On Palm Sunday weekend we went camping at Lake Livingston State Park, along with our friends the Kirks and the Oosterhuises. As with all good camping trips, we had some adventure. We arrived Friday early evening and found our sites (with room for tents and well as existing shelters, sort of modified cabins) right on the lake. It was a gorgeous afternoon—not a cloud in the sky. The sunshine was great and there was just enough of a cool breeze. We enjoyed being with our friends, and Elisabeth enjoyed being with her friends, Ricky (3 ½) and Douwe (2 ½). Jennifer and John worked together to get our tents up, but the Oosterhuises had already put up their super duper Dutch tent that could withstand gale force winds on the top of a mountain. It was like a house. I didn’t really think the value of their tent would be shown on this trip. By 7:30 Elisabeth was getting so tired that she just burst into tears about nothing much, so I asked her, “Are you ready for bed?” “Yes!” she said, in a pleading, tearful voice. What a dream. I could hardly believe it. So I got her ready in the tent, thankful that she wasn’t potty trained so I didn’t have to walk her down to the bathroom, nor did she need a sink to brush her teeth—we just did it right there. As I was finishing singing to her, she was saying, “Mommy, go out of tent! Mommy, leave.” She was excited about sleeping in the tent! I quickly set up our sleeping bags and arranged our duffle bags and got out before the magic wore off.
We adults enjoyed some smores and talking and were thinking of cleaning up and going to bed, when suddenly the clouds we had been watching gently roll in were right above us, and the wind was gusting fiercely. We ran around gathering up books, lanterns, flashlights. My arms were full when I heard someone shouting, “Look at your tent!” I thought for sure it was the Oosterhuises tent—it was so big I was sure the wind would catch it. Little did I know! It was our tent—on its side, with Elisabeth in it. I started walking, then running to the tent as it blew more and more to the side. The wind was so loud, it wasn’t until I got right to the tent that I could hear Elisabeth crying. I dropped everything I was carrying as the desire took over to save my daughter from what I was sure was certain death or at least being very scared and hating camping for the rest of her life. I grabbed the side of the tent and tried to open the zipper, but the tent was blowing so hard that I couldn’t get it open. After what seemed like 20 minutes but was really 20 seconds, John Walter and John were helping me with the tent. Poor Elisabeth was crying, “Mommy, Mommy,” and my heart was breaking. John got her out, but I wanted to hold her and take her, so I grabbed her as she said, “Go in the car! Go in the car! Go home!” I ran her to the shelter, wondering why we had these beautiful sites on the lake where it was so terribly windy. Meanwhile the Kirks tent was flattened, with Ricky inside. The guys worked on bringing in the tents and all our gear. Jennifer and I sat in the windy, noisy shelter singing to our children, while Ellen was in her Dutch tent dry and safe. The noise had woken up her kids, though, so she had her share of work to do too. It is easy in moments like these to second guess all kinds of decisions—why are we here? Have we traumatized our children? Can we find a new site? Should we go home? We kept thinking the storm would pass, as we watched the thunder and lightening from our shelter, but after about 30 minutes we realized that the rain was gone, but the wind was here to stay for the night. So we kept singing and thinking about what to do next. At least we had a dry and stable place to stay! I enjoyed singing a Michael Card song to Elisabeth and Ricky about how Jesus slept in the boat during a storm. “Sweet Jesus, you slept through the storm in the bow. Through lightening and thunder you slumbered but how? You totally trusted your father, that’s how you slept through the storm in the bow.” Eventually we got our sleeping bags set up in the shelters, one for each family. Unfortunately it wasn’t until the next morning that we figured out how to slide the walls of the shelter to block off the wind on one side, so it was a noisy and windy night. The kids slept great though.
The next morning the wind was still blowing fiercely and the thought of finding an IHOP was quite appealing. But the sunshine was gorgeous, and the thought of some coffee on the gas stove and some hot scrambled eggs helped me to convince everyone to stick it out. How often can you crowd 6 adults and 4 kids in a little shelter and savor scrambled eggs and muffins? So we did it. Soon we found a sunny, sheltered spot and drank lots off coffee. No decaf this morning. We all knew we had to stick it out for another day so we could sleep better the 2nd night!
We like to ask Elisabeth what she remembers about that night. She is figuring out what words like “because” and “why” mean, but she gets them mixed up. “What happened to you in the tent?” “You were scared,” she says. “Why?” “Because it was windy and Mommy and Daddy got you out.” She doesn’t seem to know that the tent had come unstaked and rolled over! Just as well.
The 1 hour horseback riding tour we took that morning had none of the adventure of the night before. Elisabeth enjoyed riding with John, and Ellen and Douwe were on a horse behind me. I felt sort of like an extra—I didn’t have a child with me and I wasn’t really thrilled by the trip, nor could I easily talk to anyone. I found myself talking to the horse: “Look at that tree!” “We’re almost home!” And I found the seat of a bicycle to be much more comfortable than a saddle.
By the afternoon the wind had died down, but that night we stayed in the upstairs of the shelter in case the wind came back. Everyone slept much better.
Sunday morning was a nice relaxing morning drinking coffee in the warm sunshine, watching the kids play together happily. We read the story of the Triumphal Entry and the kids stood up to say, “Hosanna!”
We are grateful for friends with whom we can share these experiences and make memories.
John Walter, Ellen, Douwe and Anna Loes
Ricky and Douwe--new friends
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