There's No Place Like Home

I don't know if you've heard, but it's hot. We are such a number-obsessed people. We must know exactly what the temperature is outside, exactly how much we weigh, exactly what time it is, exactly how many days until the next big whatever. I'm not pointing fingers. I about go crazy if I don't know the time or my weight. I don't know that I'm cut out for life on a tropical island where time isn't so important or in another era where there weren't measurement devices at our fingertips 24/7.

Well, I don't know where that came from...but did I mention it's hot? And I don't even need a thermometer to tell me that. It was apparently one measly degree away from the record of 104 and, unfortunately, Maddie's temperature has been matching the one outside lately. Between the heat and the virus, we're all going a little stir crazy in this house with all the blinds drawn.

Of all the fun and busy summer plans we've had, only one major event has not been impacted by a kid-illness. Just to mix things up, we had a fairly healthy winter and have decided to name summer the Season of Sickness. Once again, our plans have been changed a bit due to poor Maddie's illlness. Our upcoming trip is being slightly postponed until she can get her temp back in double digits.

Have I ever mentioned I don't care for plans getting changed? I don't know why I'm not used to it by now. They say the only thing that's ever certain is change...or something like that...and that's definitely the case with young kids. But, in true Type A fashion, I fight it tooth and nail.

We're hopefully on the tail end of the virus from you-know-where that sent me and Maddie home a night early from church kids' camp. I spent time earlier today picking out some photos to upload so I could put together a nice little post about it, but the computer froze up and I lost them all. Honestly, this chick is too hot and lazy to start again today. Never fear, though...tomorrow is another day. Another hot day.

I will say we were sad to have to high-tail it out of camp early, but there was a little part of me way deep down inside that did a little happy dance at getting to come home to my not-so-nasty bathroom and most-likely-bug-free bed a night early. (Ironically, we found a juicy spider on Maddie's pillow, which just happened to be on my bed, when we got home.) Only for my only daughter would I agree to go to camp for the first time in my life. Yes, you read that right. I'm 35 years old, and I just completed my very first camp experience. I'm not what you'd call a Camp Girl. I am vehemently against bugs, sweat, and mildewed bathrooms, so camp just never seemed like the right place for me. But I did it...all for love. Maybe Maddie's sickness was a blessing in disguise. God rewarded me with one less night in that lodge. No, really, she's been feeling terrible, and I wish she'd been able to have more fun.

Okay, so not to toot my own horn or anything, but I realized this week that, in the last year, I've...

1. Gone to a third-world country without any member of my family, heading into very questionable lodging circumstances. I almost had a panic attack before I went because I was so afraid of that oh-so-hated insect I can't even bring myself to name.

Yes, I'm completely aware that this place does not look foreboding. In fact, it was charming and pleasantly bug-free. The point is, I didn't know that going in. In my defense, there was no heat or hot water and it was chilly. We also stayed two nights in a not-up-to-par hotel.

2. Gone on a not-so-far-away mission trip where I had to sleep on a cot and share a very inconvenient community bathroom with lots of other girls in a building where I did see some live bug action.

That lovely building in the background is where we stayed. It turned out to be not so bad as well, but the bathroom situation was seriously inconvenient. And I did see creepy crawlies.

3. Gone to camp, where I was greeted upon my arrival at our lodge by one of those insects I can't name. Okay, it was dead, but it was taunting me with the fact that one dead one means hundreds of live ones just beyond sight.
Camp was lovely. The accomodations were not. But it could have been much worse. I have rather high standards, if you haven't gathered that.

For most adventurous people, or normal people for that matter, this doesn't seem like that big of a deal. But for ME, it's a huge deal. I did three whole things that were way out of my physical comfort zone in less than twelve months. My physical comfort (which isn't always a logical thing) has been a hindrance to me all my life. I was born with a hatred for all things dirty in my pores. Not that all my pores are dirty (who knows...they may be) but that the hatred is in my pores for dirty things. Got it? I like my own bed and my own shower, potty, and sink. Really like them.

In this very small and pretty dumb way, I've grown a little. I've done things for the Lord and my family that I'd rather have skipped. Of course, looking back (from my own bedroom, which I will shortly leave and head into my own shower) I'm so glad I did each one of them. I know my own comfort and security can often be a hindrance for me experiencing something great, but acting on that knowledge still isn't easy. God has been faithful and enabled to me to thrive in situations that make my skin crawl. And I'm thankful. :)

But I'm also really glad to be home.


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