Way back again!

My goodness--I should be doing something more productive than this, like cleaning my room. It's gotten worse, and I just cleaned Saturday morning. I really dispise cleaning. Ok, enough of that.

I go back to camp in 57 days. That's really soon, and it makes me happy. I'm already starting to pray for everything that God has in store for this summer; I know He has BIG!!! plans for us as a staff, for the campers, and for each of us personally. The mountain is amazing. That's why all my friends are tired of hearing me talk about it.

The first night back last summer, I wrote the following in my journal "There are fantastic things that happen on this mountain. It's a comforting place, a healing place. It's free from the world's distractions, free from the world in general. I love being here."

The end of the summer, I wrote, "How do I explain how it feels to have a girl finally hug me right before she leaves on Friday, and to have one ask me to sit by her bed at night? How can I explain that I give my summer out of pure love? Yeah, its a sacrifice, but I gain back so much more. How do I explain the way I feel when I serve, when my grils don't even notice all teh work I'm doing? How do I explain the change in me?" and "I am not the girl I was when I left for teh mountain this summer. I can't explain the changes in me just yet, but I know they are there. God used me to touch lives this summer, and I'm forever grateful for that. But moreso, I'm grateful for the way He used my girls to change me. I was forced to grow up....God has showed me that I am beautiful, not because of how I look, but because He dwells in me. I know, I know. I should have already realized that. And on some levels, I had. But this summer, I had a chance to teach it every Monday. And each time, I would have grils tell me just how ugly they thought they were. It's so hard for me to see just how caught up the world is on surface appearances. What's inside is what really matters. My point to all this is, while I still look pretty much just like I did when I left for camp this summer, my inside looks much more beautiful. God is good!"

I said all that to say this: camp has touched me. I've learned many lessons there. And yet, it's important that we go out and find our own place to grow. And it can't just be a place during the summer. My growth from camp comes from the fact that I actively seek God when I'm there. It's easy to get caught up in everything going on in our lives, and to just expect others to cause us to grow. That doesn't work. Much of our growth comes from within. I do believe in fellowship, but I see that there is more to being a Christian than hanging out and eating, or whatever. I want to get out and find God more...He's everywhere...we just have to acknowledge Him!!!

"I don't want to go somewhere
If I know that You're not there
'Cause I know that me without You
Is a lie.
I don't want to walk that road
Be a million miles from home
'Cause my heart needs to be where You are.
I don't want to go."

Another look way back

From April 2006:

So, it's 3:47 in the morning, and the guy across the hall just asked me to come over and talk. Here's the convo:

bonesteal007: how was hanging wit shaun
GoldfishRulz: awesome...we talked for nearly 2 hours
GoldfishRulz: after we got back
bonesteal007: damn
GoldfishRulz: what?
bonesteal007: u should come over here
bonesteal007: and talk
GoldfishRulz: nah...i'm about to go to bed
bonesteal007: ok
bonesteal007: sleep well
bonesteal007: wat are u afraid of drunk guys
bonesteal007: or a drunk me
GoldfishRulz: no, i'm just about to go to bed
bonesteal007: ok well sleep well i talk to u later tuesday'
GoldfishRulz: good night
bonesteal007: good nacht

Seriously, why would you want to get drunk? Like I would go over and talk to him while he's inebrieated.

Mama!

Just so I can remember--

Last weekend, April 10, Peter said "Mama." It's since become much clearer! Oh, how I love this boy!

The back story

I promised Sunday that I would post the back story behind my Way Back When Post. This is it:

Angel Tree campers come on Sunday on buses, with individuals, etc, and are typically from cities. Most are African American, though there are other races represented (obviously, this shows the race break-down of our prison system). Each girl is given a backpack with a Bible and toiletries for the week. Some of these girls desperately need these items, because they barely have enough clothes to cover them until Wednesday when they go home.

Anyway, the summer I wrote this, I was a unit leader, so I didn't have any campers in my cabin. Instead, I helped out the three cabins in my unit. It wasn't easy by any means. We had night time struggles for sure, and I spent nearly every night sitting in a cabin helping maintain order.

But one camper sticks out in my mind. Nearly four years later, I can't remember her name, but she was in a different unit. This girl was probably 120 pounds. At the time, I was around 150. Keep in mind, we only had girls who were in grades 4-7, so she was considerably younger than me. This girl needed special attention all the time. She couldn't be left alone at all. I spent campfire night (my favorite time!) following her around as she carried my big fire-poking stick. At one point, she was sitting on the camp golf cart, while I surreptitiously removed the key from the ignition. Her taking it was a very real fear.

But the real problems came when it was time to leave. A couple from a church picked up some boys across the road, and then came to get her and a couple other girls. She desperately didn't want to go home, but she didn't want to stay either. I honestly think us loving on her was just as scary (being the unknown) as going home to her situation. Anyway, I wound up wrestling her into the van while she screamed and fought me. It was bad enough that the driver was threatening to not take her. Yeah...not the right thing to say.

But what prompted my post was the feelings that I had toward her. I knew this girl needed love; that was undeniable. I knew she was abused at home. What I wasn't prepared for was the strong desire I had to hit her and tell her to straighten up. I've never wanted to physically hurt someone, but I could have that day. It's not a feeling I had never had before, and I hope to never have again. As the van drove off (with her sitting in the front seat, calm and buckled in!), I broke down. Another counselor came up and hugged me telling me that she understood how hard it was to send them home. That wasn't it for me at all. I was scared of my reaction, relieved that she was gone. I had always wondered how someone could hurt a child. In that instant, I discovered how easy it could be to give in to those feelings. I resisted. Many don't.

One day, I believe I'll end up in a job where I help people who struggle with this kind of stuff. For now though, I'll just remember sitting on a stump by the pool, crying because it's hard.

A look way back

Adrienne at Irwin Beans started a blog series today entitled "Old School Sunday." I like the idea, so I'm going to try to post a few of my old musings.

I wasn't super dedicated to keeping my old blog (on xanga, no less), but I had some rather deep thoughts in my first couple years of college. They were definitely wordy, but I was working through a lot of stuff.

So the post I'm sharing today is from 2007, written during my final summer at camp. I had just declared my double major at that point, so you can see the sociological/criminal justice sides of me both in this entry. I can also remember being so sure of what I was supposed to do with my life. It's funny now, because while community policing still appeals to me, I never thought I would wind up in an office job. Re-reading it, a lot of feelings came flooding back. I'll have to get into them at a different time. Let's just leave it for now as that was the first time at camp I had broken down at the end of a week (in four years), and I had a hard time explaining it to my co-workers who were living it. It'll take some work to word it in such a way that it makes sense to people who weren't there.

All that said, here's the post (from Thursday, July 5, 2007).

I'm so confused...we had Camp Angel Tree this week. It's a sponsored camp in which every girl that comes to CMV has at least one of her parents in prison. (The guys also host at Caraway.) Many of the girls know about where their parent is, others do not. Some live with one parent, some live with grandparent(s), others with other family members, or are in foster care. Some come in and are perfect little angels. Others come in with so much pent up anger and other deep-rooted issues. Some are Christians, others never go to church. It was a tough week. But the reason I'm confused is that we as a society seem to be failing these children. Some staff were made at decisions that parents had made. I'm not; in some ways, I believe these girls can have better chances at life BECAUSE of their parent being in prison. They go to a foster family that can show them real love, or live with other family members that can take real care of them. But I'm not saying that I don't have issue with choices their parents have chosen to make. There is a problem when you rape someone in front of your child, or rape your child. There is a problem when you murder in front of your child. There is a problem when choices you have made so deeply hurt your child that they don't know how to safely release their feelings. No, I'm angry that we had fourth graders that didn't know how to read, and girls that had panic attacks because something spooked them, or girls that just wanted to hurt other girls. I'm angry because I found myself getting really frustrated with them, when I really just needed to love them even more. I'm angry because we couldn't show each of them the amount of attention they needed, cryed out for. I'm angry because they are the forgotten children. Yes, I know that I'm a criminal justice major, that I want to put people behind bars. I still do. Some of the parents of these girls I would have liked to personally caught. But just because their parents did something wrong is no reason for society to forget about the children. Our educational system is too bogged down to help the girls that can't read--that would require individual instruction, and teachers don't have the time or resourses for that. There's a problem when a girl is kicking and screaming, but the people who came to pick her up don't want to care enough about her to even try to calm her down, instead just say that they don't want her in their vehicle like that. There's a problem when a girl is screaming over and over because she is terrified, and some people just want to send her home--making her feel unwanted. All in all, I see that we have problems in our society, but of course, we all already knew that. But what can we do. We, meaning our generation, are going to have to make a difference. We need to get involved with communities. We need to see that love is the way. I know that's hard. I know that sometimes, love is the toughest thing to give. But I also know that it can make a difference. I've seen it. Repeatedly. More than anything, this week just reinforced to me that I am meant to work in communities. Law Enforcement agencies are developing a system called COP--community oriented policing. It works more to keep the community involved to help cut down on crime, to keep the community informed. It's having programs in schools to help children. I know that it's hard to change things. I know that I can't change anything on my own. All I know is that, one day, I would like to be able to talk to kids that are struggling, but see that they are going to be ok, because enough people care about them. I want them to feel loved.

A boy and his cat

Peter and I spent some time outside earlier in the week, and Sam wanted to get in on the action. He loves to be wherever Peter is, and let's Peter pull his fur and spit up on him.

I love that they're both licking/chewing on their hands/paws.

My little man

These are just a couple of my favorite 6 month pictures of Peter!