I didn’t have the opportunity to grow up by a lake, but my husband did. The lake is interwoven into the fabric of who he is. And I knew early on that I had no choice but to learn to enjoy and embrace the lake, the woods, and the countryside.

It wasn’t hard to fall in love with the lake. It’s a tranquil place even on the busiest of holiday weekends. At the lake, time stands still. Wounds heal. Life happens.

We play board games and watch old movies. We cannonball off the diving rock and fish off the dock. We jump in the lake and float for hours on end.

We learn so much about each other and nature and ourselves.

We learn we are strong and capable and brave.

We learn to solve problems and to stand on our own two feet (and skis). We learn that a wave might knock us down, but we can get right back up again.

We learn that some of the best and most beautiful things are just outside the wake and we find the courage to go there.

We get tossed around on the tube. We paddle around the cove. We go on long boat rides and let the wind whip through our hair.

We take long walks through the woods. We discover adventure at every turn.

We catch lightening bugs and frogs and we help turtles get across the gravel road safely.

We dunk each other and have splash contests and wash our hair in the lake with cheap shampoo.

We overindulge on ice cream from the Dollar General.

We go on drives in our truck off beaten paths.

We find beauty and goodness in the wide expanse of water, in the mesmerizing sunsets, in the twinkle of stars scattered across the sky, and in each other.

It’s hard not to leave a piece of yourself in such a magical place. It’s hard not to let it catch hold of you and sink deep into your bones.

I’m so grateful a place like this exists, that my husband invited me to fall in love with it, and that my children get to grow up there.

The lake is a gift to us. It’s a tradition that’s been passed down from my husband’s grandparents and his parents to us and to our children. It’s time together and memories in the making.

It’s our refuge from the chaos and the storms of life. It’s our little slice of heaven. It’s our home away from home.

This rustic, rugged, enchanted land is the very heartbeat of our family. I pray it always will be.