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One of these things is not like the others,

One of these things doesn`t belong.
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time we finish our song?

That Sesame Street song is running through my head as I look at this photo of husband, youngest son, youngest son’s fiancée, M, and myself. You could guess size, shape, age, or clothing and yes, we are all unique. But, the difference I am thinking of is that only one of us is prepared for the sun and that would be ME! Yesterday, we had a lovely day at Rainbow River. It has been four years since youngest son’s summer jobs and oldest son’s move from home changed our vacation choices, and we lost the flexibility that allowed us to rent the house on the river. Oh, we had such wonderful vacations there. For a week, our preadolescent and adolescent boys and their friends were free to raft, tube and swim the river all they wanted without any parental influence other than an admonition to wear sunscreen. They came and went as they pleased while husband and I sat on the dock or floated in a tube anchored to the dock. For one week, we didn’t put on shoes and literally chilled our cares away in the constant 72 degree water. We’ve been on some great vacations since that annual week of bliss ended, but none since have been quite that relaxing or carefree. We considered renting the house again this year, but with its popularity, dates are gone by March 1 and we couldn’t plan that far ahead. Every year about this time, the river calls us and for the first time in a long time, we responded despite a two hour drive each way and only a few hours on the river. We laughed and reminisced. We told stories to M. of all those wonderful memories including the times from before we found the house when we used to camp at the old Rainbow Springs campground. There was the trip when youngest son, just barely able to walk, toddled down the boat ramp and into the water sinking below its clear surface and sitting on the bottom looking with open eyes at the river’s wonders without a care that he couldn’t swim. There was also the time when a family canoe trip turned into a frantic leap into the water as a wasp’s nest fell into the boat and once again, I found myself yanking youngest son up off the bottom. I was grateful not only when he learned to swim, but when we found the rental house and I could leave sheets full of sand and the communal bathhouse behind. Yesterday, as we floated past the house, we all sighed with longing. I don’t know if it is the house or the frame of mind that it represents that we miss. I suspect it is both. We had a great time on the river, but it left us longing for more. God’s presence in our lives is like a dip in a refreshing, clear river.  Such a contrast to this stale, muddy world we live in.  But, just a warning, one taste leaves will leave  you wanting more.