~ Deceember 25, 2020 ~
“My precious, perfect wife got this new journal for me as a Christmas present. She is the gift whisperer. I can never think of anything I want, but she always comes up with something brilliant. I love this journal and the wooden pen that came with it. My old one was nearly full, so the timing is great. In a move quite unlike myself, I think I’ll leave those last pages blank and move on to this one now. Can’t help myself!
“Thanks, Sweetheart. A wonderful way to start the upcoming New Year. A perfect companion for my messenger bag.“
That’s right, getting serious now with a leather journal. My leather collection has grown impressively since then. I never planned it, it just sort of happened. You can’t beat leather craft. And wood. Pen cases, coasters, a charcuterie board, a staff . . . If it could have been found in a castle a thousand years ago, that’s good stuff.
~ January 2, 2021 ~
“The Lord blessed me and mine last year, despite the pandemic. I finished the draft of book two, and made progress on the basement. Ever since then, though, random problems have arisen. Camper leaks galore (my writing haven), dishwasher broke, septic system suddenly quit, a toilet cracked, and got a chip in the windshield of the car. Then another toilet cracked.
“All this right after I doubled down on catching up on things so I could spend some time writing.”
I’d planned on plunging further ahead in the journal to cover more time, but this one stood out, wanting to be shared. I’m this close to rolling around on the floor, laughing at myself. I read over this and did a double-take. ‘Wait, is this an entry from last week?’ Nope, that’s 2021. Four and a half years ago.
I just spent three full weeks last month gutting that same camper! Because of leaks, no less. The good news is the leaks from 2021 never came back after I fixed them. They were in the ceiling. The bad news is there were other leaks all along in foul, dark places of the like Shelob would have made her abode. Leaks that persisted over the years, sneaking like Gollum.
I kept a close eye on the ceiling every outing. Checked the windows and door. I would just smile when it rained all day and not a drop came in. Fun fact: did you know the ceiling and walls can show no signs of water damage, while the floor soaks it all in? Yep. Best of all, the floor looks fine too. In fact, the floor can take on water for years, unbeknownst to anyone. If you crawl underneath, that black tarp wrap they use looks good, even after years of water damage.
So how does such a thing become knownst? When the floor goes soft, like a sponge. Right out in the very middle, that’s when you know rain has been waging guerilla warfare for years, from the outside in. Especially when you slash the linoleum and the stench of mold slaps you in the nose.
That’ll make your heart sink.
Now I’ve set myself the tall order of making dull camper maintenance meaningful. I don’t tell you this to vent or garner sympathy. I tell you this because you have a leaky camper too. Yours might look different. Yours might be a relationship, or lack of one, or having to move, or a wrecked car. I use the pithy example of my camper, but something has made your heart sink. How do you overcome? How do you keep going? It’s not really about the details. Sometimes it’s not even about the gravity of the thing, just the timing. It’s about the fact that sometimes people get knocked down repeatedly, from one calamity to another, be it medical, relational, financial, whatever. Sometimes it’s small things we feel aren’t even worth praying about. Ever felt guilty for being downtrodden over trivial things? So many forms, always the same result – threatening to convince us of the lie that we should give up.
I wish I had the answers. Sorry. Seek His word for answers. What I have are experiences. The lesson from all of them is the same – He will provide.
For my part, life is a series of seasons. Sometimes I drown, others I overflow. No matter what, He always provides.
When life overwhelms and threatens to take you under, may you stand firm and press on. When you go to war with untold tubes of caulk, butyl tape, and a truckbed of marine plywood, may your tools abound and your bead be true. Fight through it, you’ll make it, it will pass. You will taste the fruits of your labor.
For all the grief that camper’s caused, it’s brought even more joy. All the photos I post, all the adventures in wild places, all the time spent in there writing. Just a week after dragging myself from that cramped battlefield, my hands still stained with caulk, I got to see places like this on account of that camper (my son took this photo).
May all your battles be worth it.
Write On,
Fellow Traveler
P. S. ~ I appreciate the well wishes on the contest. I should have the results by the next post. I’ll share the outcome, no matter what.
Posting this on behalf of my good companion, JW. I’m not the only one with carrier pigeon trifles, it seems.
‘Good wisdom as always! I look forward to your eventual book “Zen and the Art of Vacation Camper Maintenance.” 🙂
Keep up the posts! They’re very timely and well received.’
Thanks, JW. I’ve never ventured into non-fiction, but that’s a nice working title. I know you to be one who has dealt with far deeper trouble than my puny example here. Your good humor in all circumstances, even the heart-sinking ones, is even more inspiring than your encouraging words. So glad to have you in this little band of travelers.