A Walk in the Woods

I escape for a few minutes, just me, my camera, and .......quiet. Even typing that word...quiet...makes me heave a sigh as I feel it's illusive fingers wrap around me and then slip away.

I'm surrounded by quiet and stillness here in the north woods of Minnesota, yet chaos still seems to follow me.

Tonight I was determined to exhaust my children and then put them to bed at a decent time, something that is always so hard to do on vacation. We head out for a walk, my sister-in-law, nephew, Jack and Ava, and I. The air is deliciously crisp, even to me, a girl perfectly happy and comfortable in 90 degree weather with equal humidity. I can feel my cheeks and nose turn a happy bright shade of pink and the glow is reflected on the faces of my babies happily trotting along with their pails. You see, we're going searching for treasures on our walk - pine cones of all shapes and sizes, chunks of birch bark, and other pretty things to be found in woods.

The pails fill up, and I even find a few things I may use to make a collage for the dining room wall at home. But what's a walk with three 2 1/2 year olds without fighting, running ahead, lagging behind, and near collisions with SUVs slowing picking their way over the winding Wilderness Road we're strolling along.

Jack has been at it all day. I'm not sure why (well, I've read enough books about boys to know why, but this knowledge doesn't always make it easier), but Jack has been randomly hitting and kicking everyone today. And being on our walk does not stop this behaviour. He makes his way up to his auntie and cousin and kicks them in the leg.

Meanwhile, Ava is yards behind us all admiring everything on the road and off. "Look at this pretty rock/pinecone/stick/flower/etc/etc." I long to go back and slowly stroll with her, but Jack has stopped kicking long enough to run ahead of us all and jog up the middle of the winding road on which on-coming traffic will not be able to see him.

I'm torn. What do I do? Ava needs me to slow to her pace and admire the beauty in everything while urging her to keep going and see what's next. Jack needs me to race him up the next hill, encourage his freedom, yet reign him in and hold his hand when cars go by. And it seems that I can do neither. I'm defeated, neglecting the individual needs of both children, standing on the road of life leading to our cabin, looking forward to one in constant danger and looking back to one in a world of her own.

Somehow we make it alive back to the cabin, and I tell the kids to go make a fire with their father who has been doing guy things with his brothers. They excitedly agree. I grab my camera and set back off down the road.

Within steps, quiet envelopes me. Oh, I can still hear the hum of traffic on 371 in the distance and the laughter of brave pre-adolescents jumping in the lake on a chilly evening. But to me, this is quiet, and for a few moments my mind feels clear again.

I manage to re-locate a quintessential middle-earth-like location that I had admired earlier in the blur of strolling with my twins. There are at least 4 different types of moss that I can see, and their delicate, quiet beauty makes me understand why people have moss gardens. I stroll along a bit more and snap a few photos here and there, none of which really turn out to my liking. I need to better familiarize myself with my manual focus.

I try the telephoto lens settings on my camera and the wide angle and the close up, but feel a bit defeated by them all. I snap the lens cap in place and rest against the mossy ledge I've found. Squirrels and chipmunks chatter and gather around me and loons call from the lake.

With tears in my eyes, I reflect on Jack and Ava. It never ceases to amaze me how much "easier" it was during their first year of life, the year people told me would be the hardest. Being confident with my mothering decisions and sticking to a rather strict routine got us through the first 2 years rather well.  But now I have day after day and moment after moment of situations I'm not entirely sure how to handle.

Motherhood is thrilling and exciting, but it is also the most demoralizing thing I've ever had to tackle. I know God will equip me and parent my kids through me, and I stumbled across a timely quote on the blog of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend which states, "God has a plan for your child and you won't mess it up."

I meander back to our cabin in time for Jack and Ava's first s'mores. Fire, toddlers, pointy roasting sticks, and lots of sugar. There are priceless memories to make.