale in Montana before she sold her horse and bought a train ticket to California where she met my Grandpa John working in a gold mine. Grandma got a job cooking in the goldmine’s kitchen and later, much later, they built this little cabin at the lake the year I was born. Our cabin is nearly 50 years old. Nearly 50 years of marshmallows on kids’ faces.

I remember Grandma telling the Varney story more than 40 years ago. I need to tell this Varney story to my kids. At the cabin. By the fire. Before it’s too late. Before the kids get too big to care about cowboy stories.

Now go and camp with your kids before it’s too late.

And please pray for a miracle for Chris. How I’d love to see Chris and Nancy and the kids at the cabin next year. Here’s a photo of the Decker family before their last baby was born three years ago. Thanks so much for praying for our precious friends and their beautiful kids.

 

Thank you, Jenna Cosca for the lovely picture of the lake and the mountains featured on this blog. Can’t wait to see you at the cabin.