lessons

Teach me to let go,
to practice flying without wings,
to be as the morning sun,
rising full of purpose and setting out unasked.

Teach me to embrace brokenness,
fix me so the light continues to shine through,
mistakes known but forgiven.

Teach me to acknowledge the beauty,
in a frosty morning cold enough to thaw the skin,
when the air is thin enough to see your aspirations exhaled in your own breath.

Teach me to wade through the stress as thick as a swamp,
to not noticed the creatures biting my ankles to slow me down,
and keep me up when the weeds pull me down.

Help me understand why people come in to my life,
those that make me deeply engaged,
and come to see why they changed me and left.

Teach me to move on,
when I am emotionally, physically and mentally,
missing my sense of self.
To wipe the slate like a chalkboard,
and to wash away any left over dust.

Still Waters

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.

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.

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. 

12:19

She's the first heart I have known and remembered for its entirety.

The morning of December 19th, when I was 13 years old is not one I will ever forget. The call, the rush, the excitement. We sped to the delivery room prior to school, unnerved I would be late regardless of my flawless school attendance. That didn't matter in the least on this particular day. The sky was still awakening, the hallways were still cool, and most of the patients were still in slumber. The morning was full of somber. Waiting to enter the room I remember faint beeps, whispers and shadowed nurses waltzing from room to room carrying out their daunting tasks; all second view from what I was completely fixated on...meeting her. The second I laid eyes upon her the yellow haze of the room seemed out of focus. Beating heart, shallow breaths, full of life. Swaddled in a blanket she was placed near the window, as if she was born to be bigger and more full of life than her surroundings. Every day since, she has proven that hypothesis correct.

The years to follow were full of summers spent waking at the crack of dawn, biking across the dimly lit town with chilling wind blowing through whatever I threw on that morning. Anxious to meet a day filled with her presence. From the apartment we departed for daily adventure. Toys, the pool, pictures, and parks. Walks, baseball games, library visits and naps. Being silly and enjoying our summers together.

The winters consisted of shared weekends with us when mom and dad were busy. She joined us for church, and entertained us all during family gatherings; proving her knowledge by rattling off the songs from the most recent concerts and shows.

One day, unannounced, she started to grow up. The way she held her composure as the softball came her way and she hit a home run on the team her daddy coached. The way she explained her dance routines and was eager to show any eyes willing to watch. She gained love for one direction and talked with a heart full of love to everyone who would listen. The incredible ability she gained to love to ice skate and be extraordinary at it.

Then college hit me smack in the face. No more weekly encounters. I could never again just drive across town to see her whenever I felt the need, or baby sit when her mom wanted. My heart ached for missing not just family, but a big chunk of the person I had spent so much time with. Now, encounters consist of Christmas, breaks, reunions, random weekends and weeks before I would set out for camp.

The sequence of short events that happen when I get to see her in town after being away awhile will be forever remembered for the rest of my life. The surprised look, the gasp, my name being squealed, the run with arms outspread, and the embrace we share. Nearly nothing compares to this type of joy. Each day together, while home during break, we squeeze in time to be together; to jump on the trampoline, take some time at the beach, watching hockey, spending time being goofy in the camper during the reunion, ice skating together, and watching her develop her skills in whatever passion she is currently interested in.

Most of my best memories involve her. She has been the single biggest thing to happen to me in the years that I can fully remember. I love her with a full heart.

Daily she inspires me. Her energy, her whit, her confidence. She's remarkably smart, with a fixation on her passions. She strives for individuality and cares deeply. She is growing into a wonderful young woman with an giant attitude to boot. I am most proud of who she is. I'd like to say she's turning into me, but then I remember that she is one of the biggest parts of who I am.

Yellow

I used to think it was my favorite because my most favorite things were created from it.

Banana popsicles.

Mac and cheese.

Lemonade.

Gram's house.

My sorority colors.

Pineapple prints.

Flowers.

Then I noticed something.

It wasn't what was made from its hues, but what I myself strive to be.

This discovery didn't come easy or immediate.

At first, I hated it.

The glow of the morning will forever promise to be the most unavoidable intrusion of life. For a long time, I despised its presence. I used to hold a true hatred the daily abduction of darkness, forced to leave the presence of pillows and quilts. Never fully experiencing true definitions of the steady stream of morning light. To me, it was as simple as that. Light.

Then the day came that I actually truly noticed it. The morning light was yellow. Soft.  At first, through the small slit of opened morning eyes begging to remain closed. Then my view changed. I learned to open my eyes slowly to a new, promising, day. Blessed to be woken up yet again, able to grow and experience another beautiful day. The light, pouring in through opaque curtains, screaming its presence, is unavoidable. It doesn't ask for permission to enlighten others, it just does. It finds the deepest corners and swallows the darkness. It urges silently for you to experience its full potential. The full potential of the day.

I've had the ability to awaken in numerous places called home, and experience the soft glow of morning in more places than one. In some places it pulses through the curtains, whispering in a soft glow. In others, it streams through the screen in lines accompanied by the birds. And still in others, it pours directly in through windows near the ceiling as a waterfall does.  Completely beautiful, never stopping.

How lucky we would be to possess the talents the morning hours. To have the ability to shine without stopping. To let everyone of the face of the earth know that they are alive, hearts beating with purpose, to set out to accomplish dreams …daily.

Then I was enlightened.

We can. Secondly, we must. We must strive to be the morning glow. We have the ability daily to make others feel full of purpose. To set out with determination, and live a life of inspiration. Never stopping to ask permission. To let others know they are appreciated. And most importantly, to let them know they are loved; and daily we will FORCE them to get up, uncover their dreams and strive to do their best just as the sun does for us. We must push into their lives, as the morning light pushes into ours. To search out darkness, and to fill it with light.  Never changing, completely reliable, and always unavoidable.

We must strive to be yellow. 

the girl with purple shades

I think it was summer of '96. Although I guess it could have been any of the summers 5 years before or 5 years after. The summers that forever changed who I was.

The morning hours were excruciating. Mom would cake on a layer of mystery before she left for the day. Stampeding from bathroom, to bedroom, kitchen, and repeat. The wonder of what her day at work entailed was never near the wonder and anticipation of what mine would bring as soon as my beloved sitter arrived.

The kerchief pattern on the red sheet blew loose in the early hours as it hung in our bay window. The fragments of shadows it created and the soft red light it let in pushed through and danced on the wall, sharing its joy for the impending day. I waited for the shine of sun reflecting off of purple sunglasses, meaning that she was only 12 sidewalk squares away from a full day of fun.

I remember trips across town to the beach in the bike trailer. Running through the sand, too hot for my feet and jet ski rides. On the luckiest of days, I remember treats from the brown snack shack.

I remember ice cream days and messes running down my face.

I remember walks and adventures, lemonade stands, days in the yard, standing in sidewalk chalk stained clothes admiring a masterpiece in the driveway, and bubbles that filled the air as we danced in the sun on the grass.

I remember the lives my barbie dolls lived and being mommies to baby dolls. Playing endless board games from the closet, and stuffed animals that tagged along.

I remember rainy days, when unwanted water trickled through our unfinished roof and the pots and pans she placed delicately around the living room to save the floor as much as possible.

I remember packed sandwiches in Ziplock bags, and mac and cheese with hot dogs on the old dinning room table.

I remember Noah's ark toys during bath time, the tent on my bed, and the large purple container, pushed under the bed, filled to the brim with magnificent tubs containing imagination dough (now, as an adult, referred to as play dough).

I remember the pool and parks.

I remember trips to the 1st street back yard. Climbing the trees, eating berries, and playing with bubbles big enough, I thought they would pick me up and carry me away. I remember learning cartwheels in the front lawn and the green and pink soccer ball. I remember snuggles in the hammock and the smell of the flowers.

I remember dressing up in dance clothes found in the bottom drawer in the bathroom, opening the double knobs with two hands.

And when winter decided to come, with the doom of a fulfilled but ending summer, I remember the sidelines of prom, gingerbread houses, visiting for Halloween, and Christmas in the 1st street house.

I remember love.

Then it came, graduation. I wasn't completely aware of what this meant. To me, it was a day to dress up and once again visit the house where my favorite person lived. I didn't know that the explanation would soon come, that with her away, it was going to be a little different.

To her, I'm sure it felt a little bit more like work. But to me, it will forever have felt like one of the most perfect dreams. A never ending, complete string of joy.

There are a million memories she helped create for me. But the best thing I can ever remember is her complete love for me. I was the one she shared numerous amounts of love with. I was the luckiest person on the face of the earth. I was blessed with not only two loving parents, but a third person, who would do anything for me and loved me unconditionally.

She taught me more than just how to tie my shoes. She taught me things some people never grasp the whole concept of: patience, understanding, joy, grace and true love.

I'll never really be able to understand why I was able to be so blessed to spend my summers under the tender care of one of the most wonderful people on this side of heaven. God gave me a babysitter, childhood best friend, and a forever role model in the best form.

She forever changed who I am, in the best way possible. She was and continues to be truly inspiring, and a huge part of who I aspire to be.

Soon, her love will forever be promised to the luckiest man. For all the love she lent me, I am forever thankful.

Congrats on the engagement Megan, and a life filled with love you will share.