Posts tagged Camping

THE SWEETEST LEMONADE

Without warning, an enormous clap of thunder exploded, and my boys and I jumped with fear. A dark storm was brewing, and the afternoon sky had become almost dark as night. The campfire we were just about to start would have to wait until the downpour passed. From the looks of it, it seemed the storm was going to linger a while as the cool mountain wind almost ushered us into our tent for protection.

Mitch squirmed into his sleeping back and wiggled around as if to snuggle deeply into the mound of soft things that surrounded him. I chuckled a little because I did the same thing when I was a boy, and at that moment, I remembered how fun it was to be young. I looked upon my boys with a touch of envy. Mitch pulled his hands behind his head, his face bearing a light mustache from chocolate milk, and began to smile softly. "We're safe and sound, right, Dad?" Mitch said with a mixture of confidence and concern. "You bet, Mitch. This is going to be a crazy camping adventure." Mitch smiled and said, "I know you'll keep us from floating away."

Within minutes, we could hear the occasional pitter-patter of raindrops on the tent. A few minutes later, a burst of raindrops assaulted the side of the tent as the wind began to pick up speed. Soon, we were in the middle of a torrential downpour. I worried if our tent was rated for an hurricane-like storm. Mitch nudged my arm and said, "Doesn't this remind you of Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day?" Mitch giggled as I peered nervously out the window, keeping an eye out for a flash flood.

We knew there might be bad weather, so our backup plan was to have a den party in the tent. So, I pulled out a portable DVD player, broke out some snacks, and pulled up our covers as the boys and I watched a movie under the thinly veiled safety of our tent.

I didn't sleep well that night. Aside from a few breaks in the early evening, the rain never really let up. So, I laid in the tent in a trance-like state – somewhere between sleep and wakefulness … sitting up every hour to make sure the boys were dry. By morning the kids were rested, and I was hammered.

Of all the moments in life, the ones I remember with great fondness and nostalgia aren't the time's things went perfectly. Instead, the moments I treasure most are when we struggled and found our way through a hard time. Don't get me wrong; perfect times are just that … perfect. I love and appreciate them for what they are; honey is honey. But the taste of lemonade is never so sweet as when you must work to make it so. Perhaps that's why hard times often end up becoming our best times, in the end.

This photo of Mitch reminds me that even in our difficulties, we can make the best of what we've got – and somehow, someway, we'll look back and be glad we lived the life we lived. In every struggle, there's a price to be paid; but in the end, that's what makes the sweetest lemonade.

Christopher JonesMarch 10, 2020Camping, Fatherhood, Family Traditions, Family, For Times of TroubleComment

THE SWEETEST LEMONADE

Mitch squirmed into his sleeping back and wiggled around as if to snuggle deeply into the mound of soft things that surrounded him. I chuckled a little because I did the same thing when I was a boy, and in that moment, I remembered how fun it was to be young. I looked upon my boys with a touch of envy. Mitch pulled his hands behind his head, his face bearing a light mustache from chocolate milk, and began to smile softly. “We’re safe and sound, right Dad?” Mitch said with a mixture of confidence and concern. “You bet, Mitch. This is going to be a crazy camping adventure.” Mitch smiled and said, “I know you’ll keep us from floating away.”

Within minutes, we could hear the intermittent pitter-patter of raindrops on the tent. A few minutes later, a burst of raindrops assaulted the side of the tent as the wind began to pick up speed. Soon, we were in the middle of a torrential downpour. I worried if our tent was rated for an hurricane-like storm. Mitch nudged my arm and said, “Doesn’t this remind you of Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day?” Mitch giggled as I peered nervously out the window, keeping an eye out for a flash flood.

We knew there might be bad weather, so our backup plan was to have a den party in the tent. So, I pulled out a portable DVD player, broke out some snacks and pulled up our covers as the boys and I watched a movie under the thinly veiled safety of our tent.

I didn’t sleep well that night. Aside from a few breaks in the early evening, the rain never really let up. So, I laid in the tent in a trance-like state – somewhere between sleep and wakefulness … sitting up every hour to make sure the boys were dry. By morning the kids were rested, and I was hammered.

Of all the moments in life, the ones I remember with great fondness and nostalgia, aren’t the times things went perfectly. Instead, the moments I treasure most are when we struggled and found our way through a hard time. Don’t get me wrong, perfect times are just that … perfect. I love and appreciate them for what they are; honey is honey. But the taste of lemonade is never so sweet as when you must work to make it so. Perhaps that’s why hard times often end up becoming our best times, in the end.

This photo of Mitch reminds me that even in our difficulties, we can make the best of what we’ve got – and somehow, some way, we’ll look back and be glad we lived the life we lived. In every struggle, there’s a price to be paid; but in the end, that’s what makes the sweetest lemonade.

Christopher JonesMay 2, 2018Camping, Family Traditions, Family, Fatherhood, Adversity, Doing Hard Things, Mitchell's FavoriteComment

WHAT CHILDREN REMEMBER*

I'll never forget how startled I was when Mitch walked up to me and handed me this piece of paper whispering, "Hey Dad, I made this for you and Mom." I smiled and said, "Awww, Mitch, I love it when you draw pictures. Can you tell me about it?" Mitch paused a moment and said, "Remember that night we went camping and we almost froze solid?" I giggled, "Oh, boy do I remember that night." Mitch then giggled and began to describe what he remembered from that camping trip. He said, “You kept waking up to check on me.”

That was the most difficult night we’d ever had camping. I remember calling Natalie on my way home from a meeting one wintery Friday night. I asked her to throw our camping gear in the back of the truck and told her that me and the boys were going on an adventure. The boys were excited and before we knew it, we were headed up a snowy canyon near Tibble Creek reservoir.

By the time we reached our campsite the sun was all but gone and we were setting up in the dark. My sweet wife inadvertently packed a summer tent with no wind guard - which was basically a mosquito net. I asked the boys what they wanted to do and they said, "Let's not quit. Let's do this."

After a few rounds of hot chocolate around a roaring campfire, we settled in for the night. My boys were cuddled up in sleeping bags, blankets and beanies. The canyon filled with giggles as little Mitch and Ethan shared jokes. Then the giggles softened and the jokes became fainter. Before I knew it, the boys had drifted into a deep slumber. I wasn’t so lucky.

I don’t think I really slept that night. Instead, I was in a constant state of worry. On occasion, I drifted into a shallow sleep, only to jolt out of my sleeping bag to make sure my boys were still covered and warm. Then I’d lay on my back and look through our unprotected half-tent at tree branches made bare from the winter snow. I gazed beyond the forest trees at a million stars that shimmered like crystals of ice. I thought, “I’m pretty outer space isn’t this cold.” I wondered if the night would ever end.

After what seemed a never-ending cycle of waking, panicking, checking, then dozing … the stars became faint and the blackness that surrounded them turned deep blue, then gradually light blue. Before I knew it, morning had come and the stars were gone.

We started another roaring fire to get warm and it didn’t take long before we were on our way down the canyon. Mitch was quieter than usual that morning. Mitch just looked out the window as if in deep thought. Finally, I asked, “Hey Mitch, what’s on your mind?” He said, “Dad, let’s never do that again.” I chuckled and said, “Good idea. I’m in.” He smiled and we both laughed.

“How often is [our children’s] mind and heart simply shown by their hand-drawn art?”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

Later that night, I sat by Mitchell’s bed as he whispered a nightly prayer. Until that point, I don’t think I’d ever heard a more genuine expression of gratitude for a bed, warm blankets and that we “didn’t have to sleep in a tent for reals.”

That camping adventure remains our most difficult one on record – which is why it surprised me little Mitch took the time to draw it. When I asked him why, Mitch thought a moment and said, “I don’t know. I guess it wasn’t THAT bad. Plus, it made me grateful for what I have.”

Mitch wasn’t the only one to draw pictures of that hard adventure. My other boys did something similar. In their minds, they saw the difficult experience for what it was – just momentary discomfort. What they remembered, in the end, was the good they pulled out of that experience.

In matters of parenting, I wonder sometimes who is raising who. My kids teach me in the most simple and profound ways. Yes, they may acknowledge a difficult experience, but it seems they chose to remember the better parts. How often is their mind and heart simply shown by their hand-drawn art? And if it be our children see the good so easily, therein lies a lesson and a challenge for me.

Some Photos of Our Camping Adventure Mitch Crecreated

Christopher JonesSeptember 18, 2017Enhanced Essay, Camping, Adversity, Art, Memories, Seasonal_September Comments

LITTLE MITCH & THE BIG UNIVERSE

It wasn't many years ago I took my boys camping high in the Uinta Mountains, far away from city lights. It had been a long day, filled with adventures and exploration. As we lay in our tent, tired from a long day of play, we gazed through the window of the tent into the starry expanse of the heavens.

Mitch said softly, "Dad, how big is space?" I remembered wondering that same thing when I was his age.

“... one thing I know, I am in heaven right here with you”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

"Well," I said, "scientists have learned a lot about space since I was a kid. So far, we can't see the end of space. In fact, they say the universe is so big, it isn't possible for humans to comprehend it."

Mitch thought for a moment and then said, "Wow, that's amazing."

A few minutes passed, soothed by the melodic song of crickets, then Mitch said, "So, Dad, is heaven up there?" I paused a moment and said, "I think heaven will surprise us. But one thing I know, I am in heaven right here with you." Mitch smiled and snuggled up to me. I put my arms around him as we fell asleep.

There, in my arms, was little Mitch frail and curious. Above me, a universe so vast, my finite mind couldn't comprehend something so infinite. Mitch and I lay on the ground, high in the mountains, less than a speck in the cosmos. Somewhere in the middle of the finite and infinite I held the universe in my arms, grateful to be alive.

Be sure to learn more about the full solar eclipse.

It's happening in 1 week and it will never happen again. At least in your lifetime.

We hope you take a moment on Monday, August 21, 2017, to experience any portion of the eclipse and look upon the sky with a child-like sense of awe.

Christopher JonesAugust 13, 2017Seasonal_August, Camping, Enhanced Essay, August2017_Exception Comments