A few weeks back my son asked, “How much longer do you think you’re going to be RVing?”
My response was laughter, and, “Honey, I never thought I’d still be doing it now.”
But I am and having a bang-up time. I rang in start of 2025 camping beneath tall trees along the Alabama River at Isaac Creek Campground. I joined a group of women campers spanning ages forty-four to over seventy-four, who came in their campers and RVs to spend time chatting and laughing around campfires, sharing faith and knowledge and local sight-seeing.
We were blessed with a tour of the Claiborne Lock and Dam. The photo of my pickup with the logs is where my friend and I pulled over to scavenge firewood. Rural Alabama is logging country. We came upon these logs spilled and left to rot, a number of them short enough for us to handle. Great logging trucks rumbled by, and no doubt their drivers wondered at we women scurrying at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Finding firewood got to be quite the game, as did taking photos of the magnificent sunsets.
I tried to get photos of the awe-inspiring clear winter night sky but did not have the ability. Psalm 19:1 tells us, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork.” That is the absolute truth. Looking up at the diamonds in the sky, I felt that I heard an angel choir singing hallelujah. It had been many years since I had been far enough away from city lights to see such stars.
Looking at those stars, and with my word for the year–Love–in the back of my mind, I realized how so much of my life, so many experiences and loved ones are now gone. Yet here I am, alive and looking at stars. Loving stars–and campfires, friends and family, good hot tea, laughter, my dog Faith.
Love remains.
All failures to love, all the disagreements, petty grievances, disappointments and betrayals large and small that cause regrets, all of that passes away. Love is the only thing that remains. I think that is because love is a living thing. Love creates, and builds, and heals. Love is life. Love never dies.
I don’t know how I got from the subject of camping to love, but there you are, the writer mind. Maybe it is something someone needs to hear.
Blessings,
Curtiss Ann Matlock 