Glacier National Park

Waking up in the Wal-Mart parking lot was a real treat. Parked next to us was an old school bus converted into a ministerial soapbox of misquoted scripture and angry rantings on every window, side-square and hub. It looked like a space ship on the wrong planet. I walked around it, inspecting it and wondered whether or not to inform the long-bearded man sitting in the driver’s seat that he should get a loud speaker so he can shout his thoughts and beliefs at everyone as he drove the highway. Surely his bus alone can’t save the world… he needed a damn loud speaker.

We were in Kalispell, Montana on our way north to the National Park. It was beautiful weather and I was getting gitty. Our kids were rested and asking if we were almost there. We hung out a little longer in the parking lot and ate a bowl of cereal while gazing over at the god bus from our window. Try explaining that site to a bunch of kids. I brushed Riley’s hair and made it smooth again. We were in for a good day.

The KOA at the foot of Glacier National Park brought out a cry of celebration from the kids.

“Do they have a pool?” they asked in unison.
“Yes!” I shouted back.
“Can we take our seatbelts off?” again in unison.
“Yes!” I shouted again.
“Can we ride our bikes?!” once again in unison.
“Yes!” I shouted one more time.

This was one happy van pulling into the campground. We checked in and got to our site. In a flash the kids were yanking their bikes off the bike rack from the camper and were all ready to ride around the campground to the pool. The trees towered above us, spacious enough to create some dappled sun along the grounds. The nettles made the camp smell fresh and clean. I suddenly realized I didn’t know what day it was. Not only the day, but also the date or the month. I knew it was getting close to the end of June, or maybe it was the beginning of July. I asked Sean.

“What day is it?” my face crinkled with childish embarrassment.
“Ummm…I don’t know,” he looked puzzled, “Fourth of July is coming up, we need to find a place to watch some fireworks.”

Of all the places we had stayed, we enjoyed this place the most. Fionn rode his little bike all over the campground with Liam and Riley but kept getting his training wheels caught in the dirt.

“Take ‘em off, dad!” Fionn yelled.
“I don’t think you are ready yet,” Sean said looking him over.
“Take ‘em off! I can ride it!”

Now Fionn is an interesting kid. He is always taking a position opposite of yours. He’ll tell you that the sky is green just to buck the system. If he’s hungry and you ask if he wants food, he’ll say yes—but as soon as you give it to him, he’ll say no and refuse to eat, despite how hungry he is.

He spoke in full sentences two years earlier than his siblings. He sits off on his own with a book. He writes his own songs. The flip side of this wonderful intelligence is his lack of athletic talent. If you throw a ball to him, he closes his eyes and the ball bounces off his body. Wrestling with him, he is like a rag doll with a mouthful of threats and colorful tough guy talk but no ability to even kill a gnat. He would fall standing still. We always lost him at the dinner table. One minute he would be sitting eating, the next on the floor with his plate on top of him. His run was choppy and slow, his shoulders tight to his neck. But it is Fionn’s stubbornness, his determination, however, that has given his athletic brother, Liam, a run for his money. Fionn’s strength is his tenacity. Fionn never gives up.

So Sean took the training wheels off. I watched from the camper’s kitchen window. I figured it would be a short run followed by crying. After a minute I poked my head out and heard a bike fender rattle as it went over a bump. I turned. It was Fionn.

Alone, with a determined look, Fionn rode his bike in without assistance. Sean came running around the corner with a broad smile. My jaw dropped.

“Fionn!” I said cheerfully, “You are riding all by yourself!”
“Watch me, mom!” and he was off again.

At three years old, Fionn had Riley and Liam beat. The youngest of the bunch to ride a two-wheeled bike in the shortest amount of practice time. He rode like he had been doing it all summer. He was in the pack of the big kids now with bragging rights. Kudos, Fionn!