Project Week

Before Christmas break there was....PROJECT WEEK.

The coldest and most dreadful week of the semester that quickly turns into a favourite. Although our project list seems miles long we are the masters of dividing and conquering and we are known to get the job done.

So, Jen, Brandy, Liz and I are on painting projects while the boys arm themselves with tools and fix up all our activity sites. We haul all the folding chairs from the craft cabin to a ravine we find behind the pump house and splatter paint to our heart’s content. One of the boys, Randy, tells everyone he can that the ravine looks like a clown car exploded. Cute. So cute.

We then paint the ping-pong and carpet ball tables that sit underneath the craft cabin so that it looks more inviting and less like a place you’d go if you want some drugs or to watch a knife fight, so needless to say it’s an improvement.

Our next project involves cleaning up an old and rarely used meeting hall. We find the world’s first piano there and decide it needs to be burned. We load it up with a bunch of rotting books and bring it out to the massive fire pit. That night we have a bonfire to end all bonfires. It sings and groans, it produces flames the color of the seas, and it heats up until it feels like we are standing next to the sun. Or like a regular summer day in Texas.

Our last memorable project involves not heat and fire but cold and water and mud. We move about a hundred tires from our pedal cart course halfway across camp to our paintball course. Throwing tires should be a new sport that, like every sport, I am terrible at. I end up swallowing more muddy water than any human ever should. And have a tree nearly crush my foot.

No big deal, it’s project week. Sharpen your knife. Don’t complain. Expect the unexpected. Wear old jeans. Try not to die.

I'll Be Home For Christmas...

And I never thought I’d say this but…there had better be snow. I have little doubt that there will be since its Minnesota. But, my mother has been reporting differently and being in the aforementioned two-season state of Texas has made me really appreciate my homeland and even wish for snow. I mean, Minnesotans get the full range of seasons, and that has been such a blessing that I didn’t understand until I left it all behind in pursuit of the endless summer.

And while the Christmas season here has been nice-singing Christmas songs at church, going to the candy-less parade (I’m not bitter), watching Elf and Home Alone, and getting to see a million or so lights decorating Camp Tejas- there is no snow, no sledding, no need for wool coats and big boots, and for a Minnesota girl it just doesn’t feel like Christmas.

So I’m excited for my two weeks of snow. Here’s hoping there is a lot of it. Enough to make at least a small army of snowmen to guard the fort.

Happy Holidays!
(via http://convolutedstateofmind.tumblr.com/)

Like

“I guess I just like liking things.”

This is a quote from Abed, the best character (in my opinion) on NBC’s Community. In this particular episode Abed tries to convince the rest of his study group to join the Glee Club to perform a Christmas Pageant. His best friend and sidekick, Troy, reminds him that everyone hates the Glee Club which prompts Abed’s line from above. (Watch the entire clip plus a Troy & Abed Christmas Rap here).

And it struck me.

Because I’m the same way. I’m an idealist. A dreamer.

I have to find the good moments when I’m lying in bed running through the day like a slideshow.

I have to find the good in people because, unlike some, I do believe it exists.

I have to find the good in each experience, whether it was something I enjoyed or not.

Because I just like liking things.

It’s so easy to be cynical and negative and assume that it makes you come across as a critical and realistic adult. But the best adults I know are generally joyful people with a knack for finding that something to like.

That’s the adult I’d like to be.

Now for a round-up of some things I like liking that some people like hating.

Baked Oatmeal (via http://www.lottieanddoof.com/)

Crafts (via http://www.marthastewart.com/)

Beards & Sweaters & Flannels &
Man Purse (via http://www.hm.com/us/)

Mugs with Pictures

Big Dogs (via http://modernhepburn.tumblr.com/)

Tattoos (via http://awelltraveledwoman.tumblr.com/)

Narwhals (via http://www.etsy.com)

Parks and Rec, specifically Ron Swanson
(via https://www.google.com/)

You Knew it Was Coming: A Post About Crafts

I am going to be that Mother who forces her children to have craft time. I will prompt their creativity and exploit it for my own purposes. I am going to make them decorate our house with their works of art according to the seasons, holidays, current trends, and/or my mood.

I will be an Arts and Crafts Nazi.

Ok, so that is not entirely true. I will not force my kids to do or like anything just because I do. But man, I love crafts.

There’s something about taking some wire and some rocks and making a picture holder out of it. There’s something about watching yarn become a scarf or felt become a fox mask that just makes me bloom.

You see the obvious connection here to the ultimate Maker/Creator/Crafter. We’re nothing but bits and pieces of good and bad until He gets His hands on us. Then we have purpose and goodness and beauty.

Now look at this craft.

And for my next project....

Camping

I realize how silly it seems to many people who don’t have my life that I went camping when I work and live at a camp. But you have to realize, we live in a nice house. It has IKEA furniture, a full kitchen, hot water all the time, and cable. We’re not roughing it at all. Sure, we have a gorgeous backyard with a lil’ lake and acres upon acres of trees and trails and the like. But we see this nature every day. Just like everyone else in the modern world, we needed a little getaway from our every day.

So, my good friend, Nate, and I went camping. It was a glorious time full of hiking, cooking over a fire, reading by the water, sharing stories and keeping our eyes and hopes alert to alligators.

I am blessed.

Just Another Day at Cho-Yeh

Here are just a couple of the most adorable people in the whole entire world working the high ropes course. From left: Yours truly, Jen, and Brandy.

And the Award for Best-Dressed Goes To....

I work at camp. I ruin at least 3 pairs of black Keds a year. I go through V-necks like nobody’s business and my shorts are perpetually a napkin for grease stains, dirt, paint, and of course, food.

But I love a well-cut black dress. I love cardigans and skinny jeans and floral and jewelry.

I’ll admit it. I’m kind of a girly-girl, although I’ve made huge forays into the naturalist-slash-outdoorsy-slash-athletic woman’s style.

But…it took years. I mean I made it through two whole summers working at summer camp without ever getting into a pair of basketball shorts or actual athletic shoes. I heard the phrase “You dress way too nice to work here,” at least twice a day and yes, I even won awards for being the best-dressed at camp.

In my defense, I worked in the craft shop. Also, in my defense, I wasn’t about to get a whole new wardrobe for a summer job when I was still dreaming of having a real job after college.

But then I got a job working at camp all the time. And changes had to happen. I was reluctant (as I seem to be with most things) but then I bought this fleece jacket from REI and I’m wondering how I wore a cardigan before. I got athletic shorts and could move like jeans never allowed me to. I got a Camelbak water bottle (yeah it has dinosaurs on it, but it’s still legit) and wondered how I didn’t die of dehydration here in Texas before. I got a headlamp and wondered how I made my way around camp with only the light of my cell phone all those nights last semester.

Sure, I’m still a woman which means I still desire to be beautiful. I still adore pretty things. I still swipe on some mascara now and then. But now there’s function to think about.  Adaptability is necessary. But I’ve learned that even the little changes can make a big difference.

I’ve learned that about a lot of things, not just clothes and shoes. Changing your perspective can change your whole heart. Changing your attitude can change your whole day. Changing yourself is a process that happens little by little in the everyday grind. That’s where God meets us and shapes us into something more and more beautiful if we let Him.

I’m still not entirely that girl. The one who rock climbs and has rock hard abs and perfectly tousled hair. But I do love nature and flannels and camping and damn, that cute dinosaur water bottle. 

Good Morning

I love mornings. I love getting up while it is still dark and taking a walk or going for a run while you watch the world light up around you. I love breakfast. And drinking coffee out of thrift store mugs. I will one day have a large collection of random coffee mugs and people will come over and will be excited when they get to choose which one they will use. 

It's the little things.

Texas

I love you. You’ve kept me warm all through the fall. Sure, your evergreens and pine trees go from green to rusty death, skipping all the colours of a fall in Minnesota. But, as a cold-natured girl, I am grateful for your sun-drenched days that last into November.

But this cold front and this lack of rain is killing me. No campfires?!? Even when it’s only 50 degrees and I have to start wearing socks and sweaters and fleece? Give us some rain and let us come out from under the burn ban so we can warm ourselves and eat our s’mores and feel like autumn has arrived.

I mean I can hardly get out of bed when I think about my bare feet on these cold floors.

But I need coffee. And as I wait for it to brew I find a patch of sunlight and stand in it and I almost forgive you for acting like the tropics one day and the North the next.

Like the Texans always say, “There are two seasons here. Summer and not summer.”

Be thankful & aware

of the seasons & the

feelings & lifestyle

that go with

each one.

Sleepytime!

As I write this I am about to take a mid-morning nap before returning to work. It’ll be 20 minutes at the most but will have an amazing effect on my ability to appear like a high-functioning adult.

Yes, my friends, I have developed the ability to nap anywhere for pretty much any amount of time. I can fall asleep in minutes and this has become my most valuable and treasured skill.

Examples of places I’ve slept in the past few months:

1. Floor of the camp kitchen waiting to serve meals
2. Backseat of the truck while picking up sound equipment
3. On any number of inflatable toys in the lake
4. At the desk at the camp store
5. In the activity closet

I’m certain there will be many more naps in random places to come as the days continue to be filled to the brim, save for those few minutes that spring up like popcorn on the stove.

But, as I said before, learning to sleep whenever and wherever has become my most valuable skill. I’ve had to learn to take those short, lulling moments and use them for sleep, which makes me feel refreshed and ready and alive (and sometimes even a tad spunky) once again.

This reminds me of taking the fullness of every moment we’re given. We’re all guilty of wasting time and I understand how tiring it can be to squeeze every last drop of sweetness from every moment. But try we must or we will become like statues that others pass by, lifeless stones without warmth and blood and hearts.

Like the infamous lines from Our Town, written by Thornton Wilder:

“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it--every,every minute?”

“No.  The saints and poets, maybe they do some.”

Let’s be poets and saints because we need all that rosy fullness of life to connect with people and the world around us, which connects us back to God.

Awake to life. Abundant life, for sure.

I'M AN ADULT

Being on retreats staff means running activities more often than not. Since I took a ropes course last January I am now belay certified which translates to many hours of working at the rock wall.

There I am in the heat of East Texas in my buckles and straps, sunglasses and solid expression as I use what I feel is my special code language to communicate with my fellow staff members.

I mean, I’m really wearing this harness. I’m walking around hooking in carabineers and tying complex knots as if I’m a natural. Like, I was climbing trees and rock faces since I could walk.

And there’s something about this façade of being a cool, know-it-all, professional that strikes me as being grown-up, which is something I rarely feel. So, I embrace it. I let the guest groups think I’m a strong athletic woman who knows her way around the ropes course, when really I took a week-long course and have climbed this rock wall only once and only because I wanted to do the zipline.

But let me go back to this desire to feel grown-up for a little while. Why is it that I don’t like feeling grown-up for very long? I mean, I’m 24, an adult in every sense of the word and although I look rather young I’ve traveled and graduated college and lived and moved to a place all on my own. Yet, I like feeling like a kid to some extent.

Maybe it’s because adults seem so settled and I’m anything but. Kids are always looking forward to the next thing, no matter how small it may be (ice cream after work? It’s all I can think about all day!). I never want to be an adult in the sense that I stop learning or act as if I do know everything there is to know. I want to be open and trusting and ready to experience new things, never set in my ways or done growing, especially in my spirituality.

When we’re kids at heart we are better willing and ready to be molded by our Maker.

So, I’m ok with only feeling grown-up with my sunglasses and harness on. That’s really all I need.

Up

I am afraid of heights. This isn’t an unusual fear to many people. We were created without wings, to be solidly planted on the ground, yet so many of us forget this as we board planes, ride roller coasters and Ferris Wheels, and climb trees and towers.

Our rock climbing tower is where I spend a lot of my time during the retreat season and although I can easily tie the correct knots, help people with helmets and harnesses and belay, I had yet to actually climb to the top and zip down.

I would stand at the bottom belaying others and telling them where to put their feet and hands, giving advice and shouting encouragement and now I knew it was time to do it myself.

As I stand there in my harness and helmet I start to feel myself wanting to back out. I run through my list of excuses but force myself to throw them out before they can set up camp in my head. I am determined.

I get clipped in and am ready to climb. I easily scale the first half of the wall then find myself in awkward places as I try to just make it to the top of the incline. I slip a few times and my heart is ferociously pumping bloods to my faint limbs.

I swing my knee onto the top of the incline and hoist myself up to a standing position. Then, I make a mistake. I look down and realize how high I am. I look up at my friend, Jen telling her I am done, I can’t do this.

And she ignores my words. And she is pointing out rocks for me. This one is perfect for your hand, put your foot here. I look up at her and know she has not given me a reason not to trust her and I want to do this for her.

I erase the distance between me and the ground.

I put my foot onto a rock and push up on my legs, like I’m always advising people to do.  I look only up, only into Jen’s beautiful face and loving smile and soon I am on top of the tower and breathing heavily on my hands and knees.

Jen is praising me and I am lost somewhere between laughing and crying and throwing up.

I feel the fear once more as I am about to step out onto the zip platform, but I don’t let myself think about it too much. I sit down at the edge and close my eyes after Nathan responds to my “On zip?” with a “Zip on!” Leaning forward into a free fall before feeling the rope catch I hear my own terrified and then joyful screams escape me as I am washed with exhilaration.

As I am walking back up to the tower after Nathan unhooks me from the zip line, I realize that although I may never get to the point where I feel undaunted by heights doesn’t have to mean I cannot move up and up and up.

Sure, it’s a simple truth, that we can do things in spite of fear, that trusting our Creator with our entire lives and futures isn’t a new idea. It’s the kindergarten of faith but it still stands as naturally as we do on solid ground.

Stories from the Summer

There are so many moments during the days that I step back and think, “Wow, this is my job. I’m so blessed. I get to have fun and hang out with kids and get paid for it!”

Then there are the moments when I stop because I realize I’m in the middle of something that, outside of the context of camp, is utterly ridiculous.

Like in summers past when I put on a child’s bumble costume and painted faces for the kids carnival.

Or when I was in a skit based around the ever-so-juvenile act of spitting.

Or, for example,  right now when I’m  in a trash bag under a truck topper lying on the dirty ground next to the maintenance shed hiding from campers.

THIS IS MY LIFE?!?!

I am 23 years old. And adult. A woman. A college graduate. And here I am- literally down in the dirt- in a pathetic attempt to avoid being pushed into the lake during the infamous game of Counselor Hunt.

 I picture myself through the eyes of my friends, family, teachers, etc. and am embarrassed and somewhat ashamed- I mean I know people who are younger than me and less mature to boot- and they are already raising families of their own, moving into houses with porches, and working 9 to 5 jobs where people take them seriously and sit around giant conference tables and wear suits.

And here I am acting like I’m the 7-year-old camper who is after me for stealing an Oreo from him.

I start planning what I’ll do if I ever get out of here alive.

I feel like a soldier in the trenches (apologies to those who have fought real battles- but I really felt that this was the never-ending game of Counselor Hunt). I’m suffocating in my own self-loathing by this point.

So I make plans- I’ll work for a prestigious publication writing public interest pieces and traveling all over the States. Or I’ll work for a non-profit company promoting clean water for children in Africa or maybe even start my own company selling clothing made by women in India recently freed from the sex trade. Something important and fulfilling and world-changing, of course.

Then I am awakened from my thoughtful daydream to the sound of footsteps, the creak of the window, the crinkling of trash bags.

I am caught.

A little boy’s face appears and he is smiling with sound- reaching out in joyful realization that he gets to shove me off the dock into the lake.

My planning takes a backseat as my heart is lifted up from the cobweb-filled truck topper. I emerge into sunlight in more ways than one.

What can I say? I’m a kid at heart- an idealist. And this place and these people keep me afloat. And maybe that is one of the many little reasons why I (somewhat reluctantly) stay in camp ministry.

That plus not paying rent plus having all my meals cooked for me plus having built-in friends, of course. 

Here We Go...

It all began in the summer of 2008. Now, this was before we had wireless internet and decent cell phone reception in Northern Minnesota. This was when I’d have to literally write everything down by hand which was something I was too lazy to do, due to the mere minutes of free time we’d have throughout the day, spaced randomly, yet beautifully like a candy-sprinkled donut. I had a spiral-bound journal with old world maps on the cover and pages with lines on one side and graphing paper on the other, as if charting the ever changing murkiness of the lake was my new quest.

Due to all of the above reasons I did not start a blog chronicling my everyday activities, thoughts, and observations and will have to give summaries of my entrance into camping ministry as well as my entrapments.

Since I was not keen on the idea of living at home another summer after my second year of college, I applied to work at Big Sandy Camp. I was hired as the Crafts Instructor and began my first and best summer of camping ministry. I realize it was probably my best due to the fact that it was my first and having no previous summers to compare it to, was blown away that a job could be so life-changing.

Here was a job where people cared about each other, where people never took themselves too seriously, were never too important to wash dishes or mop the floor.  Here was a job where silliness is encouraged, where hands are held, where playing games and putting on skits is all part of the day. Here was a job where you could get into a deep conversation in five minutes while checking your mailbox in the kitchen.

This job gave me the ability to adapt and to accept new challenges. It gave me lifelong friends that I still keep in contact with. It gave me a renewed spirit and blessings through faith, no matter how it is different for different people.

These are the good parts.

These are the most heavily weighted parts.

Which is why I guess I stay in this ministry for the time being.

Because there are the not so good parts too.

The unpredictable schedule. Late nights and super early mornings. Drama. Stumbling through your own grapplings with faith. Annoying campers. No free time. Wondering if the outside world even exists anymore. Demands. Demands. Demands.

And the list goes on.

But comparing this list with the one I mentioned before brings me back to my current position: Camp has too many good things for me at this point in my life to even think about leaving this ministry.

The good outweighs the bad. And, if I’m honest, the bad isn’t all that bad. It’s petty stuff, really, when compared with the depth of that well of goodness.

This is how I camp to be a reluctant camp staffer.

Let the adventures begin.