consumed

I was to have taken the kids to West Virginia this weekend for a colorful campastravaganza. The leaves were to have peaked at our favorite river site, and we've been looking forward to it for a while. Allison was in California, so there was no chance of rain. In the midst of the normal overloaded stresses of the week, I worked hard to get the truck back together so that it had a better-than-normal chance at surviving the trip and actually getting us to our destination. Allison packed the kids' bags before she left so that I wouldn't have to worry about it at the last minute.
As the week wore on, I became more deeply exhausted and needed this getaway worse than ever. The irony is that one can get so stressed and tired that he hasn't the energy to get away. Add more stress by wanting what you're afraid you can't do, and for promises made to the little ones, who aren't tired at all.
That is where I found myself physically and emotionally on Friday evening when the time had come to push off. When I got home from work on Friday evening, I realized that I could not drive 7 hours for any amount of release. So I decided to leave in the middle of the night after a few hours' sleep and arrive late morning to enjoy the rest of the day. I called mom and dad to tell them what I was going to do, and by the end of the conversation, I'd called the whole thing off. Mom helped me to realize that I was more exhausted than even I knew (not just physically), and she told me that despite the fact that Allison wasn't going, it was supposed to rain all weekend with frigid temps.
Decision made, I began to worry about breaking the news to the kids. I realized that wasn't quite enough to worry about, so I thought of 16 more things that needed worrisome consideration and built a fire on the deck and settled back to tackle it all.
Now those 4 hours from 6 to 10 on Friday night contained a whole lot more than this blog can express. It was a very tough evening. Granted, a cancelled trip shouldn't mess someone up so badly, but it was bigger than that.
I leaned back by the fire and stared up at the expanse - clear, deep, black – and my mind began to clear. Just a little, but it was enough. I groaned out what I couldn't get words around and trusted that they were translated.
Next morning I temporarily devastated the kids with the news. When they settled a bit, I told them I had several alternative ideas for our weekend, but I was sure they would all pale to the original plan. To my surprise, the kids embraced the ideas, and we headed to Congaree Swamp for a day of hiking and exploring. Sunday morning we headed to North Carolina to explore Chimney Rock. We hiked all day again, were blown away with breath-taking views, checked out locations from Last of the Mohicans, stood atop an outlandishly high waterfall, and wore Molly to tears from exhausted sore legs.
We capped the weekend off with ice cream cones at the foot of the mountain, and a long sleepy ride home. The kids told me they'd had an amazing day. As I drove back, my legs throbbed from two days of walking up and down. What a great feeling, physical exhaustion from exertion.
Today, slightly renewed, I realized what I'd done all weekend. I've been a consumer, rather than being consumed. That's not what I want to be all the time, but it's exactly what I needed this weekend. It was the answer to my groans on Friday night. I consumed my children's joy and energy. I consumed creation – tiny lizards, huge cypress trees, fading chlorophyll, granite monoliths, fresh mountain air, glorious waterfalls.
No, I didn't produce much this weekend. I didn't contribute much beyond kid time, in fact, I used them. Thus the photos for blogs. There are more coming. I can share what I received, but mainly I just looked and listened.