We left for High School Raft Camp in July. (Okay, it was July 31st. But still July, right?) We were completely removed from technology (this can be a blessed thing, I'll have you know), so as I sat down to my journal along the banks of the Salmon River one morning, I had absolutely no idea what the date was. I didn't even really know what time it was -- we kept crossing the time zone. Mountain. Pacific. Mountain. Pacific. (I'm a pathetic judge of time anyway. Just ask my husband.) So I picked a date from mid-air, jotted it down and put a question mark next to it. Then I came home and found out that a whole week had gone by. It was August. I panicked. How did that happen? August? That meant it was almost September. Which, of course, meant that school was just around the corner.
I became sullen. As I sorted heaps of sandy laundry I had visions of enrolling all four children in the nearest school. Then I became even more sullen. Not really what I wanted to do. (I have learned that it is never a good idea to make rash decisions when overly fatigued.) I sorted. I took deep breaths. I sorted. I pictured all of the curriculum I still needed to order. I scratched my arm. (Did I mention the hives?) And I thought. I thought long and hard. It's not natural to feel spiritual when you're tired and itchy and thinking that life would be so much better if you could always live by the river with a bunch of fun teenagers and college students to play with and never face the responsibilities of home again. (They even cooked for me and entertained my children! I was so spoiled.)
Deep down I knew what I needed to do. I glanced at the clock. Funny. 3:30 -- my time. My time with Him. Somehow, it usually hits around then. I put the kettle on the burner and fished my Bible and journal from out of the suitcase. The pages fell open to 1 Thessalonians, and I was reminded of the great teaching that was shared at camp. I brushed the grains of sand from the binding and flipped back to Matthew. I found the words that were shared from the pulpit on Sunday, the words that my heart craved:
My beloved Julianna, I want you to hunger and thirst . . . for righteousness. And His promise to me? You will be blessed and filled. Forever.
So I asked the Lord to direct my cravings and appetites toward righteous living. I asked Him to help me choose the tasks in my day -- and even the periods of rest -- in a way that would bring life and righteousness into my home. And He gave me His Word:
I will guide you in paths of righteousness . . .
Savoring the promise, I swallowed the last drop of tea and glanced at the clock. Pacific Time. Time to see about dinner. Time to walk in righteousness.