A quiet riverside honeymoon gave us a chance to unplug, notice the world around us and carry a little stillness back home.
We didn’t tell anybody we were going to an Airbnb cabin on the Missouri River near Saint Joseph, Missouri, for our honeymoon in May. It was just our little secret.
We arrived at the cabin after dark, so it was pitch black when we exited the car. We found the key with the help of the flashlight feature on one of our phones and stepped inside. The décor was interesting. A total mancave. Not a flowery nick-nack in sight.
Above the fireplace hung two photos – a closeup of a pig and a closeup of a cow. You could see right up their snouts. A dog bed filled one corner, and a big TV hovered over the top of it. The recliner, of course, was pointed at the TV. On the opposite wall, hung a couple of framed pictures of the apparent owner with his dog.
We chose to spend the next five days off the grid. We had cell service but chose not to check our phones. I didn’t respond to text messages or email, which made it blissful.
Usually, near dusk, we relaxed by the river, which ran through our backyard. Clarissa chose the hammock (saving me the embarrassment of doing a 180 and face-planting in the mud), and I brought a lawn chair.
Since it was May, the mosquitoes weren’t out in full force, making evenings even more enjoyable for me.
The cicadas buzzed, nearly drowning out the river as it rushed past. Coyotes howled often, especially as darkness approached. And a train, which ran near our cabin about every half hour (even at night – a fact that the Airbnb owner conveniently left out), let out a soft whistle. [Here’s a link to a short video I shot at the riverside that captured all this.]
All of it, even the train, made me want to carry over the honeymoon rhythm into our new life. And in a small way, we have.
We came home to our new apartment that butts up against a forest, which affords us some amazing views. I’ve spotted turkeys, racoons and tons of deer. In fact, as I write this, a deer is feeding not twenty feet from me, just off our deck.
But we had to take the phones off silent. And I’m back to checking my email (although, I have 563 emails in my inbox, so there’s no hope of wading through all of them soon). We’re both back to work, of course, and that brings its own stresses.
So yes, life has picked up speed again, as it always does. But that little cabin by the river reminded us that stillness is always available, if we’re willing to choose it. Even now, with inboxes full and calendars packed, we’re learning to pause, to notice and to live a little deeper.
Maybe you can’t escape to a cabin by the river this weekend. But what would it look like to carve out a little stillness right where you are and commune with God? To turn off the noise, even for a moment, and just listen?
