Stopping Time

There's nothing like a camping trip to help you reconnect with nature and provide some much needed R&R.  Of course, for moms, "R&R" means doing what you always do for your family except in a more rustic environment with fewer modern conveniences and surrounded by unseen creatures who'd like to eat you for lunch. 

It's definitely not an experience for the faint of heart.

Then there's the way that I choose to camp. 

No tents or public restrooms for me.  No way!  My version of roughing it entails camping in a 32-foot travel trailer with dual slide outs, a microwave, and a full bathroom.  Lest you think there is no suffering at all on my part while camping, consider the sacrifice that I make in the name of family togetherness by living without cable TV or (gasp!) WiFi.

It's rough, I tell you. 

So there we were, my husband and I, our three boys, and our dog, in our cozy RV on a wooded campsite for the weekend. With enough provisions to last a family of five into the next ice age, we were prepared for anything that might come our way.

Well, almost anything.

For some reason, the clock that hangs in our small little trailer kitchen refused to keep time properly.  It ran fine for a while but then it would stop again as soon as we weren't looking.  I swear, it was like having a toddler in the house: you don't dare take your eyes off of it for a minute.

We hunted around the trailer for some batteries and replaced the clock's battery with two different ones that we'd found.  Each time, the same thing happened.  The clock ran for a while and then stopped.  As someone who's excessively dependent upon the clock, I found this quite uncomfortable.  How on earth will I know what time it is?  How will I know when I have to...to...

...do what?

Evan, my youngest son, wasn't concerned at all about the lack of a functioning clock.  There were games to play, caterpillars to catch, ice cream to eat, and exploring to do.  Watching his pure enjoyment of the simplest moments compelled me to join him.  Before I knew it, the ever-present chatter in my head had quieted.  I was surprised to realize that for once, I wasn't thinking or worrying about anything.  It felt good to simply exist in the moment, finally having nowhere to be and nothing special to do.  

With no measure of time to dictate my day, I let the lunch dishes sit in the sink and watched the birds instead.  I leisurely read an entire magazine from cover to cover.  I made dinner when we felt hungry instead of when the hands on the clock hit a certain time.  I stayed outside at the campfire instead of going inside when the sky grew dark.  I went to bed when I felt tired instead of when the clock said I should.

Best of all, I enjoyed my family as it was, in all of its wonderful, messy, imperfect beauty.  In a blink, we will all be older, busier, and more distracted.  One day, the five of us will no longer be together.  Life, as it's designed to do, will ultimately pull us toward different paths in very different directions. 

What a gift it was to enjoy a weekend together, unfettered by the demands of time and responsibility, when the only thing that mattered was enjoying each other's company.

Some people receive epiphanies from burning bushes or near-death experiences.  Apparently I received mine from a temperamental clock.