Summer is a space for what is wild — the space where our skin gets tighter and our soul lets loose, when keeping routine feels cumbersome and spontaneity reigns supreme (unless, like me, you keep office hours). Even still, for those of us working folk, we feel the call of the wild and the invitation to play.
Evenings stretch, and the scent of barbecue wafts across the fenceline: someone’s cookin’. The scent invites us to let our kitchens and our lives “air out” a bit. Pop-up lemonade stands decorate the corners of neighborhood streets and chalk art — courtesy of the toddler gang — decorates driveways and sidewalks. Movies after dark with friends and family become more regular and desserts after dinner more common. Summer inevitably brings up themes of childhood, play and freedom.
What a grace to be given an entire season each year just to help us remember that what (or who) ran wild and true still is so.
Every year for the last 10 years, my family has started summer with a camping trip alongside two other families. What began with tents in Garner State Park on the Frio River eventually became cabins that then gave way to VRBOs. Our crew now travels with CPAPs, heating pads, prescriptions and care for our backs.
This year we landed a cabin on the Guadalupe River lined by cypress trees teeming with avian life. Each morning, coffee in hand, I watched the river wake up and wildlife work things out. Turtles and herons shared space on a log and allowed the duck a voice at their meeting while fish flopped and the occasional snake slithered by.
What is wild still has order. And part of that order is whimsy.
“Camping” gives us permission to play, to rest and ultimately to connect with one another in ways our everyday lives don’t allow for. Our masks fall off in nature and authenticity is invited in. Around the fire or floating on a river, we have witnessed our kids share parts of themselves and their stories they normally wouldn’t on a weeknight at home.
As parents, we’re invited to meet the wild with our own style of play, splashing around and throwing off of our armor. My kids need to see me play; it’s awkward and vulnerable and ok.
Author Ruthie Lindsey, a trusted voice in recovery, writes, “You do not break what is wild. You meet it where it is. You earn trust with presence and patience and time. You do not override the animal body. You honor it…”
Anyone who has seen a child knows humans are animals, and if becoming “like a child” is the way to eternity and the true order of things, then summer is our portal to remember who we are. Summer only ushers in the call, with waters beckoning to heal us and the wild rushing to introduce us to ourselves.
Use your vacation days; take the last-minute trip. Retreating into the wild helps us remember who we are.
Summer is wild and wild is a space for love.
