A camp story
Our schedule taped to the door said Suspension Bridge Sleepout w/ Shoshone but the cabins were split in their support. All twenty of them were in Teton after Pathfinder Pow-wow petitioning what they wanted while Sarah and I tried to make a decision.
"It'll be cold... There are bugs... It's dirty... I'm too tired... I don't want to... I just want to stay in my bed..." argued half of the girls while the other group pleaded, "I've never gotten to sleep out... It's already on the schedule... You promised... I'll never get to again... It's on the suspension bridge... We have tooooo..."
"Ok girls," said Sarah Roberts and they all got quiet. "Here's what we're going to do. Anyone who wants to go sleep-out from either cabin will go with Sarah Wright. The rest of you will come sleep-in Shoshone and sleep on our floor if you're from Teton." The girls scattered to grab their stuff relieved that both sides had won.
I met the group of brave, outdoor-loving, adventurous, hyper girls on the back porch: Mary, Margaret, Livvie, Ellie, and Lizzie from Teton and Jackie, Amber, and Nora from Shoshone. We all clicked on our flashlights before walking into the woods. Our trip was anything but quiet with girls laughing and shrieking as they tripped over tree roots and jumped out at each other in the darkness.
We had already done devotions back in Teton with the whole group. Once we got to the bridge the girls immediately claimed their sleeping spots--no one wants to be in the middle in case the bridge collapses and being on the end is too scary because a raccoon might crawl up in the middle of the night (neither of which would ever actually happen). I took the middle spot to roll out my sleep bag and zipped my flashlight, glasses, sandals, water bottle and alarm clock inside my backpack so they couldn't accidentally fall off the bridge into the lake.
I sat with the girls in a circle, leaning up again the chain link sides of the bridge, and pulling my sweatshirt sleeves down over my hands before I crossed my arms thankful for the breeze over the lake, a relief from the humidity. We told stories about life at home and laughed about things that had happened during Amazing Race with Araphao earlier that day. We looked up at the black sky until we spotted a shooting star. Livvie did a monkey call so loud that it echoed back across the lake. I'm sure that counselors sitting on their porches in River Village probably could have heard it. We stayed up past mid-night talking, thankful that we had chosen to come sleep on the bridge even if it was cold, dirty, and there might have been a spider or two.
As a camper I experienced a sleep-out on the tennis courts and I think one on Ft. Disco but I barley remember them now. As a counselor, the nights that we sleep-out are some of my most vivid memories maybe because they're more recent or perhaps because I have a greater appreciation for them. No where else do groups of kids get to live in community like this for a week (or two if they're extra lucky). No where else do people sleep on suspension bridges under stars this bright with friends so special and with so much peace. As a counselor I want to take opportunities to make nights like that happen for my campers.
Early the next morning we woke up to my beeping alarm. Our pillows and sleeping bags were wet with dew and our backs ached from sleeping on the boards of the bridge. With our eyes half shut we silently walked back to our cabin, too tired to talk this early. Our cabin mates were just waking up when we walked in and the girls suddenly came alive telling stories of our night on the bridge.
We quickly got dressed and headed back out to get to breakfast, excited for baked oatmeal day.
"Did you know that camp has monkeys?!" I heard from a group of boys at flagpole. "It's true," one of them said, "I heard them yelling in the woods last night."
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
I'm loving these words...
Well, Happiness just done went and blew up in this place.
Happy to be living anywhere but inside the box. Because Outside is where the party is.
-Kelle of Enjoying the Small Things
So when people ask, "What will we do in heaven?" one possible answer is to simply ask: "What do you love to do now that will go on in the world to come?"
What is it that when you do it, you lose track of time because you get lost in it? What do you do that makes you think, "I could do this forever"? What is it that makes you think, "I was made for this"? -Rob Bell, Love Wins
we are friends. walking through life together. even though we maybe in different stages of life we are doing life together. these relationships are special. not something everyone gets to experience.another thing became real clear to me this weekend...we have moved past that i am just your young life leader. but we are friends and i hope to always be in your lives and you in mine. -Libby Ryder of Don't Waste Your Cancer
"I love the idea of the big life - the life that matters, the life that makes a difference. The life where stuff happens, where people take action. The opposite of the life where the girl can't even speak to the boy she likes; the opposite of the life where the friends aren't even good friends, and lots of days are wasted away feeling bored and kind of okay, like nothing matters much."
-Fly on the Wall by E. Lockhart
Happy to be living anywhere but inside the box. Because Outside is where the party is.
-Kelle of Enjoying the Small Things
So when people ask, "What will we do in heaven?" one possible answer is to simply ask: "What do you love to do now that will go on in the world to come?"
What is it that when you do it, you lose track of time because you get lost in it? What do you do that makes you think, "I could do this forever"? What is it that makes you think, "I was made for this"? -Rob Bell, Love Wins
we are friends. walking through life together. even though we maybe in different stages of life we are doing life together. these relationships are special. not something everyone gets to experience.another thing became real clear to me this weekend...we have moved past that i am just your young life leader. but we are friends and i hope to always be in your lives and you in mine. -Libby Ryder of Don't Waste Your Cancer
"I love the idea of the big life - the life that matters, the life that makes a difference. The life where stuff happens, where people take action. The opposite of the life where the girl can't even speak to the boy she likes; the opposite of the life where the friends aren't even good friends, and lots of days are wasted away feeling bored and kind of okay, like nothing matters much."
-Fly on the Wall by E. Lockhart
Sunday, April 3, 2011
"Ok, so we're going to spend all day with you. I hope that's ok." -Sar
Common Ground, lunch and hanging out with the Nikcevich's all day long. Sar and I love being around both of these families and today she and Caitlin were with them all day long. See the little alley between the two houses in this picture? Sar is going to build a little bridge between the two so she can permanently live with both families.
These are great people. Like the I-just-want-to-soak-up-how-fun-kind-intentional-precious-God-seeking-family-loving-relational-and-wise-all-of-you-are kind of people.
Molly is back and tan from Florida! Oh how I missed this girl's laugh, car dancing and commentary on everything.
This next picture reminds me of one of my favorite movies, You've Got Mail- "Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms"
But let's be honest, I'm all about a bouquet of friendship bracelet string.
We cut the string way too long, which created many unnecessary knots, but ended up with this friendship bracelet headband. Thank you Emily Westervelt for the inspiration. We think these are going to be big this summer.
Later that night we sat on a porch swing and chairs on the Nikcevich's porch. Annie walked over from next door, "Oh, summer nights." It felt just like a summer night- warm enough for shorts and a sweatshirt, laughing and talking with nothing else to do.
Ch 7
A camp story
Every afternoon the CILTs go join their adopt-a-cabins to play kickball, swim at the pool, have a dodge ball game, or pillow fight. This time is their chance to serve as a role model to the younger campers, learning through action, and to work with the cabin counselors, learning by watching. After rest hour they load their backpacks with towels, closed toed shoes, and a change of clothes for after swim time before running out to meet up with their group.
In a matter of minutes all 42 CILTs make a great exodus leaving the CILT counselors behind. Suddenly camper-less we find ourselves in unknown territory. What do counselors do without campers? When I first became a CILT counselor I was completely thrown off. For summers I had been conditioned to have at least ten girls trailing behind me as we traveled to the zipline and crossed camp to lake time. They are a constant stream of questions, entertainment, reminders, conversation, questions, and adventure. As a counselor, your campers are your responsibility for seven straight days.
What do you do when they all leave? Go tag-along with another cabin.
Part of a CILT counselor's job is to observe the CILTs in action. All afternoon long we join cabin activities to both participate and watch the CILTs involved. We get the best of both worlds- working with 16-year-olds and younger kids at the same time.
The first day that I ever tagged along with a cabin I joined Kickapoo, my friend Sara McSoley's cabin. McSoley is an all-star in the counselor world--her laughter is contagious, she makes every camper feel included and special, and has the power to make any day feel like the best day of your life. I wanted to see her in action on a mud hike. Mary, a longtime camper of mine, was the CILT for this group of Blazer girls and I was so impressed watching her comfort a homesick girl.
I was surprised to find that I immediately connected with Maisy, one of the 10-year-old girls. She talked with me the whole way to the mud pit where Ghost Creek meets the Tippecanoe River. There Maisy, her cabin mates, the counselors, the CILTs and I slathered ourselves with mud. I went to the corner where the smoothest mud slides off of the wall and gathered a handful. Rubbing it on their cheeks and foreheads I gave girls mud facials promising that it was going to make their skin so smooth--it was better than face wash.
Maisy plopped down in the middle of the creek and made a mud angel. She rolled over and squirmed until every bit of her body was covered. I picked up a stick from the ground and stuck it in Maisy's dirty ponytail. It stuck straight up like a feather from an Indian headdress. She went searching for a stick for my hair and came back with a foot long twig. When she attached it my dirt encrusted hair the long stick bobbed every time I moved.
McSoley called, "Boomslam- Kickapoo! Let's go to pop-stop," and we all scrambled out of the mud back up to the trail. Sliding in our slimy Crocs we walked back up to Lake Village to get cold cans of Diet Coke and Orange Fanta. Maisy and I talked in British accents the whole way and named our sticks. (I don't know why but at camp most inanimate objects usually end up getting named. It's strange, but it works.) Her stick was named Imogene and mine was Agatha.
Buddies at lake time, Maisy and I left Imogene and Agatha in our hair as we blobbed, kayaked, went on the rope swing, and bounced on the Saturn. The lake washed us off as we played but the mud left behind a brown tinge on our skin and a smell that couldn't be ignored. After a trip down the wet willy slides Agatha came out of my hair and sank to the bottom of the Richard G. Marsh lake.
Maisy held onto Imogene the rest of the week. She toted the stick around with her from chapel to clinics to the cabin and campfires. When we crossed paths she would pass Imogene off to me to baby-sit until I saw her again. By the end of the week Imogene had a friendship bracelet, swim band, and duct tape neon green stripe around her middle. Maisy promised to take care of her all year and bring her back the next summer.
Check-in day week one the next summer Maisy ran over to me at dinner flagpole. "Hi Maisy! I was hoping you'd be back this week. How are you?" I said after giving her a hug. She told me that she got a blue band at the swim check and pointed out her new cabin across the circle.
"And guess what?" she asked with her eyes wide. "What?" I said.
"I BROUGHT IMOGENE BACK!" she yelled and pulled out the stick from her back pocket.
Every afternoon the CILTs go join their adopt-a-cabins to play kickball, swim at the pool, have a dodge ball game, or pillow fight. This time is their chance to serve as a role model to the younger campers, learning through action, and to work with the cabin counselors, learning by watching. After rest hour they load their backpacks with towels, closed toed shoes, and a change of clothes for after swim time before running out to meet up with their group.
In a matter of minutes all 42 CILTs make a great exodus leaving the CILT counselors behind. Suddenly camper-less we find ourselves in unknown territory. What do counselors do without campers? When I first became a CILT counselor I was completely thrown off. For summers I had been conditioned to have at least ten girls trailing behind me as we traveled to the zipline and crossed camp to lake time. They are a constant stream of questions, entertainment, reminders, conversation, questions, and adventure. As a counselor, your campers are your responsibility for seven straight days.
What do you do when they all leave? Go tag-along with another cabin.
Part of a CILT counselor's job is to observe the CILTs in action. All afternoon long we join cabin activities to both participate and watch the CILTs involved. We get the best of both worlds- working with 16-year-olds and younger kids at the same time.
The first day that I ever tagged along with a cabin I joined Kickapoo, my friend Sara McSoley's cabin. McSoley is an all-star in the counselor world--her laughter is contagious, she makes every camper feel included and special, and has the power to make any day feel like the best day of your life. I wanted to see her in action on a mud hike. Mary, a longtime camper of mine, was the CILT for this group of Blazer girls and I was so impressed watching her comfort a homesick girl.
I was surprised to find that I immediately connected with Maisy, one of the 10-year-old girls. She talked with me the whole way to the mud pit where Ghost Creek meets the Tippecanoe River. There Maisy, her cabin mates, the counselors, the CILTs and I slathered ourselves with mud. I went to the corner where the smoothest mud slides off of the wall and gathered a handful. Rubbing it on their cheeks and foreheads I gave girls mud facials promising that it was going to make their skin so smooth--it was better than face wash.
Maisy plopped down in the middle of the creek and made a mud angel. She rolled over and squirmed until every bit of her body was covered. I picked up a stick from the ground and stuck it in Maisy's dirty ponytail. It stuck straight up like a feather from an Indian headdress. She went searching for a stick for my hair and came back with a foot long twig. When she attached it my dirt encrusted hair the long stick bobbed every time I moved.
McSoley called, "Boomslam- Kickapoo! Let's go to pop-stop," and we all scrambled out of the mud back up to the trail. Sliding in our slimy Crocs we walked back up to Lake Village to get cold cans of Diet Coke and Orange Fanta. Maisy and I talked in British accents the whole way and named our sticks. (I don't know why but at camp most inanimate objects usually end up getting named. It's strange, but it works.) Her stick was named Imogene and mine was Agatha.
Buddies at lake time, Maisy and I left Imogene and Agatha in our hair as we blobbed, kayaked, went on the rope swing, and bounced on the Saturn. The lake washed us off as we played but the mud left behind a brown tinge on our skin and a smell that couldn't be ignored. After a trip down the wet willy slides Agatha came out of my hair and sank to the bottom of the Richard G. Marsh lake.
Maisy held onto Imogene the rest of the week. She toted the stick around with her from chapel to clinics to the cabin and campfires. When we crossed paths she would pass Imogene off to me to baby-sit until I saw her again. By the end of the week Imogene had a friendship bracelet, swim band, and duct tape neon green stripe around her middle. Maisy promised to take care of her all year and bring her back the next summer.
Check-in day week one the next summer Maisy ran over to me at dinner flagpole. "Hi Maisy! I was hoping you'd be back this week. How are you?" I said after giving her a hug. She told me that she got a blue band at the swim check and pointed out her new cabin across the circle.
"And guess what?" she asked with her eyes wide. "What?" I said.
"I BROUGHT IMOGENE BACK!" she yelled and pulled out the stick from her back pocket.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Bizarro
I was thrilled that Rach and Kath made the trip up to visit me on this beautiful Indiana day. "Such a great day for friendship," Kath said. Yes, we really are that cheesy all the time.
It was a regular day for us- swooning over the inventory of Anthropologie and J. Crew, loving the brown bread/Diet Coke/massive servings at Cheesecake, singing in the car to We R Who We R, attempting the paper flowers I found yesterday (they failed), and laughing--how can you not with these two?
"You know, I've never really been to a Starbucks. I prefer Panera. This is my first or second time in a Starbucks." -I might be eavesdropping
One of the things I miss about college culture is the coffee shop culture. As often as possible I would walk the few short blocks to JP's on 8th st to sip a vanilla latte while talking to a friend or finishing up some writing for one of Heather's classes.
But in real life I have yet to find a great local coffee shop so I go to Starbucks. My visits are usually restricted to a quick stop on the way to school or church to get my caffeine fix. It's just not the same.
So on this empty Saturday morning of Spring Break I've decided to try to re-capture all that I love most of that old tradition. I've brought along letters to write back to, a new book to jump into, and my computer so I can write another ch of the camp story--three of my favorite activities. There is nowhere else I need to be right now and there are no pressing phone calls, e-mails, or papers to take care of. Right now I can sit and drink my vanilla latte.
I love that I can sit here totally anonymous in a room of constant activity- the coffee grinder is whirring, a toddler is jumping up and down, friends are leaning in over a cup of coffee, men are reading the newspapers, the baristas are laughing and teasing 'Adam' the only guy working, a grandma can't choose which pastry to try, a family is playing dominoes, and odd music is playing over it all. This is a haven for people watching.
But in real life I have yet to find a great local coffee shop so I go to Starbucks. My visits are usually restricted to a quick stop on the way to school or church to get my caffeine fix. It's just not the same.
So on this empty Saturday morning of Spring Break I've decided to try to re-capture all that I love most of that old tradition. I've brought along letters to write back to, a new book to jump into, and my computer so I can write another ch of the camp story--three of my favorite activities. There is nowhere else I need to be right now and there are no pressing phone calls, e-mails, or papers to take care of. Right now I can sit and drink my vanilla latte.
I love that I can sit here totally anonymous in a room of constant activity- the coffee grinder is whirring, a toddler is jumping up and down, friends are leaning in over a cup of coffee, men are reading the newspapers, the baristas are laughing and teasing 'Adam' the only guy working, a grandma can't choose which pastry to try, a family is playing dominoes, and odd music is playing over it all. This is a haven for people watching.
Friday, April 1, 2011
"That looks like Morgan Freeman... That's Nelson Mandela... Same thing." -First Friday
Yesterday my students were telling me all of their plans to fly to Cabo, drive to Destin, and jump on a cruise to the Virgin Islands. In a handful of days I'll be heading off on my own adventure, but today I was very content to just be home. Content to focus on the break of Spring Break. As much as I need new scenery and excitement I also need to just sleep in, sit on the couch, make a friendship bracelet, read a book, watch TV in the middle of the day, eat frozen yogurt, and not have to do anything.
We went back to Orange Leaf today to introduce Caitlin, Sar's friend visiting from Texas, to this Carmel favorite. It was packed again. Insanity and lines that wrap through the whole store.
We sat around all day before heading downtown for a pizza-eating, sign-dancing, people-watching, Colleen-running-into, First-Friday-art-touring kind of night.
I had time to sit and make bracelets this afternoon. I love finishing bracelets and tying the last knots. Next project- friendship bracelet headbands. Yep, they're going to be cool.
I bought a book at Silver In The City and just have to share this page with you.
Let's each be heroic.
While searching for a new art project for us to do I came across this picture but it had no explanation. I REALLY want to figure out how to make these flowers... and I love that cute little bud vase. So if you figure out how to make these let me know.
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