The week came at a time when it was everything we didn't know we needed.
As humans, as Americans, as Southern Californians, and especially as Christians, we bought into the lie that we couldn't easily share our struggles, be transparent with our desperation, that we couldn't admit how much we needed help.
I was deeply depressed. The feeling was not new to me. It has been a frequent visitor in my life, it's grip was familiar, and I kept trying to keep it at bay. We had been so stretched thin with a season of loss when our pastor left the church we had called home for over dozen years, with confusion as everything we knew there changed, with fear as God called us to the unknown waters of church planting. Jason and I found ourselves at war with each other, when from the outside everything looked so beautiful and magical. We fought through nap times, through the midnight hours, across from each other on a therapist's couch.
The drought that has crippled California had nothing on the drought that was crippling our marriage, the desolation that was bleeding over into every aspect our lives. Our parenting, our friendships, our relationship with God.
Between meals, campfire chats, worship, hikes, bible studies, and chocolate chip shakes, God found a way to bring a glimmer of hope into our darkness.
There are smiles. There are tears. There is coffee. There are pancakes.
There are CCA's who love your kids, bring backpacks full of games, make them laugh, and put them to bed. All while you are having life changing deep, painful, raw conversations under a star filled sky.
There is a light filled chapel that I visited when I was a camper in high school. God met me then. He met me there again. Alone, I cried out to Him. For strength. For hope. For healing. For Him to write the story of our marriage. The story of our family. To be the God of the impossible. To make beauty out of the ashes.
Summer Family Camp 2015 // August 9-14 from Forest Home on Vimeo.