The summer that wasn't

You know how people ask questions that are pertinent to the season?

“What are you planning to do after graduation?” they’ll ask 12th grade kids, who either shrug off the question irritably or smile as they were taught and spout off a pat answer.  Or “How was your vacation?” they’ll ask after a tickle at the back of their minds reminds them that their friends recently posted something about eating Spaghetti Eis in Germany. Or perhaps “When’s the baby due” (A tricky question that should never be asked unless one is 100% certain that there is, indeed, new life growing inside that lady’s tummy.)

Or, of course, there are always holiday-related questions like “How was your Christmas / Spring Break / Summer?”
It’s that last one that’s got me hot and bothered right now.
“How was my summer?”
More like “Where was my summer?!”

And I’m not even talking about the weather, which was kind of odd this year. Nor am I talking about the usual “Gosh, it was  just so busy” kind of answer. No, where I lost my summer vacation was when suddenly it was filled with lots of things that required brainpower. In other words, there was a total lack of any vacationing…or even any “staycationing”.

Summer is supposed to be about slowing down, they say. “Sit back and relax,” they say. “Put your feet up. Lounge around the pool. Pour yourself a tall glass of [insert the drink of your choice. I’ll take strawberry lemonade, please.]”

I had none of that. Or almost none.

And it’s entirely my fault. Well, mostly, anyway. It’s a little bit the fault of the weather, giving us far too many cool and windy days to enjoy the hammock, where it has to be 80ish and no wind (or humidity, in my opinion) in order to be the right temp down at the point with the water on three sides and a breeze even when there isn’t a breeze anywhere else.

But back to it being my fault.

I took on a lot. I preached four times, I spoke at a Bible camp for 3rd-5th graders - meaning speaking 5 times in as many days - and I officiated at a memorial service.

Would I have traded any of it? No. Not one iota.

Told you it was my fault that I’m worn out.

Let me backtrack a little. I rarely preach. Usually only once or twice a year. But the summer began with three scheduled times to preach in six weeks. Which was a lot. But when you work at a church and your pastor retires, well, you need to fill the pulpit for a month and a half. Besides, I said yes to that months ago, thinking that I would commit to that and be done. And another besides: I enjoy preaching.

Then came the camp, asking me to speak. I’m on the board there. My son was working there and my daughter would be there as well. How could I say no? And besides, camp is relaxing.
Uh huh.
It’s far more relaxing when you don’t have speaking engagements hanging over your head daily.

Then came a request to fill the pulpit at the church where I attend (as opposed to the church where I work.) One time deal. No problem, I’ll enjoy that.

Then came the biggest ask of my life. To officiate at the memorial service of two of my childhood classmates, who passed away in a plane crash in Alaska.

There was no way on God’s Green Earth I could say no to that when I was asked. Would it be incredibly hard and would I need more prayer than ever in my life and could I even make it though?
Good questions.

For four weeks I planned and prepared and wrote and erased and thought and scratched out and thought and prayed.
Lots and lots of prayer; lots and lots of asking friends to pray.
I flew out to Washington, took a ferry to the island where I grew up, and it was amazing and hard and wonderful and exhausting and I was so honored to be a part of it.

And so, after all of that…summer is over and I feel like it never began.

It was - all of it was - amazing and hard and wonderful and exhausting. And I wouldn’t trade one bit of it.

Except maybe for the bit when I had Covid in the middle, causing me to have to cancel one of the preaching times.

So, where does this leave me now?
 
Expectant. Ready for more. Thankful. Trusting God to work in ways I never imagined.
And still a little bit tired. Still wanting that staycation.

But in the midst of the amazing and hard and wonderful and exhausting, I have found peace. Fulfillment. Joy. I have found tremendous strength in seeing how God has carried me through it all.

I have clung to the rock that is higher than I. And wow, have I found him faithful.

“Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe. I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.”
Psalm 61:1-4