Sigh. My mom is taking my niece Rapunzel up north to a Bible camp in the mountains that I used to attend when I was a teenager. It’s the last year that this camp is going to be held there (the amazing hosts are retiring) and it hurts me that I can’t join them.
I was going to join them. Bug and I were all excited about going “camping.” I couldn’t wait to show her all the things that I remember so fondly from that camp but…it just didn’t work out. There were a few key variables (time, money, a blessing from Toby) that, no matter how we reworked the plans, just weren’t happening.
I could have squeezed it together, borrowed some funds from overdraft (nothing new to me) and probably made it work but I’ve done that too many times. I’ve come to the point in my life where I’m realizing that wanting something really bad isn’t always enough to make it work. I’ve forced trips like this before and come home regretting them.
So we’re not going. It makes me sad. My mom is packing up her SUV (in between about a thousand phone calls from my Dad) as I type this and I know that if I were going I could help her in so many ways. But it just wasn’t meant to be. We’re staying home and having a nice little Fourth-of-July celebration with Toby, just us three. It will be okay.