When Your Hobbies Burn

Or, how our trip didn't go as planned.

Have I told you about our camper van? Five years ago we bought a silver 15-passenger Chevrolet Express. We were excited to carry bikes to trails, pull our small travel trailer, and even help tow a family member’s boat if we needed to. The kids naturally named her Silvy.

Slowly, Silvy began to morph into a new idea. Instead of Silvy pulling our trailer and struggling with low mileage, we realized it was so much easier to just sleep in her. My husband installed a platform bed in the back for us, and we constructed hammocks to hang for the kids. We added an electric cooler and freezer to keep food for weeks. We installed a floor and extra shelves by our bed. We had solar panels, an awning, shower, bathroom, water system, microwave, and hanging bags for each family members’ clothes.

For some reason I decided to stop putting it off and take a video of our van right before we left so I could share it with you all. I didn’t know it would be the last time, but I’m so glad we have this now.

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We explored Yellowstone National Park, the Badlands, Arkansas, and Florida. We went on a backpacking trip in the mountains of upper New York and visited stops all along the way—all five of us tucked in tight each night in our twenty-foot home.

I had hoped to tell you guys all about Silvy, and all our adventures once my book was done. I was so excited to have the opportunity to begin to share all about the hobbies God fashioned my family to love: camping, backpacking, and hiking to name a few.

Two weeks ago we loaded up Silvy for our next family trip, this time to visit the National Parks of Colorado. We had planned this trip since last Christmas, and I was so elated that my manuscript would be completed before it. This trip would be such a gift, and the perfect ending to a year spent dwelling in the way we worship God through our play. We would get to climb into the cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde, ride a train through the Rocky mountains, hike to beautiful views, swim in the hot springs, and sled down giant sand dunes. In a last moment decision we decided to also backpack one night into the sand dunes, so we could see the sun set and rise together across the giant desert-like horizon.

But we never made it. Instead, just a few hours from our home, a pop rang in our ears— hitting us like a shockwave that felt like it came from inside our head. As we searched for the culprit, the putrid stench of smoke provided the answer. An auxiliary battery cell had exploded. My husband quickly pulled off the road and all five of us rushed out into the shoulder of the road followed closely by the black smoke that tumbled out of the van with us. In the back window of the van I saw orange flames licking higher by the feet of our bed.

Safe, with my children I called 911, while my husband opened the back hatch and began fighting the flames with our fire extinguisher, and then once again with a six gallon water jug. It felt like forever, but it was only minutes. The flames were too strong, and we all had to run farther from the smoke as our entire van was engulfed.

Everything was gone, and we had to watch it burn. The following days were very hard, but I’m so thankful for the Lord’s kindness in so many ways including our church and family who cared for us and loved us so well. One church member bought the kids new colored pencils and the game of Uno—with no idea that my children had lost both. God was caring for us.

By his kindness, in between insurance claim forms and itemizations, we found some very cheap hotel rates thanks to a family discount in Florida. So several days later, we filled our van with what little clothes we had left, some pantry stables and we just drove to the beach—to make space to talk, laugh, process, and find some healing together.

One of the things my husband and I talked about was the strange feeling of losing all the things we loved doing. All the materials we needed for camping burned. Everything we’d need to go on a backpacking trip that we’ve slowly acquired through the years went up in flames. My husband’s camera and his favorite lenses that have provided him immense amount of joy through the years—melted. Even my kids lost their favorite toys and the stuffed animals that have played along with them through the past few years.

It’s interesting to me that after spending the past year wading deep into the importance of play, I found myself watching so many of our items that makes our play possible disintegrate before my eyes. I don’t think the answer is to shrug our shoulders and say, “Well good thing that this stuff didn’t matter anyway.” The last year of my own study proves that’s not the case. Ultimately, of course, my greatest need is Christ himself (I wrote about this here ), but our hobbies still hold some weight. God uses them to shape and form us, to push us to see who we are and who he is.

So we grieved. I hugged my friend, and wept on the phone with another. We talked with our kids again and again. We prayed. When I couldn’t push away the image of the flames and the sound of tires exploding, I told my husband, and he held me. He told me how he missed his camera, and I told him how I really liked my backpack. We talked about how we wanted to go camping, and how we wished we were waking up in the Rockies.

Soon, those orange flames of the fire that flickered in my mind grew a little hazier. They were exchanged for the amber lights beaming around our hotel pool. One evening we sat beneath their glow around a table with a deck of cards. Blue 9. Blue 5. Yellow 5. Reverse. “Uno!” my son yells.

What do we do when our hobbies burn?

We cry—because in a small way they mattered. But we also keep on playing. We build another sandcastle, we marvel at the seagull. We make each other smile with a joke. We keep on joining together in rest and worship in the ways we can—because there will always be a reason to praise our Father who is always good.