Singing to the Lake

I was looking through some old pictures the other day, and the lake caught my attention. You see, my grandparents own a farm a few miles from the lake. Every summer we would spend entire weekends camping and doing all sorts of outdoor living things. We took hikes through the hills, pranced around feeding the fish at the local hatchery, and spent lots of time at the lake. I never really spent time in the water, as I cannot actually swim.

The older I get, the more fond I become of the murky deep. When I was a kiddo I absolutely hated the water, and I would spend hours playing in the rough lake sand. Eventually I discovered the beauty of being on the water because I hated being in it so much. Turns out, I love boats and jet-skis. Really, I l.o.v.e them. I always have.

I remember a handful of times my dad took me out on a Sea-Doo we had borrowed from a family friend. A few times he would let me drive it, and I was always thrilled when we would hit a wave or do a figure eight. I remember hitting a huge big wave and going airborne, nearly falling into the water. There is one time though, one memory, that really is etched in my mind. I remember where we were on the lake, what campground we were staying at, and the silly matching red life vests my dad and I had. I was singing. I remember singing to the lake. My dad kept turning his head around to hear what I was saying, but when he realized I was singing he just smiled and kept on driving. He tried to play it off like he didn't hear anything, but I'm convinced he heard me. I was just making stuff up, off the top of my head, barely 12 years old. It was peaceful, and it was perfect. And today, I would love to have been riding on a Sea-Doo on the lake just singing to the rough water.

It's been a pretty reflective week around here, and I cannot help but wish for the warmth of sunshine and long afternoons at the lake. Until the summer comes around I will ponder on the desires placed in my heart.
To see the world. To sing to it. To be a blessing. & To live a life worth of my calling.
Some things never change. Sometimes the desires of a 12 year old girl carry over well into her adulthood. It's been 10 years and I still love all the same things... well, except now I have tons of wonderful people encouraging me to do the things I once only dreamed about.