Rogue State of Heart

This weekend, we had our annual Father’s Day weekend camping trip (which should really be called Mother’s Day Two camping trip–but that’s another post). Anyways, a bunch of us survived the Saturday morning ‘wall of water’ that greeted us as we awoke.

Afterwards, the clouds eventually broke, and, as a matter of fact, it became a pleasant day by sunset. We even had fires going by the afternoon, much to our children’s delights.

At one point in the afternoon, I was horsing around near our fire pit with Riley, the four year old son of my friend Nathan. I’d lift Riley upside down and pretend to lower him to the ground. He would giggle and squeal about letting go, but then jump back at me for more. 

At one moment during our tussle, as I held him in my arms, a stub of a fresh green pine-cone dropped right between us—amazingly accurate targeting by the tree, I must add. He picked it up and laughed. I told him it was a gift from Mr. Tree.

We played it up for a bit, and then I turned and talked to the massively skyscraping 200 ft long pine tree next to us and said “Hey, Mr. Tree, where’s my gift?”

One of the reasons I love to go camping is because it’s such a positive memory builder with me and my kids. It’s become a highlight of their summer. With all the busyness of life and rushing around that we so often do, I get concerned that I’m not imprinting fun and positive memories with them.

I want them to remember the times we spent together and smile–not because I am being their friend, but because even as their dad, we could laugh and share fun times together.

Whether Aidan is catching tadpoles in a cup, or Gareth is climbing to the top of a summit and spotting timber rattlers, I want these times to be ones that build the bridges of love and relationship between us into the future as they start to tackle the bigger issues in life.

Fast forward about an hour later. The kids are milling around the fire pit when suddenly a “thunk” occurs next to one of the sitting logs circling the pit where they’re at. Riley immediately shrieks, grabs what hit the ground behind the log and runs over to me.

It was a large, fresh, green pine-cone from Mr. Tree.

“Another gift! Another gift! Another gift from Mr. Tree!”

And he gave it to me with the widest eyes and biggest smile a four year old boy can muster.

Yes it was—another gift courtesy of Mr. Tree.