Tag Archives: Fire

Fun by the Campfire

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What’s something fun you’ve done this Fall?

Where I live, this time of year is iffy weather wise. It can be cool enough for a fire outdoors, but wet and rainy, or dry and too cold regardless how big the fire is. We’ve been fortunate enough to have some cool and dry weather nights where the temperature is ‘just right’, and done impromptu fires — for ourselves and inviting friends that live nearby to drop over, if they can.

On our most recent night outside, my youngest and our exchange student did some bonding. He shared that he was feeling down over several back-to-back disappointments he’d experienced during the week, and our student offered him advice and to be someone he could talk to (it was so great seeing). Our exchange student loved the fire and is interested in roasting marshmallows in the future like they’ve seen in American movies (we can help them with that. 🥰). My favorite part was when our student encouraged my son to sing his audition song (that he plans to use for Spring Musical tryouts in a few weeks) for us. My youngest paused, but then found the song and sang it. You could hear his nerves as he sang — we were outside, with neighbors in hearing distance — but he did well and we told him so. Then I encouraged our student to do the same. She sang her song (with similar nerves), but I was so impressed of her willingness to do this in front of us while only knowing us a short time. I think she’s pretty fearless (I’ve told her as much).

There was singing, giggling, sharing stories, and just a general ‘nice’ feeling about it all. The fire died down, we all were content to go inside for the night. Oh, how I hope we have a few more of these types of evenings.

What is something outdoors you and your family like to do as the seasons change?

Chopping Wood

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Every good campfire needs wood, kindling, and fire. Everything worth learning takes patience, persistence, and love.

My husband learned to chop wood for fires growing up, whether it was for heating the house, or for cooking and warmth camping. My youngest is now learning how to chop wood, though for a different reason. He’s going to a rail camp and will need to drive and pull railroad spikes as part of the experience. We thought chopping wood — using an axe and learning to handle the weight, and movement — would be a good place to start. We also realized we’ve had few opportunities to teach our boys the skill of chopping wood, since it’s relatively easy to buy bundles near camp sites, and our house doesn’t have a fireplace that uses logs.

My husband and son went into our backyard to practice. My youngest reminded me a bit of myself when I was young and learning new things, being cautious and getting frustrated during the learning process. My husband worked with my son. Being on the spectrum, he can struggle with fine and large motor skills particularly when learning something new. My son frustrated that he was struggling and my husband irritated his guidance wasn’t yielding the intended result. But that happens, right? As parents we try to guide our children through life and it can be infuriating when they struggle to (or flat out don’t) understand, or listen, or follow our direction. We can get angry (because we’re human and it’s super frustrating when our words don’t land), but it also provides us an opportunity to stop, step back, and determine how to go forward. Continuing to do the same thing over and over and expect the result to be different is the definition of insanity, right?

My husband and son reached an impasse and decided to resume chopping wood the following day. My son will get the hang of it. My husband’s words will get through, just slower than he’d like. While the experience might be a bit painful for them both now, the outcome — my son learning to chop wood, and getting himself ready for what he’ll be doing at rail camp. I imagine my son will be proud he can participate with greater ease at camp ( than if he hadn’t learned), and his father will feel good about teaching his son another skill he can use throughout his life.

Teaching your child can be challenging and rewarding. What have you taught your child that pushed your patience, but paid off in the end?

Fireside Chat

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Where do you have your best conversations with your child?

On a camping trip my husband and my older son decided they wanted to hike a trail not far from our camping site. We had just finished a different hike and my younger son and I were happy to sit by the fire and relax. After sitting by the fire for a few minutes, I could see my son was thinking about something. “What are you thinking about?” I asked. I thought he might reply, “nothing” or that he was reflecting on the day. Instead he said, “I’m thinking about life.” He paused, “And what the point of it is.”

Our earlier hike had taken us to a military cemetery where service and family members were buried. There was a large section of infants and young children in the cemetery and I had wondered, as we’d looked at some of the headstones, how the kids might be impacted by seeing so many lives lost so young. The experience reminded my son of two of his peers who have passed. A classmate from pre-school who died of cancer, and an elementary classmate who died from drowning. As a parent, both of these children’s deaths had shaken me to my core and reminded me how fragile life is. In both cases, I grieved desperately for the parents and what they must be going through, and was so grateful my boys were healthy and alive. I never knew if my son really grasped the finality of either death and the feelings that go along with it.

My son continued, “I think of my friends. They didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t understand why what happened to them had to happen to them.” He was tearing up. “They didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “It’s one of the hardest things to understand in life — why bad things happen. Especially when it’s to good people or small children who haven’t had a chance to even truly experience life.” I paused. “You’ll never be able to make sense when these things happen. Life’s just that way. Sometimes bad things happen. I think their deaths are reminders of the gift we’ve been given — life. It’s a reminder to not take it for granted. To recognize the beauty around us, and to help others see it too.” I’d gotten his attention. “I miss them,” he said. “I know,” I said, “You’ll never forget them. They’ll always be with you. The hardest part is knowing they’re not here and that you won’t have new memories with them. But you can live for them and the lives they didn’t get to live. You just have to see what’s around you and appreciate it for however long you have on this Earth.” I knew what I was saying was a bit heavy, but he seemed to take it in and embrace it. Being in a nature setting while having this discussion really helped. I finished my thought with my son, “You know you show beauty often to others in how you treat them. You’re gift is kindness and happiness. You accept people as they are, where they are. That’s a gift. I hope you always remember that. Lots of people need people like you in their life. You might be the beauty in life they need to see.” He smiled. I used to smile too, when my father gave me insights about myself. There was something magical about being able to carry on the tradition with my son. “Life is hard sometimes. Life can be confusing and sometimes make you sad or angry, but the happiness will return. Just keep remembering to appreciate it, and treat it for what it is — a gift.”

My husband and older son walked into the campsite around this time. My younger son and I just sat there. “What have you been up to?” my husband asked. My younger son piped in, “We’ve been having a very important conversation. VERY IMPORTANT!” He gave me a knowing look. My husband caught my eye and I could almost read his mind — what exactly did you all talk about while we were away? In a way, I wish my husband had been there for the conversation, and my older son — it would have been a good conversation for us to have as a family — but if they had been there, maybe the conversation wouldn’t have happened, and I’m glad that it did.

Where do have your most meaningful conversations with your child?