It’s Pretty Awful and I Feel a Lot of Love Right Now...?
a personal essay on my return to camping and how I feel about writing theology
It’s been four years since we’ve gone camping. The last time we did it was a mess. We didn’t have enough equipment or food, our youngest (at the time) was a little baby struggling to get a full night of sleep, and we were camping with this group of crunchy suburban homeschool moms (who I now refer to as “nazi juniors”).1 It was bad. I put away most of our camping gear (or conveniently lost it) and assumed it wasn’t the life for our family.
Truth is: I couldn’t disassociate camping with being self-criticism and consumption of my identity to boost their little racist/sexist ego. (Being a token is hard but being a token while on vacation?! that’s whole ‘nother type of hell.)
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