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Going at Least Halfway

On By Michael FlemingIn ParentingLeave a comment

Close to Lake St. Peter in Hastings County, there’s a hiking trail leading to a beautiful lookout. It is not a long trail (about 2.5 km), but it is described as “strenuous,” crossing “rugged terrain.”

The first day, my 11-year-old daughter and I didn’t even make it halfway.

The next day, I said, “Let’s try the hike again.”

“Dad, no! It’s uphill the entire hike! I don’t want to go hiking.”

I put out my hand, palm up. “Put your finger on my palm. Now move up.” My daughter puts her finger gently on my palm and then raises her finger in the air.

“Now, if you had to get back to my hand, which way would you go? See, it’s impossible to keep going up. It can’t be uphill the whole way. I think if we can make it to the halfway point of the hike, the rest will be easy.”

I convinced her.

That day, we completed the hike. It was strenuous for her, but we experienced the beautiful lookout at the halfway point. And, sure enough, the second half was downhill.

In life, you need to cross rugged terrain sometimes. It can be hard. But you need to go at least halfway to find beauty. And you never know, it may be all downhill from there.

Insights from Summer 2020 Camping

On By Michael FlemingIn Parenting, SpiritualityLeave a comment

I have this romanticized view of camping. Escaping the hustle. Connecting with nature. Relaxing by the fire. Not worrying about sentence fragments.

My experiences with camping over the past few years, however, have been the opposite of relaxing. All the prep work. Packing the car. Unpacking the car because everything doesn’t fit. Repacking the car. Setting up the camp site. Broken air pumps. Holes in air mattresses. Lack of sleep. Getting rained on. Grumpy kids. Grumpy wife. Worrying about sentence fragments.

My summer 2020 camping experience was painful. I had planned on taking my two young children camping for a week at a provincial park. I chose a park close to home just to make things easier if I had to cut the trip short. In fact, after less than 24 hours I returned my six-year-old son, crying and covered in mosquito bites, home to his mom. The glare on my wife’s face that day knowing that she would not get a reprieve from the kids that week still haunts me.

I was ready to sell all my camping equipment and put an end to camping forever, but my eight-year-old daughter, for some reason, loves camping. So, after dropping off my crying son to my scowling wife, I returned to the campsite with my camping-loving daughter.

Over the next few days, something magical happened. I can’t say everything completely turned around and camping morphed into this amazing experience. But there were moments of amazingness. Connecting with nature. Connecting with stillness. Connecting with my daughter. Being one with the sentence fragment.

It makes me think that life is one big camping trip. It’s painful. It’s chaotic. Excrement hits the fan and when everything is cleaned up, s’more excrement hits the fan. Yet if we are aware, if we are attuned to what’s really happening, what really matters, it’s full of wonder, surprise, and beauty. And that’s why, like my daughter, I love camping.

The Biggest Fan of My Blog: Not My Wife

On By Michael FlemingIn Interpersonal RelationshipsLeave a comment

Last week I wrote about a recent camping experience in a post titled My Greatest Challenge When Camping: My Wife.

Shortly after it was made public, I received an email.

Thanks for painting me in such a beautiful light she wrote sarcastically.

Thanks for being a good sport I wrote.

Yeah, right. Everyone’s going to think you married a b****.

Don’t worry, babe. No one reads my blog.