Beware

Brace yourselves.

I don't know how to tell you this, but if you're like me, you could be in grave danger. You may think that you are a safe sort of chap or chappess, but you may be oblivious to the fact that you are setting yourself up for the perfect catastrophe. I consider it my personal responsibility to enlighten you.

My source? A twelve-year-old girl who happened to be in my cabin group the first week of camp.

She may have made a news breaking discovery.

I'll call her Betsy.

The news? You won't want to miss this.

Singing may seem like a harmless activity, and taking a shower may seem like a common (and rather necessary) practice, but I have to warn you.

Combining the two may be lethal.

Here's what I heard from my un--er, reliable source. I will quote exactly my paraphrase of her speech.

"There should be like a law against singing in the shower. I mean seriously! It's, like, really dangerous! When I sing in the shower, I can't help but dance, and once when I did that I fell and hurt myself! People could like break their necks that way if they're not super careful."

Oh boy. I mean, alas!!! What could this mean? Do I have to give up my beloved occupation of singing in the shower? I'm proceeding with extreme caution from now on. As soon as the foot starts tapping I'll turn my larynx to stone. It doesn't hurt to be wary.

I just thought you should know too so you can guard yourself from a deadly accident. You can never be too careful.

Just don't tell Betsy that I still sing in the shower.

A crash landing on the nose

I just posted a relatively lengthy report on my jam-packed two weeks of counseling at a camp. If you have any desire to hear about it, you should definitely at least skim it even though I'm immediately posting something else. However, in case my camp experience as a whole doesn't interest you and you'd rather hear about one single adventure (that you may have already gotten whiff of) that I had, this is probably what you'd better read.

I still can't quite believe I did it. I have always been a safe sort of girl. Skiing and snowboarding have never held much appeal for me so I haven't had the privilege of breaking a bone in that manner (did you know that while skiing every bone in the human body has been broken by somebody except a bone in the inner ear? So I've heard), I never played a regular sport, and even though I believe some aggressiveness is good in sports I've always been pretty careful to stay out of the way when there's a Shawn-Bobby-Dave-Ben collision inevitable in ultimate Frisbee. I've never had a bloody nose, and I've never been to the doctor for anything except ear infections and a physical. So if you're a cautious person who has never tasted an injury of any kind and is longing for the experience, let me instruct you in one easy lesson.

Have a thirteen year old kid who weighs more than you do make a crash landing on your nose with his elbow. Things should start to get interesting after that.

We were short handed that day. We had a lot of kids to get through the popular high ropes course and only so many leaders to supervise them. We divided our outdoor adventure group in half and told one half they could wait to go on the high ropes course. The other group could practice and kill time on the low ropes course. Oh wait. We don't have anybody to supervise the low ropes course. I volunteered--I didn't know how to be an "anchor" on the other course anyway, and I did know enough about the low course to instruct people. Besides, I've been pretty successful at catching people too. I suspect that I shouldn't have been the only "adult" present, but as circumstances would have it, we didn't have much choice. So I proceeded to make sure kids played safe at the edge of the woods about seventy-five yards or so away from everyone else. I should have exerted my authority more and had somebody else help me catch people, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway.

So yes. I already told you what happened. One second I'm encouraging a boy through a tricky bit of rope about four feet off the ground, ready to steady him and snatch him if he should make good use of the law of gravity. He tottered, and I saw a flash of elbow or something hard (one boy watching told me he thought it was a foot but I doubt it) and then I heard a crunch. Oooh, what a musical crunch! Next thing I knew, blood started streaming out my nose. I couldn't remember what you were supposed to do with a bloody nose. Were you supposed to put your head forward or back? One guy (I think it was the KJB guy, for those of you who read my other post) told me to pinch my nose and keep my head straight. I obeyed and made a bee line for the main campus where the nurse was. I don't do well with blood, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I started to faint. I had to get to the nurse before then. Unfortunately, the nurse wasn't exactly in calling distance, and there weren't any other adults nearby to inform I was leaving. There wasn't time for that.

Down, down, down the long steep hill I went. Blood missed my cupped hands and splattered onto my beloved Fairwood Bible Institute shirt, but that was kind of low on my priority list of worries right then. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill (this is almost like a Catskill mountain we're talking about here) my hands were full to overflowing with bright red liquid, and I absently emptied one of them onto the grass and kept going, trying to remain calm. Through a clearing, past the whiffle ball field, past the volleyball court and soccer field, across the street, across the lawn to "the Ark" (this distance might have been comparable to walking from Fairview to the Main House). Thankfully one of the girl counselors, Jen (not the Belle one), was sitting on the porch visiting with her mother who had stopped by.

Speaking as casually as possible, I asked, "Um, what's the best way to get a hold of the nurse?" Considering that by now my hands and wrists were dripping, my shirt and shorts were pretty much smeared, and my legs and sneakers were considerably speckled, I must have been quite a sight. Jen practically leaped out of her rocking chair and said she'd get the nurse (who was in the middle of the building in the basement--not very accessible for a person in my condition) while her mother encouraged me to sit down.

I don't know how long I sat there. Gauze, wash cloths, and ice were brought as we waited for the blood to slow down. Soon after I sat down I recognized my fainting symptoms and gradually I watched the world get grayish black. People walked by or stood around but I couldn't see their faces. Some girl going by gasped and said, "OMG! Kayla, are you okay?" I didn't even know who it was. I held something to my nose and kept breathing, "Lord help me," while the words from Psalm 56:3 raced through my mind again and again, "When I am afraid, I will put my trust in God." I didn't think anything was seriously wrong with me, but it took willpower--no, trust to remain calm and maintain my sanity and poise. Somebody got me a cup of water and a large can so I could spit out all the blood that was in my mouth and that I had been swallowing. I waited. Things cleared up pretty soon, and at this point I think I was able to crack a feeble joke about my condition. Somebody told me that I'd make a great a Halloween character right then. No small wonder. I probably had blood coming from my nose and my mouth, not to mention that it was kind of all over the rest of me, even in my hair (it was fun to pick out the clots at the ends of my braids later). I was able to distinguish faces, including the nurse, Jen, her mom, a politely concerned life guard I had never officially met (but he kindly hosed down the porch after I left, so I'm told), and Will, a friend of the Reeds who has been to Fairwood and who also works there as a life guard.

The women helped me inside and downstairs to the infirmary where my bleeding resumed and I lay for awhile waiting for it to stop. After seeing that I was settled, Jen and her mother prepared to leave, and it was then that I remembered and felt some remorse for leaving kids unsupervised at the low ropes course. So I communicated that to Jen with my apologies, and it was at this point that I started to cry. Blast it! Oh well, I'm not so silly as to think crying is really stupid. A person's got to let loose some how, I guess, and God invented crying as the perfect avenue to vent. I told Jen I was fine though and didn't know why I was crying (I WAS fine; the worst was over, so why do tears have to kick in so late?) and she assured me that she would look into it.

So I waited. I waited for my bleeding to stop. I waited until I didn't cough up quite so much blood. I waited as the nurse gently cleaned me up like a baby who'd been caught playing the mud. This mud was even redder than Georgia's though, I'll tell ya. Fingers, hands, wrists, face, legs. Honestly, I've never seen so much blood in my life, but I realize that's not saying a whole lot. I lay alone for awhile and decided that singing was my best medicine. So I sang, or literally squeaked, out a number of songs: "He's Always Been Faithful," "Great is Thy Faithfulness," "Be Still and Know that I am God," "God is so Good," and the chorus to "Redemption," being a few of the pieces I tried. Faith and truth expressed in song is often the most beneficial. I had felt to resist the devil in our leaders meeting that morning and then this had happened. But I was not so easily defeated.

Eventually, I prepared to leave for the ER with my dad. The nurse had asked Sam, my co-counselor, to bring me some clothes to change into, and the dear girl had willingly done so. The only thing was that the shirt she brought me was actually my night shirt and I didn't have the heart to tell her. Besides, when it came right down to it, there was a certain appeal to going to the ER in my bloody clothes. I mean, come on! What's the point of going to the ER if you don't look like you have a reason for being there? My clothes certainly made me look legit, so I decided to keep them on. I was going to wear my stained FBI shirt with honor. I will admit though that when my dad wanted to stop at the grocery store to pick up medications I refused to go in. It's one thing to arrive at the hospital looking like a battle-scarred warrior, but at a grocery store I would look just plain unappetizing.

To sum it all up, I found out that my nose is broken. I had x-rays taken, and when the doctor came in to ask me if I wanted to see them he didn't even tell me that my nose was broken. All he said was, "Do you want to see a picture of your broken nose?" He didn't try to "break" it to me. Ahh, great. Sure! At least with it broken I have a reason for bleeding so much and seeming wimpy.

As I headed back to camp (there was no way I was going home to give up and recover!), I prayed that God would use the accident, hopefully to affect my ministry at the camp. I can say that it certainly helped me to trust God (now I know that I know how to look to Him in the midst of my first mini medical crisis!), and though I'm not actually aware it affected my ministry, it certainly was a good conversation starter. Either people saw me with ice on my nose or word had spread that I had had a bloody nose that morning, and I was able to cheerfully tell them that I had broken my nose! Once the worst was over I found ways to be happy about it. Of course, there were unpleasant aspects of it besides the obvious pain: I felt like I had a headache only it was on my face (I'll be honest--I don't remember the initial break actually being very painful--the blood was way more distracting), I had to do things like chew, smile, and scratch itches very gingerly, and then there was the fact that I had kind of had to walk all the way to the nurse's building all by myself feeling like nobody really noticed or cared. Most people had no idea what had happened; not that it really mattered. I reminded myself over and over again that God was good. I believed it, but it did take some faith. And then that night I got about nine or ten texts from friends who all encouraged me and told me they were praying for me! I don't even have a phone; I had my mom's, so it was especially neat that they were all texting me (Craig was behind telling people, as I suspected and later found out). Believing that God was good got a whole lot easier then.

That being said, I got a lot of support from people at camp as well as away from camp. One lady counselor (from the Bible Church), prayed for me right as we were heading to chapel. Another girl counselor right afterwards walked up and gave me a hug even though she had no idea what had happened that day. People, campers and counselors alike, asked me how I was and sometimes told me they had prayed for me. Many asked me how it had happened. One of my campers told me that she had heard that I'd run into a tree. Haha. Wow . . . talk about rumors. I asked her who had told her that and she insisted that one of the other girls in our cabin had told her, and they in turn insisted that she had made it up. Anyway, I don't really know if my broken nose affected my ministry or not, but at least I was able to talk a little more with some people and communicate some of my joy and faith in God's goodness in spite of it all.

Oh, and the boy who fell on me is just fine, and I'm very glad for it. I would have felt a lot worse if HE had broken his nose when I was the one responsible for him.

Some of you may be wondering if you can tell if I broke my nose. Well, actually, you probably can't. For a few days I was a little swollen; my glasses didn't fit me right, and I was pretty sore (though the constant pain was gone after the first day). After a day or two I bruised under both my eyes and some on my eye lids. Other than that, most people when they look at me are surprised when I tell them that my nose is broken, and I have to tell them that the x-rays proved it. The doctor told me that perhaps the only sign will be that a part of my nose might get a tiny bit more prominent, and probably only people who know me well MIGHT be able to tell.

I also had a follow up appointment yesterday with the nose, ears, and mouth specialist. And I gotta tell ya, I felt blessedly out of place as I sat in that waiting room! One man had a huge bandage on his neck while one guy had a huge bandage on his face over his nose (he got taken in almost right away, accompanied by two people who presumably were both his parents), and my mom even thought she saw somebody missing an ear but she wasn't sure. After peering at my face, kneading my nose for a bit (some of which was quite painful, even though overall I'm not quite so tender as I was), and finally looking UP my nose with a special tool, the doctor told me I was "very lucky." Apparently it's not always common for one's nose to straighten itself out without being set, and my nose had done just that. He said all we had to do was let "Mother Nature" do her thing. I should have told him that a lot of people had been praying for me. Let him put that in his pipe and smoke it.

So yes, that's my pretty much my adventure of the month! And adventure indeed it was. It was my first bloody nose, first broken bone, and first trip to the ER! A little traumatic, but relatively unscathing. And God was faithful through it all. I am very thankful.

Adventures on the waves

Oh what I would do to have
The kind of faith it takes to climb out of this boat I'm in
Onto the crashing waves
To step out of my comfort zone
Into the realm of the unknown
Where Jesus is
And He's holding out His hand.

I stood at the side of the boat, trembling. What am I getting myself into? I've never done this sort of thing before, I've never left my boat for this destination before, and I know absolutely nobody else at the place where I am going. Except Jesus. He'd be with me wherever I went, and He always seems closest when I'm out of the boat. And besides, adventure awaits outside the edges of my own little vessel. And with that, I swung my legs over the edge, took one long look, and took the plunge. I was a camp counselor.

"And how did it go?" you may ask. Hmmm. Wondrously well. Superifically well. Not that I always did a great job and everything was smooth sailing, but the experience was both expanding and fun, and I'm very glad I did it. Some of it was hard. It was hard the first week because some of my girls were young and seemed to have no interest in talking about spiritual things in our group discussion and I had to constantly steer the conversation in the right direction. After the first night or two I went out in the dark and literally cried out to God because I felt like a failure and I was afraid I would go insane if I couldn't have a meaningful conversation with my girls.

I learned something: I'm not God. It's not my job to convict or work in somebody's heart. That's God's job. And He does His job better than anyone else can. Even better than I. Once I realized that, my work was much easier the rest of the week. I focused just on being a friend to my girls and planting seeds where I could. I was ready to listen when they needed someone, and I was ready to give my advice. During discussion time I shared what God had done in my life and encouraged them to realize God's incredible love for them and to strive to know Him better. And I let God do the rest.

I was still challenged though. One girl in particular seemed to delight in asking me the most random, difficult questions she could imagine. Things like, "Do Muslims go to heaven?" And "What would happen if a Christian and a devil worshiper wanted to get married?" God, give me wisdom! I had to plead silently when situations like these as well as others arose during both weeks. Somehow I survived.

My favorite time with my girls the first week was our final extended discussion time. We got a pizza to ourselves and I took them to a little bridge that stretched over a peaceful little stream. We lounged on the bridge's bench and I asked them questions. And they asked me questions. The discussion went differently than I would have expected. One girl asked me to tell her what the Lord's Prayer meant since she said that they prayed it in church and she had no idea what she was saying. So, with a quick prayer and an extreme thankfulness for my ATI and Bible school training, I launched into a line by line explanation. I wished I could remember more, but all the girls seemed very attentive to what I said as I attempted to dig into rich truths that could be found in simple words like "hallowed by Thy name." At the end of the time I told them that I was going to pray and any of them could if they wanted. And for the first time, they all did! I may not have done a perfect job as a counselor, but that time seemed special and I trust that God was working. I finally let the girls go, late for the next event. I am my father's daughter after all. :)

The second week was easier in some ways and harder in other ways. It was easier because I was co-counseling and my girls were older, and it was harder because I was co-counseling and my girls were older (and therefore more independent). That being said, my co-counselor, Sam, is a dear and I couldn't have asked for a more fun or capable co-leader; it only was tricky knowing what my role was at times, and I learned how to play second fiddle even though I was older. However, this was excellent for me as well because that week God taught me that it's not all about me, it's about pointing others to Jesus. And even if I didn't get to say all I would have liked to say, or be noticed as much as I would have liked to be noticed, as long as my girls noticed Jesus it was fine with me.

I just gave you a brief overview of how counseling in my "cabin" went for me both weeks, but that doesn't give you an inkling of how interesting or how fun everything was. Every morning we had leaders meeting at 7:30. In some ways, the leaders meetings were my favorite part of the day. This was a time to come together with other mature Christians, go over the schedule, share what had been going on with our campers, and pray together. Sometimes the meeting was very lighthearted, with plenty of bantering and laughter going on. Most of the time I was a quiet onlooker (Craig pointed out that I probably felt the same way some people must feel when they first come to Fairwood), but I enjoyed the jokes and people observation anyway. Sometimes I'd sit next to somebody that I could chat with beforehand, and I got to get a glimpse into the lives of other believers, whether it was discussing colleges (Moody, Gordon, Ohio, etc.), or finding out how somebody from TN heard about Monadnock, or getting excited about the Perspectives course with another girl. In our first meeting I introduced myself as coming from "the better side of the mountain," and that remark haunted me in jest a few times ("Better be careful everyone comes down the right trail on the mountain. We wouldn't want them going down the D Trail. I hear there are some strange people who live down there," said our leader, Kevin with a mischievous glance at me). But even though parts of the meeting were lighthearted, some of it was far from it. Serious issues were brought up and serious prayers were uttered, but in some ways it was kind of refreshing because we all were serious about God. I hadn't even known these people, but it didn't matter. We were seeking God together. And that was fun.

Moving on. Our morning meetings generally didn't go more than half an hour, so I would go back to my room and make sure that my girls were awake. At eight thirty the breakfast bell was rung, and somehow we'd get through a sleepy first meal followed by a half hour of "time with God" (aka personal devotions where you can fill out a sheet of questions). At nine-thirty was the morning gathering which included worship, a slide show or brief video clip, announcements, a "cheesy camp song" (complete with hand motions), and a message from our main speaker for the week. Depending on the speaker, we might even hear him rap a gospel message for us!

After the morning meeting, we dispersed to our tracks. These were divided mainly into sports, creative arts (including hip hop, photography, and more), and outdoor adventure. And what track did I help with? Surely they would have assigned me to something I had experience with, wouldn't they? Um, lo. That is, no. I was blessed with the role of supervising outdoor adventure, including rock climbing, tubing, and high ropes which I know nothing about! Oh joy. I felt pretty useless, but I busied myself with trying to hang out with the kids who didn't want to do the activity of the day, and I trust that wasn't wasted. At times I was able to lend a hand though, whether it was in taking pictures of people tubing for the slide show, leading groups back to the camp when they were done early, talking people through the low ropes course (which I had to learn myself), or spotting people in the tube or catching them on the ropes.

Usually I didn't bother to do any of the activities myself to make sure all the campers got their fill, but I did once try the zip line. What is a zip line? Well, first of all, you put on a helmet and harness and get hooked up to a rope. Then you climb spokes sticking out of a huge pine tree. Up, up, up, you go until you arrive at a small platform. Here Wally, the hardy handyman of MBC, gets you ready for the next step: hooking you up to a line so you can literally step off the platform and go for a ride on an electric line--or something that looks like one.

As I waited for my turn on the swaying platform, a boy ahead of me was sweating before his leap. Wally, seemingly gruff but kind to the core, offered to pray for him and he did. When my turn came, Wally asked me if I was okay, gave me my instructions, and then he said, "You're homeschooled, aren't you?"

I was surprised. Nobody had asked me that question before (I didn't do the zip line until the first week was over half over), so I figured that it wasn't that obvious. Not many people seemed to have been homeschooled, so I decided not to advertise it. Somehow I don't feel like public schoolers have quite the same appreciation for homeschoolers as I do.

In reply, I said, "Yeah, how can you tell?"

Wally didn't say much. "It's a beautiful thing," he said, and told me to jump.

Huh. Whatever that means . . .

I jumped. Sure, I had some minor qualms about stepping out into air from a sickening height, but I trusted God and the people who were taking care of me so I really wasn't very worried. I whizzed through the air and before I knew it I was climbing down. I had conquered the zip line.

After lunch at twelve thirty we usually commenced with a group field game for everyone. We were divided by cabin groups into the blue and green teams, and a fearsome rivalry raged between them all week. Team spirit was encouraged and provoked especially by other counselors, and there was plenty of yelling, huddles, and chants to keep everybody pumped on both sides. One of the most brutal games we played was tube tug-of-war. Basically the two teams spread out on two adjacent sides with guys and girls on each side, facing those of the same gender on the other team. We lined up by height and every two people were given a number, and when your number was called you ran to the middle and grabbed one of the three tubes and dragged it back over your line. Girls against girls, guys against guys (thankfully). It sounds easy, only the fact is that several numbers were usually called at once, and sixteen or so people fighting for three tubes is not always a pretty sight. Frequently people fell down on top of each other in the midst of the brawl, and cuts and bruises as well as other demonstrations of violence were not uncommon. As for me, I usually just grabbed a tube and held on, feeling almost too caught up in the chaos to apply my brain and pull effectively. And although I don't remember ever pulling a tube back over our line, I don't remember ever losing either. In my case the girls on our tube ended up in a deadlock. Mindless brutality, I'll tell ya! Mindless fun.

Another game we played involved getting signature cards from counselors who were spaced out around the field without getting hit by another counselor with a flour sock. The first week I got to play, the second week I got to be a signer. There's another catch though: the counselor signing cards can require each player to perform any little task that the signer conjures up. I had a lot of fun doing this. Some of the athletic guys I had do push-ups (some of the guys thought I was pretty harsh when I had a six foot seven guy do ten, but I figured he looked like the kind of guy who could handle it--I can do 10 push ups without any problem, for Pete's sake!), others did jumping jacks. Some did somersaults, others told jokes. Some sang songs, others just spontaneously offered me their talent. For example, one kid just came up to me and started doing break dance moves. I was duly impressed.

"Okay, should I do a front flip or a back flip?" one guy asked me right away. Whoah.

"Um, a front flip. Wait, you're not going to hurt yourself, are you?" I asked. Other guys in line assured me that this kid knew what he was doing.

One kid wasn't sure he knew how to do a somersault. I felt bad for him and reduced his sentence to one try instead of three. Another girl (from my cabin) sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for me as if she were on Broadway (I already knew she'd been to Europe on national tour choir and that she possessed an amazing voice). Another guy tried to tell me a knock knock joke.

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"KJB."

"KJB who?"

Long pause. "Um, I forgot," he smiled sheepishly. He may have remembered shortly thereafter, but he got a card anyway for making me laugh.

"Okay, why didn't the skeleton cross the road?" one boy asked me. "Cause he didn't have the guts!"

Ha ha ha. That was probably my favorite.

Then, "Do you have anything against blond jokes? Okay, good. Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, a smart blond, and a dumb blond are walking down the street when they see a five dollar bill. Who picks it up? The dumb blond because all the others don't exist!"

The funny thing is that a few minutes later another kid came up to me with the same joke or some variation thereof. For a second I was afraid he had just heard the guy in front of him tell it (lame!), but when I told him I had just heard it and he seemed genuinely disappointed I gave him a card even though he hadn't finished. His joke may have been a little different, but I wasn't really up to hearing it again. And besides, I was helping him out by letting him leave with his card anyway.

As for the songs, I was in such a rush that the only universal ones that came to my head to request were Twinkle, The Star-Spangled Banner, and I'm a Little Teapot (I should have used Old MacDonald Had a Farm). So when I got tired of hearing those, I told them they could sing me any song they wanted. Ironically enough, pretty much everybody that I gave that option floundered about and then settled on I'm A Little Teapot. I guess it must really be a favorite.

Another task I tried was having them say the Pledge of Allegiance, or at least part of it. One girl started with the Pledge of Allegiance and ended with the Lord's Prayer (hey, it wouldn't hurt if we combined them like that, I suppose), but I gave it to her anyway.

The afternoon was usually filled with plenty of free time options. Tubing, sailing, snorkeling, rock climbing, swimming, laser tagging, high ropes, dodge ball, ultimate frisbee, ga ga (a variation of dodge ball where you play in a hexagon court and try to get people out below their knees), bookstore, ice cream, and pick-up board games were some of the options available on some though not all of the afternoons. Usually I just chilled and tried to keep my campers company. The first week this included going swimming with them a number of times, but sometimes they were all off doing their own thing so I just participated in whatever was going on, whether it was watching ga ga, playing dodge ball, playing Mad Gab or Apples to Apples, or just trying to befriend people. I didn't always do a good job at this. I'm often happy to just sit and watch people and not bother to go right up to people and introduce myself, but if there was a girl sitting by herself I often took it upon myself to get to know her a little bit.

In the late afternoon we had another counselors meeting.

The evenings after dinner included the evening gathering (more worship, and more good stuff from our main speaker), followed by a group discussion time as a cabin group and then something special like a Theme Night. Monday was 70's night, Tuesday Celebrity Impersonation night, Wednesday coffee shop (aka talent show), and Thursday Sports night. Basically the theme nights were a fun time to dress up and play some games as blue and green teams again. I didn't know about the theme nights enough ahead of time to really plan for them so I didn't do much except spontaneously decide to go to Impersonation night as Pippi Longstocking. I didn't have time to braid my hair around a hanger, Kim, but at least I had freckles, striped knee socks, braids, and makeshift suspenders. I was afraid that the younger generation of teenagers wouldn't know who Pippi was, but I was impressed at how many people knew who I was supposed to be!

Some of my favorite costumes throughout both weeks included Sam and one of the guy counselors going as the Dugger family (the family with like 19 kids) with nineteen campers up there as each of the kids. It was hilarious, especially since I knew who the Duggers are and I've seen them live playing their violins and everything. Also I saw Taylor Swift (alias: Kevin, the head guy), four girls as the Green Monster wall, Beauty and the Beast (my counselor friend Jen and another guy), Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Darth Vader and Obi Wan, Waldo, and on sports night a guy wearing a dress and pig tails with the label "Manning" on his back (FUNNIEST thing ever!That's right, Peyton!). Oh yes, and also I saw a Saleena Gomez lookalike in one of my campers, only she didn't have to do anything to make herself look like her. Seriously. She said she gets comments almost every day.

Finally, the day usually ended with people going to their rooms at eleven (welcome to teen camp!). Sometimes I was on zone defense which basically meant I walked around part of the campus with a flash light and another counselor as we made sure that nobody was hiding out in the dark doing bad stuff. I actually enjoyed this job because it meant taking in the night air and getting better acquainted one on one with another counselor. In this way I got to know Jackie, calm and cool with blond dreadlocks, and fun to be around. She reminded me a leetle bit of Kimberly, actually (maybe you should try a new style with those long locks of yours, KJ:). I found out that she plays the euphonium and used to major in music therapy. We didn't just exchange information about ourselves, sometimes we had good conversations about our campers and how things were going. Jackie also would suggest we turn out our flash lights when we were in the field and look up at the mouthwatering stars. She didn't call them mouthwatering. I just felt like calling them that at this moment.

I also got to know another guy named Chris. Interestingly enough, he's an English major interested in creative writing just like I am, so we had fun talking about writing and later music. He kind of reminded me of my cousin Aaron in more ways than one. I should say (I think Kendra or somebody asked), we did NOT turn out our flash lights and look up at the stars together. That would have been just too weird.

And I'll say right here that I met many other amazing and fascinating people who would possibly be very intriguing to describe, but it would only make this frightfully long post aproximately twice as long so I don't think it's worth it right now. Besides, I'm probably already boring you.

Lights out was usually between 11:30 and 12. And then I got up at 6:35 a.m. and did many of the same things all over again.

I don't suppose I've mentioned that I dressed a little differently from anybody else at camp. They did have a dress code in place (not Fairwood's, haha), but I will admit that there were times when I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. That is, all the girls around never seemed to catch on to the idea that knee-length shorts are remarkably becoming and fashionable. *sigh* Some people don't know how to move with the times. But the sore thumb feeling existed mostly just at the beginning, and nobody ever said anything (Sam only commented that she loved how I wore so much "flowy clothing") or made me feel in the slightest bit weird, and by the end of the time I almost had to remind myself of the time when I didn't feel like I fit in wearing my culottes. Fitting in is definitely over-rated, as I can imagine my friend Erinn saying. In my mind though, a little extra modesty isn't. So I wore my culottes with joy and a small measure of pride. Not pride as in "I'm better than you," but pride as in, "I don't mind being different." And thankfully, most of the time I don't.

Some of the music was different than I'm accustomed to as well. Notice I don't say it was bad, just different. Though I will admit that I was a little grieved to walk into my first chapel service and feel like I was walking into a high school basketball gym that's warming up before a game. Same style of music. Same volume. Can't hear the words to tell the difference that I'm sure was there. The band (DIFFERENT from the hip hop style played on the speakers ahead of time) was talented and sincere though, and I liked many of the songs I learned and appreciated the expressive lyrics. I think we can worship God with many kinds of music, and I was able to do so while at camp with their music. Some music just takes a little more concentration to focus on the One you're worshiping.

One thing I can't neglect to mention: Mountain Climbing Day! On both Wednesdays of each week, hiking is a mandatory activity after the morning gathering. If you're lazy you can go in the Leisurely group and not go up the mountain, but everyone is hiking whether they like it or not. Unless they're medically unfit. Or dead.

So we divided ourselves up into four groups: Extreme (where experienced hikers take a longer trail and half run up the mountain), Adventurous (steady/quick, few breaks), Diligent (steadier, more numerous and longer breaks), and Leisurely. I went with the Diligent group the first week and helped encourage people up the mountain, and the second week I went with the Adventurous group and mostly concentrated on getting up the mountain (1 hour 25 minutes, I believe, but that may have included walking to the park from the camp). Getting to know people a little along the way was entertaining too, and the camaraderie we built as fellow sufferers--er, hikers, was great. I even found out that the boy hiking alongside me was from my town! That was very exciting, especially since he was the only one I ever met, AND he lives only a couple miles down the road from where I live.

I also had a lot of fun showing people my house from the top. The second week was especially cool because I texted my family that I was looking at our house and my dad started flashing a mirror. Suddenly a bunch of kids were all commenting on the blinking house and I was able to tell them excitedly that it was my house and that my daddy loves me. Everyone acknowledged the wicked coolness of it all.

Coming down the mountain, in an effort as a counselor not to leave campers alone, I managed to end up with some of the stragglers of our smaller group. The first week it was two boys, one who talked almost the whole way largely of cartoons he'd seen, and another boy who whined more than any fourteen or fifteen year old I've heard in my life. The second week it was a girl who fell and thought she had sprained her toe. I didn't have anything with me to help her, but I offered to pray for her and when I asked her the next day how she was she told me her toe was fine! Perhaps her toe wasn't really injured, but I'd rather give God more credit rather than less.

Oh right, can't neglect a brief mention of the Bible Church! The second week a group came up from CT in a huge Peter Pan bus, bringing about fifty kids! Ay ay ay, we don't have a lot more than that in our entire church! Anyway, the group as a whole was loud yet lovable (some of them were African Americans), and I really enjoyed getting to know the leaders/counselors who came up with them, all of whom practically opened up their arms to me and everybody else. If the whole group had a quirk, it was their fanaticism for their church. They had a whole yelling rally cry that they frequently employed that went something like this:

Leader (rhythmic, singsong): I say "Bible," you say "Church!" "Bible!"

Everyone: "Church!"

"Bible!"

"Church!"

I came home and told Craig about it and we tried saying it with our church name.

Craig: I say "Fairwood" you say "Bible Chapel." "Fairwood!"

Me: "Bible Chapel."

"Fairwood!"

"Bible Chapel!"

It really doesn't have the same ring. :)


As I wind down my lengthy report (you may have stopped reading this long ago), I'll share a few special moments I had throughout my two long adventurous weeks. Two or three of them were one-on-one times with God where I had to cry to Him for help and strength. One of them was when I saw one of the "cool guys" outside on the porch reading his Bible an hour before breakfast. How exciting is that? Another time was when I sat on my bed on a Sabbath eve listening to 100 + young people singing Amazing Grace into the 11:30 darkness outside my window. We had been sent singing from our final meeting shortly after eleven. I went inside because I was cold, but most of the young people didn't want to leave the cross that stood outside the doorway, and they just stood and sang common worship songs on into the night for another thirty or forty minutes. It was awe-inspiring to hear.

So finally, last Saturday I climbed back into my boat. In other words, I came home. While out of my little ship I learned a lot about trusting God, about letting God be God, and about letting Him be the one who gets the attention. I was blessed by messages I heard and by hearts I saw touched. My prayer list has lengthened as I've seen many needy young people and have heard their stories. I met many Christians who are passionate about God like I am if not more so, and I think I gained some friends while I was at it.

It's never a waste to walk on water.

Sugar Explosion

I left the world of dragons and gnomes behind. Having just finished my book, Magic Kingdom For Sale, I meandered into the kitchen and peaked into the fridge and freezer. Sitting in the freezer was Craig's Nalgene, partially filled with iced coffee. A light flicked on in my cranium, and I decided that of course I wanted iced coffee as well! (This wasn't just because I wanted to copy my brother; I happen to like iced coffee exceedingly, provided it has enough cream and sugar and isn't liable to keep me awake all night)

I set to it.

Only, in the process I got a little carried away. You see, the last time I made iced coffee was when I made a pitcher for my family. At the time I made the mistake of forgetting to add the sugar while the water was hot so it was difficult to make it dissolve. Well, Kayla rarely makes the same mistake twice . . . so I poured the sugar into my VERY potent four ounces of boiling water. (Imagine drinking two servings of coffee and a lot of sugar black in that condensed mixture. Shudder . . . )

There was a problem.

I soon realized that in my zest for sweetness and pride in my cleverness (I wasn't making the same mistake twice, remember?) I had forgotten one crucial point.

I was no longer making a pitcherful of coffee. I only had enough decaf coffee for two servings, and I had unthinkingly poured in about as much sugar to satisfy an army with sweet tooths. Well, probably not an army, but maybe a family.

Gulp.

There's no way I'm wasting that coffee.

So I'm drinking it anyway, even if my face is inclined to a benign grimace as I do so.

Maybe I'll drink it quick so I can enjoy one of Craig's peach smoothies.

Creeks, speed limit signs, and freedom

I am having an amazing vacation. Seriously! I'm staying in an air conditioned, modern town house in the mid South (thanks to some extremely generous and awesome relatives), and sleeping in until ten or eleven every morning (shocking, I know). I've almost made a point to do little productive reading. War and Peace (I've started the second volume now) has been gathering dust while I've eagerly been devouring the second and third books of the Mysterious Benedict Society, and now I'm feasting on some Terry Brooks. If I have time I hope to dig into some P.G. Wodehouse before I'm completely done. Besides that, I've done very little. Oh yes, we've gone into town a few times to do some exploring or brief shopping. I've played games with my mom, watched TV with my dad, and gone swimming in a nearby creek with Craig.

The creek was the perfect thing to do in the blistering heat. Even though it only went up to our knees it felt deliciously cool to lie down and douse ourselves. Craig showed me that it was even possible to float in the super shallow water if you held your breath the right way, and I let the current carry me a little ways downstream. I only stopped because there were some creepy guys (who happened to be Hispanic) sitting on the bank a little ways down and I didn't really want to go by them, though I'm sure they saw me and probably took no notice. Between floating, Craig and I sat in the water and found lots of perfect rocks to skip. I had had little success in the recent past in skipping stones, but this time I discovered that when I'm sitting on level with the water I can skip stones proficiently enough. Not very well, mind you, but just well enough to excite me. My talents in that area have been considerably dry.

One day, I decided to brave the heat and humidity (which was quite decent even at quarter to eight in the evening) and go running. I settled on a golfing community across the street, and the whole thing was pretty uneventful, except for one tiny observation. I saw a speed limit sign that said 19 1/2 miles per hour! Wow, wonders never cease. Actually, I thought it was kind of funny when only a few days earlier I had seen a sign that said 19 mph. I was musing about this sight out loud (why would anyone do something like that?) when my dad pointed out that it was good for making people THINK about it. He got me there. I was thinking a LOT more about the speed limit than I would have if the sign had read a blase 20 mph. And I DEFINITELY looked twice or thrice when I saw a sign that said 19 1/2 mph. Mission accomplished, I guess. Who knows how fast I might have run if the sign hadn't been there?

After several days of doing pretty much nothing (sounds wonderful, doesn't it?), we finally ventured forth to do something different. Not only did we stop at Good Will and later Dairy Queen (pretty much a vacation tradition in our family), but we went to see the Battlefield of Antietam. I suppose it's not that much more exciting than most battle fields, but it was quite thought provoking for me. You see, not only was Antietam labeled "the bloodiest battle of the Civil War" (with 23,000 + casualties in the 12 hours of fighting, 4 times as many American casualties as there were on D-day), but the whole place was so serene and peaceful. Cornfields rippled lazily in the late afternoon breeze, round hay bales dotted the green landscape, and blue mountains rose gently to majestically fringe the horizon. We crossed Burnside's Bridge (Ambrose Burnside, as you may or may not be aware, is the general whose name has brought us the term that we use to refer to sideburns) where about 500 Georgia Confederates held out against Union attack for three hours or more. I walked across the bridge in awe, surveying the calm water and thinking about the scenes that this bridge had witnessed. It's amazing how such an idyllic place could host such carnage.

It makes me think, and it makes me feel grateful. Grateful for the beauty of God's creation that can remain unmarred by man's sanguinary conflicts. And grateful for those who so willingly spill their blood so that others may feel the pulse of freedom coursing through their veins.

They died so that that freedom wouldn't spill out.

The Unromantic Prince

Here's a humble tale I haphazardly composed today "just for fun." It's been a long time since I've written a story for pleasure!

"Quiddlyoomph," a miniature booming voice squeaked from my breast pocket. Please don't ask me how a voice can boom and squeak at the same time. If you knew my gecko friend, you would know.

I blinked in mild surprise at my pocket. "What did you say?" I asked.

"You heard me," was the terse answer. "Quiddlyoomph. It is my new expression to convey annoyance. Much more eloquent than 'humph,' I dare say." Martin, my friend and constant companion, blinked his beady eyes at me as if to say, "Just you try to argue with me." I didn't even want to try.

"Oh, very well, old chap," I replied. "'Quiddlyoomph' all you want, I suppose, though I must say it's a trifle distracting. I could have fallen over backward into that chasm I was just leaping over, just from the mere shock of the thing. I hope you weren't too badly jarred from the leap, old fellow."

Martin's black eyes looked like they went through a reverse clay baking process. That is, one moment they were hard and beady, the next they were moist lumps of clay. "Oh, if you must shake me up a bit in here in order to save lives, I suppose I can try not to complain. I'll limit myself to minor tits of 'quiddle'; now how does that sound?"

"Capital," I answered, and smiled. Now back to business. Casually I strode toward the ancient castle before me, whose broken bridge I had just leaped over. The whole premises was a perfect specimen of fossilized magnificence. If it weren't for the broken bridge, huge masses of overgrown brambles, and the faint sound of rusty chains grinding, I would have supposed the place was in its prime, not unlike my own castle, where I lived with my parents and twelve sisters.

I drew my sword (a hag had given it to me before coming here) and slashed easily through the brambles. The average branches were only six inches in diameter so I had no trouble.

"You know, you might be disappointing that hag by how easily you're cutting through those," Martin observed from my pocket. "She was quite convinced that these brambles would be impossible for you unless you wielded her magic sword. I'm afraid you're not allowing the magic enough time to kick in."

"Oh, sorry," I said, and paused my slicing. "Do you suppose I should wait a bit and do this more slowly? Would that be the kindest thing to do?"

Martin rolled his eyes. Don't ask me how one can tell that a gecko with no irises is rolling his eyes. Friends just have a sixth sense about these things.

"Don't bother," he said. "We may as well get on with it. The king and queen, in fact, the whole royal family is quite anxious that you don't blow it this time."

"I know," I replied, a little embarrassed. "I truly wish I could give everybody satisfaction, but you see it's rather difficult to do that and maintain my convictions of kindness and chivalry."

"I know, I know," Martin sighed. "But you don't have to be quite so concerned for the well-being of others. Like the time when the queen arranged it for you to be turned into a frog. Why, that maiden actually wanted to kiss you, and you had to spoil everything and run away from her!"

I was a little hurt. "I told her quite positively that she would get warts if she touched me, and it was only for fear of her own safety that I fled so I wouldn't have to inflict such a hardship on her."

"But then she chased you," Martin pointed out. "Didn't that kind of give you a hint that she actually didn't care if she got warts or not? And besides, frogs don't give warts. The myth is that toads do, so your excuses were extra erroneous."

"Oh," I said, a little crestfallen. How stupid I was! Perhaps I should have let the poor girl kiss me after all.

Martin chuckled, "I must say, however, that it was quite the amusing sight to see that prim and proper maiden chase you about the swamp through mud and slime. She was so determined to marry a prince!"

I smiled at the recollection. "Yes, that was kind of funny, wasn't it? And I rather enjoyed having such springy legs, enabling me to always be one hop out of her reach." I sobered a little. "But the queen was furious with me afterwards."

"She was," Martin agreed. "But then she always is. Especially after that whole situation with Rapunzel. That was really pathetic, you know, and especially embarrassing because Rodrigo, your old rival, ended up with the prize! Was climbing up the girl's hair really that hard to do?"

I was a little offended this time. "How could you say such a thing, Martin? Of course the actually climb would have been nothing, but when she offered me her tresses as a climbing device all I could think of was Sanders."

"Sanders?" Martin asked skeptically. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Sanders, as you know, was my tutor. One of my more strict tutors," I grimaced. My scalp just tingled at the thought of him. "And he had a habit of pulling my hair, yes, and even dragging me by my hair, even insisting that I not walk so that it would hurt all the more."

"Oy, no wonder your father got rid of him," Martin winced sympathetically, which was quite remarkable considering the fact that he'd never had any hair in his life. I nodded. "But," Martin persisted, "what does Sanders have to do with Rapunzel?"

"Everything," I told him. "When her long hair hung down by me all I could think of was Sanders, and I couldn't imagine bestowing such excruciating pain on this fair damsel by hanging my whole weight on her lovely locks. I knew those locks were still attached to her scalp, you see."

"I never thought of that," Martin said quietly, apparently touched. "But how come she didn't appreciate your thoughtfulness?"

"Well, after working for two hours to climb up the face of the tower (there were hardly any footholds, you know, and what crevices there were never exceeded an inch in measurement), I finally arrived at Rapunzel's window. She was rather frightened when she first saw me, and then she grew very angry. 'What? You mean I've been waiting and growing my hair this long for nothing?' Then she pushed me out the window. I managed to scrabble at tiny nooks in the wall enough to break my fall so I wasn't too badly injured."

"You mean you only took two hours to climb up practically bare rock face? And then she was foolish enough to not see your heroism and shove you out the window? Quiddlyoomph! Sounds like she wasn't worth it anyway."

I shrugged and continued. "As I was surveying the damage done to my body (only a couple broken bones, nothing to be too concerned about), Rodrigo appeared. He would have liked to think that he appeared in magnificent splendor, but I knew he was just appearing so he could one up me. He had watched the whole episode, and so he came and asked Rapunzel to let down her golden hair. Down it came, up he went, and the rest is history."

"Good riddance," Martin snapped. "Sounds like they deserved each other."

I said nothing. I had allowed my sword strokes to slow down to let the magic kick in (the sword must have been magic because the weapon still sliced the thickest brambles even though I was only using an ounce of my strength), and now the path to the main gate of the castle was open. I stopped, taken aback, but then I realized that I shouldn't have been. Wasn't my mother always trying to come up with some extraordinary way for me to find a bride? And didn't I overhear her say that this castle was enchanted? Asleep, would have been the better term, for sitting a few paces in front of me were two guards in heavy slumber, leaning against their spears.

And then I knew what the noise I had been hearing was. What had at first sounded like rusty chains grinding was in fact the sound of snoring. Lots of snoring.

After trying to awaken the two guards, ("Dear sirs, you must awake!" "Open sesame, oh eyes!") I managed to open the heavy, half-rotten gates and the sound of snoring only heightened. It was not a continual sound, but a continual sporadic jumble, quite like the sound of popcorn popping. Only, as I walked into the courtyard, this popcorn was all around me as if I were in a surround-sound amphitheater of frogs. Here was a guard I had just passed, letting loose an ominous growl from deep within his barrel-like chest. Here was the high-pitched chortle of a stable boy who must have been crossing the yard on some errand. And there was the delicate, pinched snore of a scullery maid, or the faint sighs of a grand young lady leaning against the dilapidated steps of a carriage. Everywhere were people scattered here in there in noisy repose, dreaming dreams of thunderous splendor. Sometimes, by chance, certain snores came in unison, other times in harmony.

"Looks like we have a choir," Martin remarked dryly. "This might be your most interesting adventure yet. Let's go find the princess."

I gazed at my friend, not surprised by his attitude. A feeling of dread filled me. Did I really want to go through with this? A part of me so longed to do the right thing, to be accepted by my family and even a lovely girl, but I felt like I was going about it in the wrong way. Why did finding a bride have to be something wrapped up in glamor and excitement? Wouldn't it be just as romantic if I met an ordinary girl that I loved, asked her to marry me and she said yes? No bells or whistles?

"Martin, I have a feeling I'm going to mess up again," I told my friend. He looked sharply at me. I sighed. "But I do so want to do the right thing."

"You always do the right thing," my gecko friend's emphatic words pounded into my skull. This time I was astounded, and I searched his green little face for sarcasm but saw none. "Never mind the fact that you don't always do what pleases your bossy mother, or your father, for that matter. And forget your silly sisters. You've always done the most gracious and most right thing anybody could have thought of, unlike some princes I could name."

"Martin, I can take disparaging comments about Rodrigo, but if you're talking about Michael I won't have anything said maligning him," I said.

"Oh, I know you won't," Martin retorted, exasperated. "But you were so close, Jed! You had the glass slipper in your hand, you had the sweet little lady's trim foot in the other, and all you had to do was slip the thing on and ask her if she would marry you, but you didn't."

"I was thinking how uncomfortable a glass slipper must really be," I answered calmly. "I looked at it and saw that it was not shaped to fit the contour of one's foot, and judging by the size of the shoe and her foot, I could tell that the shoe was one centimeter too small. I couldn't bear to jam it onto her like that. Oh she would have pretended that her tears were tears of joy but I would have known better. I just couldn't do it to her."

"So you handed the shoe to that Michael instead," Martin said.

"My friend Michael," I corrected him.

"Oh yes," Martin replied. I could tell his head was practically bulging with sarcasm now. "Your nice friend who stole the closest chance you'd ever had to happiness! Why did you do it, Jed?"

"I could tell that she liked him," I replied stiffly. "And I could tell that he liked her. I knew it wouldn't make much difference to her which prince she married, so I figured that two people may as well be happy because I knew that in my case we could not."

"Yes, yes, I know," Martin nodded, resigned. "But I don't think she got the real Prince Charming, in my opinion."

"Thank you, Martin," I still spoke stiffly, but I was really grateful for his regard. "But I know that you're a little biased."

Martin snorted. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

I nodded, and proceeded to enter the castle. Up and down the long passageways and great halls we traversed (rather, I traversed, Martin enjoyed the view from my pocket), brushing aside the many cobwebs that obstructed our path. I didn't even bother to use the sword on them, although I suspected that the "enchanted" sword would do an extra good job. It was beneath me and my sword to use it on cobwebs.

"I saw Katherine the other day," Martin remarked. He looked slyly up at me.

"Really, where?" I tried not to sound too eager.

"Out tending the goats."

I smacked my head. Of course, I should have checked the fields!

Katherine was the daughter of one my mother's former ladies in waiting. We had grown up playing together, but as we got older my mother had decided that it was unfit for me to associate with someone so far below my station, so she had removed Katherine from our royal presence. It wasn't until I was in the kitchen dutifully calling on a princess (my mother had persuaded her to disguise herself as a scullery maid--it was another of my mother's romantic schemes) that I discovered that Katherine was also employed as a scullery maid. The princess ended up marrying another prince (a friend of mine who was visiting at the time), but Katherine had disappeared. I had searched all the servant halls and even the village; I had even entreated my mother to let me see Katherine again, but all my efforts had proven fruitless.

I wrenched my mind to the task at hand. This had to be the room. We were in the tallest of towers, and I was quite sure the princess would not be in a dungeon. I reached the top of the stairs (I had scaled 123 of them mindlessly and effortlessly) and here was a door. I nodded at Martin, then pushed the door. It opened slowly with a shrill and ponderous creak.

Inside there was a bed, and on this bed lay a beautiful princess. I was hardly dumbfounded. Her golden curls (not nearly as long as Rapunzel's) were spread so as to delicately wreathe her pretty face, and her hands were gently clasped over her (her hands weren't as grasping as the princess who wanted to kiss a frog), and a trim little foot peaked out from under her full pink dress (the foot wasn't quite as small as Cinderella's). I would have thought she was dead except for the giggly snore that resounded all around her, as well as the faint trace of fresh drool that trickled from her rosebud lips.

"Well?" Martin asked.

"Well?" I pretended to look clueless.

"Well?" Martin was not famous for patience. "Aren't you going to kiss her?"

I involuntarily recoiled in horror. "Kiss . . . a beautiful maiden . . . invade her personal space without her permission . . . before we're even engaged?" I was incredulous to say the least. How could anyone expect this of me? The thought of kissing her was not quite so abhorrent to me personally (although I eyed the line of drool a little distastefully), but I couldn't imagine crushing this girl's poor innocence or going beyond the realm of propriety for her sake. Why, her reputation could be ruined by such a foolish action! I would just as soon destroy her virginity.

"Well, at the very least you could administer some CPR," Martin pointed out. "She looks like she could need it."

Sure enough, the snoring had ceased, and her frame lay very still with no gentle heaving. "You're right," I said. "It would be most inconsiderate to not help the poor girl when I know she's in distress." Glancing rapidly around the room (my eye took in the spindle and a bed of straw), I picked up a fat piece of straw and examined it. Having been assured that it was hollow, I carefully placed one end in the girl's mouth and gently closed her lips around it. Then I blew forcefully through the other end, administering CPR in such a decorous manner that I knew it could in nowise be offensive to any lady being treated by a strange man. I was only glad that I had brushed my teeth that morning.

Minutes later, the princess's breathing resumed and her eye lids fluttered open. Startled, she stared at me peering down at her at the other end of the straw. Then her eyes crossed as she took in the straw. I quickly removed it, and backed away to give her space, bowing slightly.

"Wha--" she looked very confused. "You were supposed to kiss me! Oh, this isn't the LEAST bit romantic!" And with that exclamation, she burst into tears.

****************************************************************

"I'm not happy, Prince Jedidiah," my mother informed me coldly. "Not happy."

"I'm very sorry about Princess Aurora, Mother," I said. "But I must tell you that I am very happy. Exceedingly happy. You see, Mother, I'm finally getting married."

The queen sat down abruptly in her chair, looking like she was about to choke. "And to what kingdom," she stammered as she regained her composure. "Does this princess belong?"

"To this kingdom, dear Mother."

She looked shocked, "Jedidiah, you know that marriage to one of your sisters is quite out of the question!"

"Of course I know that, Mother," I laughed, although I was very relieved. I'm sure if it hadn't been wrong both morally and legally my mother in desperation WOULD have made me marry one of my sisters. I love my sisters, but not in that sort of way. "No, and this lady isn't a princess yet."

"Not a princess?" Again, shock and horror.

"No, but she will be when I marry her," I stated.

"Oh," this had obviously never occurred to the queen before now. "And what, pray, were the circumstances of your engagement?"

"Quite romantic enough for everybody concerned, Mother," I assured her. "I proposed to her on the manure pile and after falling over and sliding down to her feet she said yes."

My mother fainted, but I decided not to be too concerned for her. I knew she would get over it.

You see, for the first time I realized that the kindest thing wasn't to keep on agreeing to these "bride schemes" of my mother's. Not only were they disappointing to everybody concerned whenever I failed their expectations, but I realized that even if I did succeed it would be discourteous to the princess I had won. Because, you see, my heart had long belonged to another, and to pretend otherwise would have been abominable behavior indeed. So I married Katherine, and the circumstances of our engagement were certainly romantic enough for both of us. Who needs to come up romantic circumstances when there's already romance between two people?

As Martin would say, "Quiddlyoomph."

Vacation updates

New status updates:

Kayla just finished a peach smoothie expertly concocted by her brother.

Kayla is kept laughing whenever she watches her parents regularly tease each other. Vacation is never boring.

Kayla has been inhaling tales of The Mysterious Benedict Society.

Kayla is happy that Craig came on vacation too.

Sermons in bite-sized pieces

Through the course of the past year or so, I had occasion to come across several quotes that I've written down for my (and your) interest and edification.

Be still and know
Be still, let go
Be still and know
That I am God.

Oh what I would do to have
The kind of faith it takes to climb out this boat I'm in
Onto the crashing waves
To step out of my comfort zone
Into the realm of the unknown
Where Jesus is
And He's holding out His hand
But the waves are calling out my name
And they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed
The waves, they keep telling me
Time and time again
"Boy, you'll never win. You'll never win!"

But the Voice of Truth
Tells me a different story
The Voice of Truth
Says, "Do not be afraid."
And the Voice of Truth
Says, "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe
The Voice of Truth.

(I find that very encouraging as I gear up to be a counselor for my first time in a couple of weeks!)

"If you have given your heart to Jesus, Jesus has already given Himself to you."
--Max Lucado

"Wear the mask until you become conformed to it."
--C. S. Lewis

"Your time with God should last long enough for you to say what you want and for God to say what He wants."
--Max Lucado, Just Like Jesus

"Obedience is the doorway into joy."
--TFM

"I will serve Thee because I love Thee."

"I need no other sunshine than the sunshine of Thy face."

"We can enter into the holiest and find ourselves, not smitten down, but at home."
--TFM

"What you say 'wow' about is a form of worship."
--NRS

"Every time we claim victory, it drive the Truth in deeper."
--Dan M.

"We should become what we are."
--John Piper

"The key to changing the world is having Christians in joint with God."
--NRS

"God uses unexpected people to use unexpected tools to see His work done."
--NRS

"We may not have the opportunity to die for Christ, but we have the opportunity to live for Christ." --Ben H.

"When we look on and see what Jesus has done for us, there's no way we can be apathetic."
--Clyde S.

"Beholding the face of God is not a future hope, it's a present reality."
--Dan P.

"There's a battle out there, but sometimes the battle is just to see that there's a battle."
--Dennis P.

"Pressing on with zeal to be a living sacrifice to Thee."

"The glory of God is man fully alive."
--Saint Irenaeus

"We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us . . ."
--Nelson Mandela

"It is the image of God reflected in you that so enrages hell; it is this at which the demons hurl their mightiest weapons."
--William Gurnall

"If it doesn't bring freedom and it doesn't bring life, it's not Christianity. If it doesn't restore the image of God and rejoice in the heart, it's not Christianity."
--John Eldrige, Waking the Dead (the three previous quotes were in his book as well)

"I ended my first book with the words no answer. I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?"
--C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

Thou art a sea without a shore;
Awful, immense Thou art,
A sea which can contract itself
Within my narrow heart.
--Faber

"When faith becomes obedience then it is true faith indeed."
--A.W. Tozer

"It had opened her eyes to the fact that right down in the depths of her own heart she really had but one passionate desire, not for the things which the Shepherd had promised, but for Himself. All she wanted was to be allowed to follow Him forever. Other desires might clamor strongly and fiercely nearer the surface of her nature, but she knew now that down in the core of her own being she was so shaped that nothing could fit, fill, or satisfy her heart but He Himself."
--Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places

"When people worship anyone or anything besides Him, they become like it. God has better intentions for His people."
--Steven C. Hawthorne, The Story of His Glory

"By wooing people into true worship, God is able to fully bestow His love upon them."
--Steven C. Hawthorne, The Story of His Glory

". . . the ultimate value of their salvation is not what they are saved from, but what they are saved for that really matters."
--Hawthorne

"God is not just loving people. He is transforming them to become people who can fully love Him." --Hawthorne

"Human enthusiasm cannot sustain apostolic passion."
--Floyd McClung, Apostolic Passion

"If you have apostolic passion, you are one of the most dangerous people on the planet. The world no longer rules your heart . . . The Father's passions have become your passions. You find your satisfaction and significance in Him . . . You are sold out to God, and you live for the Lamb."
--Floyd McClung, Apostolic Passion

"Great victory has never been possible without great sacrifice."
--Sameul Zwemer, The Glory of the Impossible

"Do not pray for easy lives; pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be a miracle."
--Bishop Phillips Brooks (?)

"There is no instance of an Apostle being driven abroad under the compulsion of a bald command. Each one went as a lover to his betrothed on his appointed errand."
--Samuel Zwemer, The Glory of the Impossible

"Look at yourself, and you are horrified,
Look at Him, and your are glorified."
--quoted in class by Dan M., but I don't know if he came up with it or someone else did.

"The Bride lets God define beauty."
--Dan M.

"To be a witness does not consist in engaging propaganda, not even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one's life would not make sense if God did not exist."
--Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water

"Oh boy! I'm going to devour more of God's Word!"
--TFM's interpretation of Jeremiah's attitude in Jer. 15:16

"The steadfast love of Jehovah never ceases; His mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."
Lam. 3 something

"God loves the stupid woman."
--TFM

"When you stand your ground, the devil loses his."

"One thing is needful."

"Cling to the heart of God, even when His ways don't make sense."
--Dan M.

"The good is the enemy of the best."
--NRS

"If the Enemy reminds you of your past, you remind him of his future."

"He is good. I am His."

"Faith that is sure of itself is not faith; faith that is sure of God is the only faith there is."
--Oswald Chambers

"God used the worst act ever committed by wicked men to accomplish the greatest good the world has ever known."
--Dan M. (he could have been quoting; my notes weren't clear)

"Faith steps out into the seeming void and finds the Rock beneath."

"Because her identification was embodied not in who she was but in who her bridegroom was--her beauty was reflected beauty."
--Jerry Benjamin, Who Has the Right to Rule?

"Religious contentment is the enemy of the spiritual life always."
--A.W. Tozer, God's Pursuit of Man

"Resisting worldliness is absolutely vital but not ultimately significant. Jesus Christ is most important. We must fight worldliness because it dulls our affections for Christ and distracts our attention from Christ. Worldliness is so serious because Christ is so glorious."
--C.J. Mahaney, Worldliness

Some of that stuff is going to be written on stickies and placed around my bedroom. :) I hope you found as much encouragement from these statements as I did!

A summer report

The idea has fomented in the old melon that perhaps there's a poor soul out in the wasteland that is simply dying for a drop of solid gold news as to what this gal is doing this summer. Well, I'll tell you a thing or two, though I'm not inclined to go into detail. Besides trotting about places like Georgia and Maine as well as soaking in a few days of solitary vacation, this body has so far been sporadically dedicated to completing her summer work, more or less. And, I'm happy to announce, that as of last Friday night I have successfully completed this year's summer work duty!

My final week of summer work, however, was not just any week of summer work. It was my first experience of actually working during the Family Convention. What joys of mixed pleasure and stress! My physical work was extremely minimal, but my mental work was fairly considerable. One day I'm at my wits' end and have no idea what I'm doing, and two days later I'm feeling almost guilty for having so few responsibilities. You see, I had the privilege of leading the youth in their drama activity, and although I was greatly blessed with the assistance and moral support of the expert Aunt Sharon, the responsibility and overall ideas and direction lay on my shoulders.

The first day wasn't so bad. I had decided that I didn't want to take the "throw a huge script at you" approach but wanted to do drama with a more laid-back, "let's ad-lib, have fun, and do some REAL acting" approach. So, to prepare my actors, I decided to hone their creativity skills by playing some acting games that required lots of ad-libbing. This seemed to go well, but as the games wound to a halt I realized with horror that I still had no idea what we were going to do next. I had hoped that some inspiration would fall from the sky as they worked out their own little skits, but none came plopping down on me. Unless my thick skull was too impenetrable to see them. Not quite sure what to do next, I let them play a certain game that they had liked again and then dismissed them.

Now what?

About half a dozen ideas were swimming around in my head, but none of them seemed to click. This sounded too dumb, that sounded too complicated, etc, etc. I sat down after dinner with a couple of the older guys (Ryan and Daniel, plus David since he happened to be around anyway) and bounced my ideas off of them to see what they thought. They were relatively neutral, but pretty supportive.

"Which idea do you like best?" my cousin Ryan asked me. Surprised, I mentioned one or two of the ideas that seemed more appealing. The basic gist of what he conveyed to me next was that I was the leader and he'd be happy to do whatever I wanted them to, and he was sure that whatever they did would turn out to be funny either way. Wow, talk about loyalty . . . or something. Perhaps what I was most concerned about was coming up with something that they didn't hate acting out, and his assurances pretty much dissuaded my fears.

But that still left me without a clue.

So I decided to go to the youth meeting. I had a lot of work to do to figure out what I was doing, and I was even on breakfast the next morning, but I decided that being supportive was worth it . . . especially since I was misinformed so that I thought that my brother was having the meeting, when he wasn't (it took me about a third of the meeting to be convinced of that though). As it turned out, going to that meeting was just what I needed. In the course of the meeting a certain point was brought out: It's not enough to say that you want God. Our wants can change. We have to come to the point where we can say that we need God.

That hit home for me. And it was a grand slam. Not only could I think of ways that this applied to my life in general, but I could very specifically relate that message to the whole drama activity situation. I decided that I needed to pray more seriously about it. Of course I had prayed about it already . . . I certainly wanted God and His blessing on drama so that it would go well, but I still felt like the ideas had to come from me. That wasn't working so well, and I was faced with a certain realization: I needed God.

As I realized how desperately I actually needed God and His help, I found myself turning to Him. And as I found myself turning to Him and seeking Him, a certain phrase came to me from Acts, one that had been quoted in meeting from that morning, "What I do have I give to you." I started thinking about the drama practice from that day. I recalled the games that we had played, certain characters that had been acted well, and certain quotes that were memorable. Ruth had made a first-rate snobby opera singer. How would she do if she were a haughty queen? Timothy had made a classic picture of a dad that kept on insisting that his embarrassed son (aka Ryan) "Had no idea what he was dealing with." Alex had looked like a cool, shady character with those sunglasses on . . . and his emphatic, "Thou shalt not kill," could be very amusing if used repeatedly. What if he were a Secret Service type guy who never spoke unless to utter one of the Ten Commandments? David had made a remarkably great weepy toddler, and his "I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request" could be hilarious coming from a little kid. I scribbled down a few ideas, then went to bed, staying awake quite awhile as ideas rushed in. A skit idea had been born.

So yes. The long and the short of it is that my seven-person drama team put on fairly modern version of the story of David (or "Dave," who plays the ukulele and slew the giant robots with his nerf gun) as he met Queen Saulette, fought hard side-by-side with his best friends Jonathan and Hushai, and eventually was chased away by the Queen when she tried to "sic" her pet monkey on him. The final scene was one that was used in the family devotions that week, when David had to demonstrate self-control by not killing Saul. And believe it or not, we packed in the Fruit of the Spirit (which was the theme of the week) and slow-motion battle scenes to the music of Pirates of the Caribbean (one of my favorite ideas) in there as well. I think God truly blessed it, not just because we wanted Him, but because we needed Him.

Now the Convention is over and I'm taking "a breather." What more awaits me this summer? Well, it looks like next month I'm going to be a counselor for a two week teen camp on the other side of the mountain. Now that I finally know that I was accepted I'm a little scared, but I think it will be a splendid opportunity to rely on the Holy Spirit and grow in my relationship with Him as I make new friends in totally new Christian circles.

Other than that, my options are somewhat up in the air. At this point I'm planning on starting into my summer work for next year, so that could occupy quite some time (up to four weeks even, if I do that much). Besides that, my dad and I have been exploring other educational opportunities, like taking a TESL course to prepare me for future short-term missions possibilities, and maybe taking a desk-top publishing course to assist with our church's magazine, Times of Restoration, since Kendra who is currently in charge of production is planning on going overseas for at least a year. But who knows? My summer could still hold very different things.

Outside the Camp

Latest (so far) unposted status updates:

"Kayla is fiddling around."

"Late evening conversations with siblings are the best."

And now here's a poem that Uncle Tim gave us in class. I've found much encouragement from it, and maybe you will too.

The Young Christian

I cannot give it up
The little world I know--
The innocent delights of youth,
The things I cherish so!
'Tis true, I love my Lord,
And long to do His will;
But oh, I may enjoy the world
And be a Christian still!

I love the hour of prayer,
I love the hymns of praise,
I love the blessed Word which tells
Of God's redeeming grace.
But--I am human still!
And while I dwell on earth,
God surely will not grudge the hours
I spend in harmless mirth!

These things belong to youth,
And are its natural right--
My dress, my pastimes and my friends,
The merry and the bright.
My Father's heart is kind!
He will not count it ill
That my small corner of the world
Should please and hold me still.

And yet--"outside the camp"--
'Twas there my Saviour died!
It was the world that cast Him forth
And saw Him crucified.
Can I take part with those
Who nailed Him to the tree?
And where His Name is never praised,
Is that the place for me?

Nay, world! I turn away,
Though thou seem fair and good;
That friendly outstretched hand of thine
Is stained with Jesus' blood.
If in thy lease device
I stoop to take a part,
All unaware, thine influence steals
God's presence from my heart.

I miss my Saviour's smile,
Whene'er I walk thy ways;
Thy laughter drowns the Spirit's voice,
And chokes the springs of praise.
Whene'er I turn aside
To join thee for and hour,
The face of Christ grows blurred and dim,
And prayer has lost its power!

Farewell--Henceforth my place
Is with the Lamb who died.
My Sovereign! While I have Thy love,
What can I want beside?
Thyself, blest Lord, art now
My free and loving choice,
In whom, though now I see Thee nought,
Believing, I rejoice.

Shame on me that I sought
Another joy than this,
Or dreamed a heart at rest with Thee
Could crave for earthly bliss!
These vain and worthless things,
I put them all aside:
His goodness fills my longing soul,
And I am satisfied.

Lord Jesus! Let me dwell
"Ouside the camp" with Thee!
Since Thou art there, then there alone,
Is peace and rest for me.
Thy dear reproach to bear
I'll count my highest gain,
Till Thou return, Rejected On,
To take Thy power, and reign!
--Margaret Mauro (aged 22)

"Let us go forth therefore unto Him without the camp, bearing His reproach."
Hebrews 13:13

I've found this poem helpful when I find myself distracted from true reality and am caught up in the pleasures of this world. But even more I've found certain phrases to be just what I need when I'm longing for something more that I can't even quite name:

"My Sovereign--while I have Thy love, What can I want beside?"

"His goodness fills my longing soul, And I am satisfied."

Perhaps what I'm actually longing for is right where I left it. And He's just waiting for me to realize it.

Spider Slayer

Today I completed my third week of summer work. For those of you who are subconsciously going "Huh?" "summer work" is the four weeks that each of us students are required to work in order to pay off our school tuition. And considering all the benefits of living and attending FBI, and realizing that the only other money you pay is basically to cover room and board, the deal is not too shabby.

So any way, I've finished my third week! Now all that is left is the week of the Family Convention, which could be a challenge, but I expect it's going to be heaps of fun. What kind of work do we normally do? Well, all kinds. I'll only bother to tell you a few of the things that I've done; if I tried to mention everything it might include for anybody (girls and guys), it could be quite lengthy. Things I've done have included weeding, edging, watering, scrubbing floors for them to be waxed, turning a gray piano bench into a wood-colored one, defrosting and re-organizing a mess of a freezer (making a list of the numerous things you had no idea were in there--like a paint brush), spot cleaning carpets, shampooing carpets, scrubbing stairs with ammonia, sanding, working magic on rust stains, painting, and of course cleaning.

The past couple of days I've actually gotten to do a few extra interesting things. After spending the majority of yesterday painting window panes, I got to help do some prep-work for the Family Convention. Although I won't divulge any secrets for the sake of those who might be attending, it involved doing things like getting fluorescent orange on my thumb and writing the word "patience" over and over again nineteen times (Cara said that maybe God was trying to tell me something :).

After working an eight hour day or so, I came home, made dinner, wrote a blog post, went for a five mile bike ride, and took a dip in the lake in my clothes (because Sarah and Ruth happened to be there and they invited me in). All in all, a fun, busy day.

Today, however was a little different. Since I'm one of the last girls to be working here before the Family Convention, my mom had certain cleaning jobs she wanted me to do before I stopped, so I tackled the men's and women's restrooms in the dining hall, two lodge rooms (plus vacuuming a third), the men's and women's restrooms in the lodge, and the community room. I did other things as well, of course, like watering flowers for Ruth or fetching or baking things for Kimberly (for the Fam Con :) or carrying in groceries from the gargantuan shopping trip that my mom, Diane, and Ruth took for the Fam Con, guys' week, and snack bar. But all that is boring old hat and I want to get to the issue mentioned in my title . . .

The men's bathroom in the dining hall was crawling with spiders. Okay, not like Indiana Jones style "covering the surface of the earth" type of crawling, but crawling enough for one little room. Don't ask me why the women's bathroom hardly had any--all I can suppose is that ladies have a lower tolerance of spiders so they get rid of them faster, which would make sense because there were more spiders in the men's bathroom of the lodge as well, though not as many. Anyway, I made short work of them. A brush towards the floor and a quick stomp was enough to quickly extinguish the miniscule life, if it's worthy of being called a life. I was feeling tough and a trifle smug at how unfrightened I was and how easy it was for me to step on them (having shoes on certainly helped :), but as it turned out, I was only facing the training ground.

I killed the first batch of spiders in the morning. During my lunch break, I posted a Facebook status: "Today I am a spider slayer. If you have eight legs, you'd better watch out . . . " or words to that effect. It made sense. I'd been killing spiders, and Aunt Sharon had asked me to take care of some cobwebs outside at the lodge so I suspected that I'd be killing a few more. It was a fitting status, I just didn't know how fitting.

I started on the spider webs at the lodge right after lunch. Aunt Sharon was right--the webs WERE bad. You had to be careful you didn't walk into some of them, and there were plenty way above my head that were even worse. I had expected to only de-cobweb the a few webs outside the rooms I had cleaned, but I ended up moving from web to web until I realized that the whole downstairs needed to be done.

I speak blithely of moving from web to web. The fact is that I didn't really move all that quickly. You see, as can be expected, these homes had inhabitants, and from what Aunt Sharon had said, I understood that these inhabitants needed to be exterminated. I remember the first one I killed. I suppose that by some standards he (or she) wasn't all that large, but considering the fact that I've never killed a spider with a body the size of a dime (or was it a penny?), it may as well have been Shelob. I say this as though it was a struggle to kill my first Shelob, but it wasn't. A quick stomp--then it was over, only, unlike the miniature spiders in the bathroom, this one had blood.

A lot of blood.

Well, that was to be expected, so I moved on and kept up the stomping. Only, contrary to what I would think to be popular opinion, it got harder every time. Seriously, I'm quite sure I squished at least ten spiders that were almost all equally humongous (the only one I kept away from was one that was hanging out near some wasp nests). The act itself was easy enough, only it was leaving a trail of silver-dollar sized brown-red stains in my wake that started to gross me out. Sometimes I frantically scraped my foot on the pavement as I visualized the spider blood there.

"Her feet were red with the blood of the spiders," came to my mind. Eventually I almost thought I could tell what fat, dead spiders smelled like, but I couldn't be sure.

Sweep.

Stomp.

Sweep.

Stomp.

My peanut-butter banana sandwich that I was rather full with suddenly seemed rather unappetizing. I kept killing, but the adventure was gone. I was a grim murderer, destroying for the sake of Fairwood's future guests, trying to shake off the sensation that there was still blood clinging to my Adidas flip-flop.

And suddenly I realized how Lady Macbeth must have felt.

Sort of.

An orange thumb and David Barton

So I was spray painting for summer work today and somehow I managed to paint half of my thumb a fluorescent orange. The bright flashy color is so much more attractive than the normal white splatters I've been getting lately so I haven't bothered to wash/scrape it off yet. However, the funny thing is that whenever I look at the screaming appendage all I can think of is my friend Klara holding up her thumb with a mischievous glare as she growls, "I killed a man with this thumb." (a quote from the kids' movie, Ratatouille, for those of you not in the know)

It makes me ridiculously happy each time, so much so that I almost can't bear to wash off the orange.

*******************************************

My parents are away for the night, gone to a pastors' conference for pastors all across the state. Newt Gingrich and David Barton are two of the primary speakers, and the event is so fancy that my parents' hotel stay is already paid for.

"Does it have a pool?" Craig asked at the dinner table tonight when he found out. I think he was a little jealous.

"Probably," Kendra answered.

I suggested that maybe they'd get to swim with David Barton.

"I wonder if he paddles as fast as he talks," Craig mused.

I can't help but picture the renowned speaker dog paddling at machine gun style speed to keep up with the rate of his talking.

The image amused me.

I was just chased and hugged by a two-and-a-half foot man

What would you think of that for a Facebook status? Alas, my life is full of random moments where I think, "Now this would make an interesting Facebook status." Indeed, sometimes I'm tempted to run to the computer and put it on-line just because I think it sounds interesting and I wonder if anybody would say anything about it. After all, too often when I'm on the silly web site and I feel like it's time I update the mini story of my life, I stare blankly at the screen and realize I have nothing unique to say. I suppose I could type, "Kayla is on Facebook." That would probably be so dull it would have an original flavor, and original is always ideal. But since I'm on the computer and am not currently doing anything else I cannot honestly say that I'm doing something when I'm not. So I guess I have to mention something I did or am about to do. Hmm. "Kayla just ate lunch." Um, no. "Kayla is going running." I wouldn't want to give the false impression that I'm a disciplined runner. Actually, in past summers I've been a very disciplined runner but I decided that I was letting it become somewhat of a god so now I usually only go running when I want to or feel like it. So if people don't realize how disciplined I actually am (or am not) then they would not expect me to be fast or in shape and they can be pleasantly surprised when they (and I) discover otherwise. No, "Kayla is going running" says way more than I want it to and it's BORING to boot.

I feel, however, like I am not alone in this quest for a "special" Facebook status. Many is the time when I scan over my friends' statuses and see the words of a song. Huh? What does a song have to do with your life? I guess it might describe how they're feeling or what's going on in their head, but still I don't see much point in it. Well, perhaps I can understand it if it were a Christian song that's helping them through, but what's the benefit of some love song that says

The night is dark
dark
dark
But you're on my mind
mind
mind
I think you're the sweetest angel with wiiiiiiiings
Oh yeah
Don't look down
Look at me
Clap your perty eyes on mine!
Yeah, baby.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!
Yeah, babyyyy!

Okay, so I have never seen anybody put those words on their Facebook status, but some of the songs that I've seen people use seem just as ridiculous if not more so in my ignorant, countercultural eyes. What's the point of a status like that? Is that how they're feeling? Then maybe they can just put down the essence of the song ("It's dark, you're on my mind, don't look down, look at me) and leave out all the "oh oh oh oh oh ohs" and the "yeah baby's" and not leave us with the feeling that some punk is taking over their life and giving them words that don't even sound like them! And the worst part of it is (for someone who makes an effort to actually write something clever), when somebody copies someone else's dumb words they get like twenty people commenting and saying they love their status!!! That's what weirds me out every time. (And as a disclaimer, I'm not really thinking of very many specific times this has happened, and even if it has I'm magnifying my subtle feelings so that I can express them--don't start thinking that I think you and all your friends who write things like this are dumb because I haven't been harboring any such feelings)

So, to avoid the blank feeling of trying to come up with something to say when I'm updating my Facebook status, I've started developing a habit of forming ideas throughout my day. However, I don't have a cell phone to send my updates on, so they always have to wait for whenever I get around to getting on the computer. The problem with this though is that neither do I like to seem like somebody who's a Facebook potato. It's easy to avoid this impression during the school year--I'm laptop-less at school and am usually so busy that I'm lucky if I go on once a week. However, now that the summer is here, it's easy to keep returning to this timewasters' magnet. Fortunately, I manage to keep my time short. I'll check my notifications, check my home page, make sure there aren't any pictures I feel like looking at, and leave--after I update my status perhaps. But now that I do this on a daily basis, I don't wish to update my status every time because I don't want people to get easily tired of hearing from me and think I'm on a lot even when I'm not.

What's more, I also have no idea how many people might, just MIGHT, be getting my Facebook statuses sent to their phones (Craig and Clyde are the only people I know of who do this so I shouldn't be worried, but still I feel a little weird to say something when I know they're going to be aware every time I do). I suppose I could take advantage of this. Maybe I should do five consecutive statuses that say "Kayla is" and then a sixth one that says "Kayla is wondering if Craig and Clyde are tired of hearing her Facebook status." That could be entertaining. On the other hand, I know my mom gets a number of people's Facebook statuses on her phone and there's one person (not, I think, among any of my readers) who updates their status several times a day saying things like, "I'm sipping tea in the garden and listening to the birds sing as I daydream." A fine, sedate status to be sure, but one gets tired of hearing things like that multiple times a day. I have no desire to manufacture statuses just so they can pester my brothers or my friends (though I guess it would be their own fault if they did).

So what's the grand result of all this soliloquizing? The result is that, even though I am often conjuring up Facebook statuses that range from the sublime to the ridiculous, so many of them do not reach the annals of Facebook because I'm afraid to post too often. Hence, a chapter of my life has been lost.

But blogs are a great way to redeem the lost written word.

Therefore, as this is officially The Flapping Lingua where nothing sensible needs be expected and where nobody is obliged to see my "status" unless they absolutely wish it, I think I'll list some Facebook statuses I've thought of before, whether I actually posted them or not. Who knows? Maybe I'll even keep it up and write down several in a day as a way to patchily catalogue events in my life. It's much more concise than writing a whole blog post, and I can write several at once without looking stupid like I would on Facebook. Even better, since this isn't Facebook it doesn't even have to BE clever!

If you want, you can "like" whatever statuses you'd like to in my comment box.:)

So here goes. (I've included a lot of actual updates from the past as a little history for those of you who don't keep an eye on every single one of my statuses:):

1. Kayla is munching on chicken cordon bleu. (I'm too lazy to look up the spelling of that beyond asking one person in my family, so if it's wrong it's their fault:)

2. Kayla is re-reading one of her favorite books, Jane Eyre.

2. If I could drink the breezy twilight on a summer evening, I'd imbibe an ocean full. (maybe too corny for FB, but fine right here)

3. Kayla was chased and hugged today by a two-and-a-half foot man. His name is Joseph A----. (That incident practically melted my heart when my three-year-old neighbor saw me leaving his house after I'd wished the rest of his family a good vacation and he caming running outside down the path after me to hug me and say good-bye. Wow, I thought the kid barely knew me)

4. (On a Sabbath afternoon) "Sun, sun, sun!"

5. Kayla is in a peachy state, both literally and metaphorically. (actually posted)

6. Kayla MISSES her Karen cousins.

7. "They say a race can only have one winner, and you know you've got to pull out front to win. God knows the only time I'm winnin' is when I'm chasing Him." (yeah, I know, it's a song; hence my hesitation)

Okay, the rest are actual updates. Sorry if you were expecting more original stuff. When it comes down to it, I've forgotten a lot of status "drafts" that I might have thought of before . . . but I thought it was interesting to go back over the past six months and pick out some of the things from my tiny public "diary."

8. What do you do when a cute five-year-old tries to push you off a dock?

9. Kayla scrubbed stairs with ammonia today while listening to Screwtape.

10. God doesn't give us a map. He gives us a compass. (a Perspectives class reading concept that really described how I was feeling while going through things with my dad's heart condition while at the same time wondering what the summer will hold)

11. Kayla is bound for Indy at 3 a.m. tomorrow, boy howdy! (boy howdy has become a favorite expression of mine :)

12. Kayla is basking up a storm in Gloucester. Free weekends are da bomb.

13. "Time that is enjoyed being wasted is not wasted time." Maybe, just maybe, that's true on vacation.

14. Kayla decided to join her brother in whatever movie he was watching. Who would have thunk that it would be Seven Brides for Seven Brothers?

15. God is good, in sickness and in health.

16. Kayla was so tired last night that she decided to sleep in her clothes. It made getting ready for today very easy! :) (That was when I did an entire drawing for class in one evening the night before it was due--not because I had procrastinated but because I didn't think I was allowed to draw what I wanted to until two days before and then I was too busy to do anything about it--the drawing later ended up on the cover of TOR)

17. Kayla is. What more proof does she need in order to know that God is good?

18. Kayla dreamed that she went Christmas shopping for characters from Lost last night. . . I guess someone is a little obsessed.

19. Kayla is enjoying the inexorable force of laziness. (my teacher, Dan, would have been proud of me for using the word "inexorable" :)

20. Kayla is starting to get the hang of this making dinner for thirty people thing.