I have been infatuated by RVs ever since my mom and I wandered into a camper show at our local mall. Surprised at all the amenities that could be squeezed into such a compact space, I explored all the exhibits. By the time we left the show, I was hooked.

It would take years for my dream to come to life, but one day Neil came home from a jobsite practically jumping up and down with excitement. “You are going to be so happy when I tell you what I found!” His enthusiasm was comical – that is, until he told me what he discovered.

“A camper for sale!” he exclaimed. “The kind you drive. With three sleeping areas and in great condition. Hurry – we have to get it before anyone else notices it!”

We quickly loaded the girls into the car and headed back to where Neil had seen it parked on the side of the road. It wasn’t much to look at on the outside, and we lovingly dubbed it the “Beverly Hillbilly-mobile.” Inside, though, it had everything we needed. The sleeping compartment above the driver was perfect for preteen Gina. She could pull the curtains and ignore the rest of us when the mood struck. The back bed was perfect for our younger two daughters to sleep together, and with the sofa bed open, Neil and I had our own spot, too. It had a stove, a sink, a refrigerator/freezer, and even a tiny bathroom. There was already a coffee maker tied to the counter and a little TV wedged onto a shelf. Neil was right; it was perfect for us.

How I loved that camper! For a while we kept it in the driveway so I could sit and relax in it whenever I wanted to. It was always stocked and ready to drive off at a moment’s notice. We stayed at local campgrounds for weekend trips and traveled as far as Pennsylvania and Disneyworld when we had time for longer ones.

On one trip, we were detoured off the Interstate onto a charming country road along a meandering river. When we came across a pull-off, we decided to stop and enjoy the picturesque setting. While I made the coffee, Neil pulled out our beach chairs and a little café table from the storage bin. We sat relaxing in the sunshine while the girls played on the water’s edge. By then, the traffic had dissolved and a we were surrounded only by the sound of laughter and duck calls. Sometimes when I go to my “happy place” I am right back in that chair with my coffee and my family.

Gradually the girls grew up and had schedules that precluded camping trips with mom and dad. Eventually the beloved camper sat unused for too long and we knew it was time to let it go. The man who bought it planned to restore it to its original 1987 Mallard beauty as his retirement project. His wife was thrilled. “I love it” she said one day when Neil saw her a few weeks later. “He works in that thing all day and it keeps him out of my way!”

Not long afterward, Neil and I started daydreaming about getting another smaller version, one that would be appropriate for just the two of us. Oddly, the dream didn’t die when Neil did, and on long drives I’d scour the roads looking at different models and taking mental notes.

No, not a popup – too much work.
No, not a fifth wheel – then I’d need a truck.
No, not a bus type camper either – too hard to maneuver.

Now I have a precise vision in mind. The camper has to be small and easy to drive, not something I tow, and with enough room for me to travel and sleep and write. I want to be able to stop at a rest station and make my own coffee instead of buying the watery stuff sold in the vending machines without even getting out of the camper. I want to sleep in a Walmart parking lot if I get tired on a trip. I want to have everything I need packed right there under that one roof.

“That’s kind of a weirdly specific daydream,” my sister-in law said recently. “Why are you so obsessed with that kind of camper? The other options would be a lot more affordable.” I gave that question some thought, and words like independent, self-reliant, secure, and cocoon all came to mind.

Back when Neil and I had the “Beverly Hillbilly-mobile” we were cozy and self-sufficient in our camper cocoon. We felt in control. We had everything we needed and were safe in our own little world. And darn, there it is: my self-contained camper idea is really a daydream about being peaceful and secure and in control. And I know all too well that there is no such thing. The perfect camper would be fun, but control and self-sufficiency are just illusions.

And as I’ve thought about it more, I realize I have an even better cocoon now. Since Neil’s death, God has carried me in His arms, and my faith and trust in Him have grown. He’s really the only shelter I need. Wrapped in the safety of His love I am anything but self-sufficient, but I am most definitely secure.