Let warm summers meet a dollop of love and life completely stops.
Let dreaming warm the heart and admirers eyes gently love the first impression.
Let the unstoppable magic of summer make music and teenagers understand the special whirlwind of love in an instant.
Let the end in sight see more tomorrows.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
bring me back
Bring me back.
To summer.
To nights under stars.
To host families.
To adventures.
To campers.
To meaningful conversations.
To a list of numbers you don't know.
the date.
the time.
the zip code.
Bring me back to the cafeteria.
The madness.
The cleaning.
The tubs.
The dinner bell.
To the walk-in fridge.
To the milk cooler.
daily chocolate milk.
The outside voices, inside.
The games.
Bring me back to summer sickness.
To where a day in quarantine felt like an eternity.
Bring me back to the campfires.
The daily devotions.
The perfect fires.
The songs.
even if you couldn't sing.
The guitar.
The endless fire smell.
never leaving smell, forever on all your clothes.
The lake at BZ.
Bring me back to the woods.
To spirit sticks.
To hikes.
To arrows.
To my favorite trees.
To the point and back again.
To the forts.
Bring me back to mermaids.
not so much leaches.
Bring me back to the meetings.
To hearing about habitat money raised.
To bucket of love.
To a freezer of waiting freezies.
Bring me back to the pool.
The guarding tubes.
The diving board.
The pool parties.
The night swims.
Bring me back to upper Beta.
The jams.
mostly Tigger's beautiful guitar solos.
The food.
The packages.
especially those sent to Jear-Bear and videoed by Carl.
(go Carl)
The letters.
The phone calls.
The daily hour of conversation.
The ol' couch cushions.
The possibilities.
Take me back to the ropes.
To challenging yourself.
and others.
Bring me back to the lake.
Guarding on the jet ski.
To Kayaks.
To a view of sailboats.
Bring me back the weekends.
To church.
To Jane and Aaron's.
To the MOA.
To the possibilities of a free camp.
To Gommar visits.
To nights in the GaGa pit.
Bring me back to the cabins.
To the hearts of campers.
especially the DD ones.
To chatting in Gamma.
To where your best friends live ten feet from your front door.
To the ability to move once a week.
sometimes twice.
To the love shared, morning and night.
Bring me back to camp.
Where the Holy Spirit is heard in the wind.
Where the reminders of Jesus aren't further than the turn of a head.
Where God chose to send you for a summer.
I will take the mosquitoes, the sleepy days, the pool shifts, the hot dog cookouts, the noisy campers, the sunburns. I'll gladly take the nights in the woods, keeping track of my keys, sleeping on the floor in a bed full of sand, the day long canoe trips, the registration, and setting up. Take me back to not enough space, living out of tubs, living out of a suitcase (with broken wheels from pulling it over roots), washing clothes only when you can no longer lift your laundry bag.To only washing your hair once a week. I would gladly sleep one more night in Alpha. I would take on the organizing endless life jackets, ball shed balls, archery equipment, cleaning beta, weeing the garden, AND wiping down bunks. I'll even take the stinky green lake.
Just bring me back.
To summer.
To nights under stars.
To host families.
To adventures.
To campers.
To meaningful conversations.
To a list of numbers you don't know.
the date.
the time.
the zip code.
Bring me back to the cafeteria.
The madness.
The cleaning.
The tubs.
The dinner bell.
To the walk-in fridge.
To the milk cooler.
daily chocolate milk.
The outside voices, inside.
The games.
Bring me back to summer sickness.
To where a day in quarantine felt like an eternity.
Bring me back to the campfires.
The daily devotions.
The perfect fires.
The songs.
even if you couldn't sing.
The guitar.
The endless fire smell.
never leaving smell, forever on all your clothes.
The lake at BZ.
Bring me back to the woods.
To spirit sticks.
To hikes.
To arrows.
To my favorite trees.
To the point and back again.
To the forts.
Bring me back to mermaids.
not so much leaches.
Bring me back to the meetings.
To hearing about habitat money raised.
To bucket of love.
To a freezer of waiting freezies.
Bring me back to the pool.
The guarding tubes.
The diving board.
The pool parties.
The night swims.
Bring me back to upper Beta.
The jams.
mostly Tigger's beautiful guitar solos.
The food.
The packages.
especially those sent to Jear-Bear and videoed by Carl.
(go Carl)
The letters.
The phone calls.
The daily hour of conversation.
The ol' couch cushions.
The possibilities.
Take me back to the ropes.
To challenging yourself.
and others.
Bring me back to the lake.
Guarding on the jet ski.
To Kayaks.
To a view of sailboats.
Bring me back the weekends.
To church.
To Jane and Aaron's.
To the MOA.
To the possibilities of a free camp.
To Gommar visits.
To nights in the GaGa pit.
Bring me back to the cabins.
To the hearts of campers.
especially the DD ones.
To chatting in Gamma.
To where your best friends live ten feet from your front door.
To the ability to move once a week.
sometimes twice.
To the love shared, morning and night.
Bring me back to camp.
Where the Holy Spirit is heard in the wind.
Where the reminders of Jesus aren't further than the turn of a head.
Where God chose to send you for a summer.
I will take the mosquitoes, the sleepy days, the pool shifts, the hot dog cookouts, the noisy campers, the sunburns. I'll gladly take the nights in the woods, keeping track of my keys, sleeping on the floor in a bed full of sand, the day long canoe trips, the registration, and setting up. Take me back to not enough space, living out of tubs, living out of a suitcase (with broken wheels from pulling it over roots), washing clothes only when you can no longer lift your laundry bag.To only washing your hair once a week. I would gladly sleep one more night in Alpha. I would take on the organizing endless life jackets, ball shed balls, archery equipment, cleaning beta, weeing the garden, AND wiping down bunks. I'll even take the stinky green lake.
Just bring me back.
Friday, February 6, 2015
from the dream's point of view
Reality.
some days reality is more than what meets the eye.
we strive for the standard view of what college means.
parties.
loud music.
skinny bodies.
plump closets.
good hair.
relationships.
best dressed.
positive vibes galore.
independence.
sunshine.
smiles.
but some days, what we believe is the utter reality is a perception through a skewed kaleidoscope.
un-prepared, toxic necessities.
tears.
burning through debt like an endless cash flow.
hours of mundane tasks.
tired eyes.
tired minds.
stimulation lost.
emptiness accepted.
lack of control.
dirt.
mess.
flat.
We fail to remember our goals, and are forced to settle for flat hair, thrown up in a bun. It situates itself and waits for us to complete our college tasks. Ready to be let down. Ready for the real world. Ready to live.
BUT, reality is what you make of it.
College isn't about the expected terms. Its parts are larger than its sum. It's more than can ever be placed into written words, or speaking mouths. It is a path to dreams. So here we are, and we are forced to remember.
We remember to be carefree and dream as big as we can. We ARE young. We ARE wild. We ARE free. And we ARE allowed to dream as big as we want. No mouths to preach a no. The limit does not exist. We can dance in the glory of the sun from the view of the horizon. To love, to laugh, to enjoy. And when that happens, up it goes again. Into a bun. Out of our way. Not because of our neglect for it to be tamed, but simply so that our eyes aren't crowded by anything but our dreams.
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