The thunder rolled over us in waves all night long. The children slept soundly to the rhythm of the drum beat of rain on our camper roof. It was the kind of night found in story books, with the deep dark penned in inky colors and the house illuminated with golden flicker of a single candle in the window pane. I slept intermittently as the ghosts of lives past joined hands to dance around the margins of my mind in the darkness, illumined by the flickering of my consciousness between thunderclaps. Morning broke early and grey, the heavens are still dripping.

Our camper

There are days when our nomadic life seems like madness, to us, as surely as those who know us. Then there are other days when it fits like our well worn Keens and we could wander another million miles and never feel a blister. Today is such a day. The soundtrack of life includes the constant drip from the maple leaves arched high above our roof, the scritch-scratch of Ezra’s pencil crayon as he shades the state of Mississippi gold, and the quiet lilt of Plumb playing in the background… Hannah loves her music, and so do I. Gabe is sitting in my bed typing in his writing assignment. Hannah is mousy quiet in her bunk with her math book open, her status report three seconds ago: “I’m almost done! Two more problems!” Elisha is laboring over equations with missing variables; road schooling at it’s best. To some, a 21×7 ft camper for six people seems ridiculously small, to us, it seems decadent after a year in tents. We have an oven, and in it are a batch of zucchini muffins baking to take to friends this evening. Anywhere with an oven, is NOT roughing it. Pioneer families lived in similarly small spaces without a tithe of the conveniences we have and twice as many kids.

Hannah & B watching ducks.

This has been a summer of being reminded to count our blessings. We have work, and plenty of it when many around us don’t. We have friends and family who love us and who are only too happy to come camp out with us on a regular basis. We have healthy kids and happy hearts. We have the amazing privilege of wandering through this world meeting new people, making new friends and exploring places we’ve always wondered about… this summer, Rhode Island. The children are thankful for other kids to play with who speak English and lots of opportunities to work for our camping neighbours and make a little pocket money. I’m thankful for less space to clean, lots of time to read and write and all of the new friends who’ve come our way that we’d never have encountered if we’d been anywhere but right here.

The sandy ground around our camper is carpeted in a confetti of red, yellow and orange leaves dropping from the trees overhead. Fall is here. The campground we’ve called home for almost three months is closing in eight days. Our dinner table conversations, once again, have turned to answering the unanswerable, “What next?” question. We have our plans, a month long trip to the middle of the country, another ten weeks in the delightful seaside cottage we rented upon re-entry this spring, Christmas in Canada, and a winter trip to somewhere… Peru? The Central American countries? Who knows. If there is one thing we’re learning it’s the truth of Proverbs 16:9, “In his heart a man plans his course but the Lord determines his steps. We have lots of plans, but where they lead is often unexpected and always to exactly the right place. We’ve enjoyed our time in “one place” this summer and are looking forward to being back on the road this winter, even if we’re not sure where we’re going.