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.