PICNICS

By Marion Kelley Bullock

Years ago, when our two daughters were little, we worked with a pastor who loved to go to the lake every Saturday (well, nearly every Saturday during the season.) And staff members were expected to go along. The first of these little jaunts was planned with great aplomb. I received my instructions. Bring fried chicken, potato salad, and chocolate chip cookies (all homemade). And don't bring the children! I hunted until I found a sitter who was free for the whole day, because we had no idea when we would return.

I enjoyed fishing, swimming, eating. But it hurt to see our pastor's three children (only a few years older than ours) taking part in the merriment, when ours must be left behind.

This quickly grew old. The day we usually relaxed and enjoyed activities with our family had been usurped. How depressing to head for the lake, already tired from preparations, come home sun-burned and worn-out, and try to interact with two small children who had been left out of the fun and who missed mommy and daddy all day.

When those days ended, I promised my husband that no one was ever again going to dictate what food I took on a picnic. Actually, no one has ever tried.

Yesterday, my love and I decided on the spur of the moment to go on a picnic. It was evening, late enough to avoid the hottest part of the day. Because our state park, while it boasts carefully planted and cared-for trees, has none large enough to boast about.

We took meats, bread, deviled eggs, chips, apples and chocolate candy bars. No gourmet meal, to be sure. My motto at times like these is "we eat to live," not "we live to eat."

We spread our tablecloth on a picnic table and set out our picnic basket and food.
Bowing our heads, we thanked God for our food and all the ways He's blessed us. We prayed for our children and grandchildren, scattered here and there. As we ate we gazed at the blue-green lake shimmering in the setting sun. Talk was relaxed, desultory. We strolled out to big rocks jutting out over the lake and watched the moon come up and brighten the darkening sky.

Now that's a holiday, even if it's just for one evening.