Family hikes have been our thing this summer. Every weekend we’ve sought out a new trail to hike with our three boys. And can I just tell you, it has been glorious, though it doesn’t always begin that way. Before we leave for hiking we get the usual pushback:
"I'm so tired from baseball. Can't we just rest at home?"
"Another hike! What?"
But it's only minutes before the boys are off and running in the wilderness. Jumping off rocks. Catching small fish with their bare hands. Climbing trees and racing each other down trails. Exploring and discovering and wait for it .... having the time of their life.
This past Sunday, as we pulled into the Rockefeller State Park, I reached for my hiking clothes, only to discover I’d forgotten to pack one small thing. Shoes for the hike. The flip-flops I'd worn to church weren't going to cut it.
Thankfully, my ten-year old son left his backpack from camp in the backseat of the car. And in his bag was none other than his extra pair of size six sneakers.
I slipped on his shoes, grateful I wouldn't have to sit this hike out.
My son wasn't sure how to feel about his mom wearing his shoes. But this I can tell you.
I knew exactly how I felt about it.