I keep meaning to write about last weekend. Here goes.

So a bunch of us at church have taken to taking three-day weekends and escaping the city for a little while together. Back in April we went camping (my first time); last weekend we rented a super-nice vacation house by the Guadalupe River outside of Gruene (central Texas, for those unfamiliar).

There was the road trip, of course, and being squished in the back seat of my friend’s Matrix, and about eight thousand stops.

And there was awe at the house, and then a night out on the town, such as it was: Dinner at this fine establishment and some two-stepping. Some of us stayed up until about 1 in the morning back at the house, sitting out on the porch and talking under the stars and getting eaten by mosquitoes.

the view from the porch

And there was floating down the river in inner tubes, and getting sunburned in strange places; there was lying around afterwards; there were Bananagrams and Yahtzee and spoons with packets of creamer that threatened to explode all over the carpet; there was prep for dinner, and there was dancing through the kitchen.


yepAnd there was music, always music, always the singing or the CD player on in the background.

And there was the body of Christ, living and breathing together, loving each other, saving each other’s lives in a thousand small ways–a conversation, a dance, a song, a silent presence, a chopping of veggies, a lying down in the driveway and watching for meteors.

We visited a small church on Sunday, and we sang this together. Yes, Lord, we are thankful. We are free.

(*The title comes from this ridiculous thing that we listened to on the way there.)


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