August 20, 2011

Peaceful Easy Feeling

For whatever reason, we had to get out today.  Sure it was bedtime, and the kids were whiny from a long day of serious play.  But Joe and I needed to get out and drive.  Even though we just took a road trip.  Even though the price of gas makes it feel like the days of joyrides in the country are far behind us.  Joe knew exactly where he needed to go and the car seats were already in the truck so we loaded up, rolled the windows down, and hit the country road that passes the reservoir and winds up past the mega mansion that overlook the water, to a place where 129 acres of land are for sale and cut through by a dirt road that feels like it's all our own.

When we turned around at the gate to who knows what, we paused and looked out at the view.  The city of Logan all small in front of us.  The bustling lake far out to our right.  Rolling expanses of golden fields to our left.  Heaven all around. 

Joe asked me, "What is it about a view that makes you feel all..."  I think it's the feeling of being removed.  Removed from it all.  Removed feels so nice when you're always in the thick of life.

I would really enjoy being a hermit if I weren't so certain as of late that nothing is virtuous that isn't contributing in someway to society.  The thought had crossed my mind, but then our summer camp studies really confirmed my suspicions.  So my heart says move into the hills and shut out the world, but it also reminds me that there can be no contribution to the world when you're removed from it.  So here we sit before the gate, looking out over the beauty and recharging our sanity for another long stint in the reality of classes and meetings and finding something to smile about when people are complaining to you about situations you only dream of finding yourself in.  Removed, but only for a moment.

I pull out my phone to snap a picture of the serenity of this spot so that next week when there are people to pick up for Ruhi, dinners that get in the oven too late, and a kid who simply likes to hit things - all things - with sticks, I can pull it up and remember this feeling.  As if the image alone can help me conjure my own inner peace that isn't dependent on the view, or on dinner being on time, or the kid putting down the big stick.

Hunter made us well aware that he doesn't see the point in driving to nowhere for no reason.  So as we wound back towards town, we pulled over at a spot that looked promising.  What we found was magic, but the kind that even Hunter would have to appreciate.  A little stretch of waterside all tucked away under a canopy of trees whose roots were covered with ripples of water.  What Hunter called, "Our own private place."  Haven, the boy with the stick, spent his time whacking away at the clay cliffs, making chunks of mud and soft rock crumble down.  Hannah Jane collected treasures.  Hunter tossed rocks into his private lagoon.  Joe and I wrapped our arms around one another and tried to enjoy the peace before us despite Haven's sounds of destruction. 

It was something of a perfectly peaceful evening.  When we arrived home, the kids asked if they could all sleep together in one bed, it being the weekend and all, and I said sure.  They passed out without so much as a peep, which is practically unheard of in this house.  So now I must log off and go enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.

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