My parents live in their motor home full-time; they don't have another home. Most of the time they park their motor home in a camping spot at a campground about 50 minutes away from my house. My dad cuts grass in the summer and takes pictures for the campground (See his pictures at http://nelsonskinner.com -- he's pretty good!), and generally makes himself known as an endearing combination of a big 6-foot teddy bear and a beloved nuisance. Everybody in the campground knows him.
My dad is sociable enough for two people, and it's a good thing he is, because my mother doesn't get out much. She's sociable in her own way, which is primarily online, but she doesn't do a lot of face-to-face visiting. She keeps busy being the CEO of an online not-for-profit writing school, Creative Writing Institute (learn more at http://www.creativewritinginstitute.com -- she's pretty good, too!) She also loves helping people, so as a result, she counsels about half the world's troubled youth in online conversations. Only heaven knows how many people she's touched over the years, and what a difference she may have made.
These two opposites have found a way to survive each other in a 38-foot motor home for approximately 15 years. One of the things they do have in common, however, is a wanderlust for change.
Growing up, I lived in five different houses (that I remember), and attended 5 different schools. We took extensive family vacations every year, and I saw the 48 contiguous states, Mexico, and much of Canada before I graduated college. We ministered in, or helped start at least four churches, and my dad worked at least five jobs I can recall. The constant in my life was change.
So now, when my parents get tired of the scenery, they just change it. They unhook the water and sewer, anchor everything inside the motor home, pack up the cat, hook the Jeep on the back and go. Somewhere. For a while. Then they come back.
Right now they're gone, and have been since the end of December. I think they're in Texas or New Mexico, maybe, and I think they might not be back until March sometime. That's what they do.
Today I saw the back of a man getting into his SUV at the bank. He was a big 6-foot tall guy with gray hair, and for one second, I thought it was my dad. It wasn't, but it sure made me miss him, and I've been thinking of him ever since.
I'm so blessed to still have my parents, and so grateful for all I learned from them, and for the irreplaceable education I received traveling throughout the US with them. I'm grateful they taught me ministry, giving, a good work ethic, how to think for myself, how to shoot a gun, how to stretch a meal, how to clean and fry a squirrel, and how to have fun as a family. I'm thankful they are still teaching me and setting examples for me.
Mostly, though, tonight I just miss them. A lot.
Hurry home, Mom and Dad. Safe travels. I love you.
Left: The Big Teddy Bear Middle: My Sweet Mom Right: My Parents' House
How very humbling. I've been wanting to call you but didn't because I didn't want to take up your time. I miss you as much as you miss me. If I never did anything else right in this world, I did one thing. I gave birth to you. Love, Mom
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