Today was cloudy and grey outside, but yesterday was nice. The younger boys and I went on a walk to the beach. We walked a small part of the beach trail toward the pine forests. Across the lake there are three official property pine forests: Pine Forest I, Pine Forest II, and Pine Forest III. Their existence is owed to (besides God creating and sustaining them daily) a man from southern Illinois who led a boy scout project to plant them.

We turned around before the bridge. We found a new fallen tree that had been recently visited by a beaver. I don’t like walking on the trail by myself anymore, hindered by fears and uncertainties of if I couldn’t get back. It’s not as bad as it used to be, but for a while it seemed camp was a place that anybody just came to. People just drive on by the office and house, find a place to park, then disappear to fish and go for hikes.

Dad and the boys came home just about the time I was setting pickles on their plates. I’d made grilled ham and cheese for lunch, pausing an online lecture at noon to make sure I had enough time. They walked in saying how they’d been talking on the way home wondering what food I’d made this time. It made me happy, as it does when I have gifted toward joy. I wondered if this is what it was like to be restored to your first love.

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