About three to four times a summer, and even occasionally in the winter, we escape to the mountains and stay in Jon’s grandparents’ cabin. My first memory of this cabin dates back to before Jon and I became a couple, when our youth group headed up there to play “Capture the Flag” on their property. But I digress…
This cabin has meant so much to us, and we are so thankful to have this place as our retreat. There’s no indoor plumbing, no television, and no cell phone service. In order to get any kind of contact with the outside world, we have to hike to the top of their property, in a specific clearing, where we might get two, three bars max. There’s an outhouse and we wash dishes by hand. And while there’s been some added improvements in the sixteen years Jon and I’ve been together, such as electricity, a dvd player, a refrigerator, and a stove, it forces us to slow down.
I love watching the Littles use their imagination and create forts and secret hideaways on the property, I love curling up with a book, listening to a fire in the wood stove, I love sitting down to dinner with his dad and grandparents and reminisce over years past. There’s a special continuity to it all, from one generation to the next to the next. Just as if we’re linking the past to the present every time we measure the Littles on the same beam as the cousins before them. This place is where peace and contentment come to life for me, as if remembering that getting back to the basics is where true joy is found.