I had so wanted to take pictures. Even had my camera in the car with pictures deleted so I could snap away as many as I like. When we pulled in the gravel driveway I think I actually heard a sharp intake of breath from the boy in the seat next to me.

This was not the time for pictures.

I have been wanting to send Zachary to Barefoot Republic for a couple years. A summer camp about an hour away from us, this place focuses on bringing a diverse group of young people together for a week of typical camp rituals. Wall climbing, eating bizarre foods, battles between cabins, worship services infused with youthful emotion. The pictures on their website and the videos they post on YouTube all show a group of kids laughing and playing hard and enjoying themselves.

Zach doesn’t have that many opportunities for this kind of event. He goes to youth group and he participates in sports and is around other kids…but there is just something a bit different about this place.  Maybe it is the diversity they seek out and encourage and facilitate. Maybe it is the enthusiasm of the counselors. I could see it and I was so excited.

The boy? Well…each mile on the GPS that counted down he got a little quieter and the jokes were a little less hearty. When we pulled in he was pretty quiet, other than mentioning he might die.

We checked him in and it all went faster than I wanted. He was swept up in his cabin by a counselor. I stood outside not wanting to be the hovering mom. I did, however, finally go in because I needed that last good-bye. He was busy filling out some paper and nodded and did say he loved me.

It was not exactly the departure I had planned…I was hoping for a little more of a glimmer in his eye. This is the first time he is away for camp…and I’ll be thinking about him all week.  I wish he could see on this end how great it is going to be…he sees instead the uncomfortable silences that are not in the pictures on FaceBook. The awkward moments where you don’t quite fit in or know what to do. The missing home.

Here’s the great thing, though…the counselors see both. They know that catch in the gut of the kids who are not comfortable, and they know how that same kid is going to be grinning from ear to ear at the end of the week. They know, and we parents hope, that these kids are going to see sometimes you have to take that uncomfortable leap into something new to find out how great it can be.

As I was walking away I heard one counselor shout a hello to another counselor. He greeted her and asked if she was ready for the week.

She gave a harried look and replied that she hoped so.

He laughed heartily and then said,

“No worries. God is ready.”

Yep, the boy is in good hands.

I know it has been weeks since I have written anything here. The funny thing is that it is not because I have been so busy; things are beginning to settle down for the summer. There are still hockey games and activities, but the days are beginning to take on that lazy attitude.

Possibly that has led to my lack of enthusiasm to write, but I think it is actually something a little deeper.

There has been so much grief lately, and so many friends facing challenges if not significant trials. The tornados in Oklahoma…we’ll be driving right through there in a few weeks as we make our trek to NM and CO. I cannot imagine how those folks are beginning to start over. Such loss. Others who are facing health issues with children…and many I know only through FaceBook and yet follow their progress closely. Others who are changing jobs or houses or schools or towns and dealing with the uprooting and re-settling.

Others who face tremendous loss that comes suddenly.

Others who are doing well. Sometimes we forget to mention them, don’t we. Some who are still walking in the midst of all these events of life and do so with joy and with peace.

I just realized as I was walking this morning that I really have nothing to say. I go through these seasons and I realize that I am just adding to the noise (yes, I realize that it has taken me 200+ words to say that). It is not that I am unfeeling or that I am uncaring, it is rather that awareness that sometimes silence is best.

There is not an answer to friends who are facing deep challenges, but presence is helpful.

Prayers seem to filter down to groans.

And yet…wonder seeps in even in these times and the laugh of a 2 year old girl can bring such joy and delight.

All of this to say…time for a season of quiet. Time to observe, to pray and to read and to listen. Time to simplify for a bit. Time to just be. It is not that I am neglecting this blog…it is simply time for a season of quiet.

See you soon…when the words begin flowing again.

Something is strange today.

There is a noticeable lack of noise around the house. There are papers missing, and pencils not being sharpened. Books are not being opened and discussions are not taking place.
The boys are all gone for testing this week.  All three. All day.

This is strange.

We are almost done with our first year of homeschool Only three more weeks after this week. The home stretch. I even have completed all the lesson plans through to the end of the year.

We’ve made it!
Actually, more than that. We’ve caught a bit of a groove now, and I know some things that work and some that don’t. I have more of a vision for what our days should look like, and more of an inkling to what I want this homeschool venture to be all about.

For us. Because I am well aware this is not for everyone…and it may not be for us all the way through their education.

The reality sinks in, though, on days like today when they are absent. I have become accustomed to the noise and the activity and the life that happens with homeschool. I am the first to admit that I need my space and my time to think and to read and to be alone…if I don’t have that I become pretty grouchy. Those times are much more difficult to find with the kids all home. I am the first to admit how pleased I am that we are doing this…I am surprised how much I enjoy teaching them and being with them. I am eager to see how the next year takes shape as we put some of the things we learned into practice, and as we tweak our schedules a little more.

I’m thankful. Thankful for the chance to homeschool and for all the resources. Thankful for friends who don’t homeschool and keep us balanced. Thankful for flexibility and kids who are willing to roll with something new. Thankful for the sunshine…and the chance today to relax a little and catch up on household things that tend to get pushed aside. Thankful for a relaxed Monday.

I should be finishing up my housework at the moment. Or finishing up the next chapter in Peterson’s book so we can continue our discussion about REsurrection Life.

I keep finding myself distracted, though. I’ll come by the computer in the kitchen and stop to check email or to look something up…and I’ll find thoughts about Boston. Friends are posting their thoughts and their prayers. The picture of 8 year old Martin has caught me a few times.

I have prayerd…prayed for peace to settle around that city. You know how ash settles after a fire, or after you blow on a fire…it settles slowly and it is a little fragile. I picture the peace of God settling around the city in that way…slowly, and with a sense of the fragile. Fragile emotions and frayed nerves. Fears and hatred and sorrow…and even hope maybe mixed in.

We are so broken.

Whoever did this…so very broken.

And yet. More than that.

There is evil.  I try to ignore it sometimes…and sometimes it is easy to do as I hear my children giggle and I hear the birds and see the sunsets…it is easy to ignore that there is evil that not only seeks our destruction but delights in it. Seeks, as the Bible says, like a lion looking for prey to devour.

That evil…that deep and dark evil that hates us with passion…that stirred those events yesterday, and delighted in the terror.

And we cannot fix that.
We cannot ban enough things or create enough safe zones, arrest enough criminals or arm enough armies.  We cannot end it completely. We can only keep its physical violence at bay…and we only do that with limited success.

That evil…and its hold on our brokenness…that has to be eradicated by something, Someone, stronger than ourselves.

I think of the story of another man who hated with passion and who sought destruction. He was held up in his pursuit by others who joined with him. He oversaw executions and ordered others to be doled out by his subordinates. He did all of this with a righteous vengeance….until.

Until he was knocked blind by a God who is able to intervene and call us out of the hold of evil and darkness…and change even our name and our identity.

Saul becomes Paul.

The story repeats thousands of times.

Whoever set those bombs yesterday…whatever thinking lay behind that attack…the best we can hope for is to find the person and lock them up so they can’t act again. We cannot end the evil.

God have mercy….there will be a day when He will end the evil. That is both exhilarating and terrifying. There will be a day when God will say enough. There will be an end to His patience and there will be a culmination to the story.

For those of us who believe…there will be peace that will settle in a way we have never known before…with the absence of evil.
For those who resist Him and who deny Him….there will not be peace.

These are big thoughts. Beyond my imagination, and yet the startling, frightening face of evil that lashed out yesterday reminds me that we are in the midst of the story. We are in the midst of the struggle, and we are hated.

We are also loved.

Redeemed.
Rescued.

Protected for eternity.

That does not ease the pain, I would guess, in this moment for Martin’s father as he waits to see if his wife will survive and how his 6 year old with an amputation will cope. However…as that peace settles more solidly, I pray that the reality of this God who faced evil and obliterated it….this God who will not let evil finally win…this God is real. This is the God we believe upon…and it is in the shelter of His wing we find refuge from the evil.