5.27

Feeling pretty accomplished today. Woke up at a decent adult time for a day off. Got the oil changed in my car. Did my laundry and was done with it by 2:00 PM. Reorganized my main email inbox (because it massively needed it). Cleaned the tub. Vacuumed. Did the dishes.

I was feeling great, you know, realizing how sick I had been when I didn't even know it, and now, six days after finishing the antibiotics, I have so much energy now.

And then the dishes slid into the sink.

"Oh I hope nothing broke," I said to no one but myself because I live alone, and started to pull the drainer off the dishes.

Only one thing was broken. Just one.

It's a plate I made was working at Wakonda. I can't replace it, you know. Not unless I find some place where I can do ceramics and even then it wouldn't be the same. (It's like when my baby brother was super little and pulled down the Christmas tree as if he were a cat and the only thing that got broken was my very first Christmas ornament, the one they got me when I was still the only child rather than the oldest child. My parents got me an ornament to replace it, but it wasn't at all the same. And all my ornaments are still in the box in the closet in my parents' apartment.) And it's okay that it's different; plates are plates, regardless of how I got them. Plates can be replaced because they're, ultimately, plates. (That's what I tell myself anyway. The only things that got busted in the car crash were two cups, and one of them was also a Wakonda-original, in fact the very first thing I made during my job at Wakonda.)

But the experience wouldn't be the same, either. I don't know if I'll ever again get to be elbow-deep in liquid clay, or pouring molds, or cleaning greenware, or glazing bisque, or standing precariously on a stepstool to reach into a kiln because my short self can't reach the bottom without help.

And so all that flashed (some of it unconsciously, I'm sure) through my mind and I burst into tears.

Tears over a broken plate.

More like, tears over the inevitability of time moving forward. I can't stop it and I can't control it but sometimes I really really wish I could.

Probably should figure out why I think that way.

2013

12-31-13

I know many people do New Year's Resolutions, and I know I have things I want to improve or maintain in my life, but that's not really what I'm thinking about. I've been thinking about where I've been on past New Year's and where I've been this year.

When I was little, we'd each get to pick out a movie to watch and cuddle in our sleeping bags on the living room floor. We'd watch in the order of youngest to adult, and I remember being excited when I finally made it to midnight without falling asleep now. (Now it's no big thing, but then it was.)

When 2006 turned into 2007, I was in India. I think it was a Thursday night. I had preached a sermon on the 2300-day prophecy earlier that evening, ate New Year's cake in the lobby of the hotel, and fell asleep listening to the very loud fireworks going off up and down the street.

When 2008 turned into 2009, I was on Ebeye. I think it was a Saturday night. I was in the principal's apartment with Ryan and Emily, playing Starcraft and then stuffing couch cushions back into their covers. The covers had just come out of our dryer.

When 2010 turned into 2011, I was at Timber Ridge Camp for staff retreat. It was a Friday night, and so we welcomed the Sabbath and the new year with a footwashing and a communion service. It was also the evening that Charlie and Trish told me about Greg wanting me to go work at Wakonda.

Tonight, I'm in my solitary apartment in Michigan. Yeah, my landlord lives downstairs, but I think he's out with his brother and sister-in-law. I had Chism family pizza and some ice cream, I watched some classic Doctor Who (I finished the 1st Doctor story, The Aztecs) and I read and I'm now writing this blog before doing more watching and reading and etc. I came back early because of the grown-up things I'm doing later this week and because of the weather, and so I'm glad I don't have to drive through the snow, but I'm also a little melancholy because I'm not with my family. If I had been, I still would have been sleeping on the floor. :)

Anyway, I do pray that I grow and change for the better in 2014. Here's to the past and here's to the future.

More on Summer Camp

7-27-12

I don't want camp to end.

Well, it's more like, I don't want to go back to my parents' house for the time between camp ending and school starting. I don't even know when I can move in down at school. (If only they'd let me live in the village for one more semester.)

But, also, I don't want camp to end. We have one more full week, but five staff members are leaving on Sunday because of various things (going to be a student missionary, other duties in other places, etc.). We've only been fully together for a month (since Kali got here from Denmark) and now we're breaking up again.

That's probably the only thing that I dislike about camp: the fact that it inevitably ends.

Summer Camp

7-5-12

Fiction-y.
_________________

"Oh, you're the [insert_his_name_here]."

Great first line. Really, now, he's joining the staff after two and a half weeks and you didn't know who he was but it turned out that you did and that's what you said? Really?

But he remembered your name. And your major. And sang songs at you and with you on the way to play practice. And stuck with going to Wal-Mart with you even if there were possibly more attractive options.

What to make of it? You don't know. Of course you don't. But stop kicking yourself over silly things like weird phrases and slightly awkward silences. Sometimes he's the one who filled them in. So maybe you're not sure and maybe it'll go nowhere. But no regrets, right?

So see where it goes. Might be something fun. Might be something worth it. God knows, so leave it up to Him. Well, that, and interact with him whenever you get a chance. After all, he's a counselor and you're general staff. So make the best of it.
_____________________________

Huh

6-2-12

My mom keeps the apartment really cold. Her theory is that one can put on more layers than take off layers. While that is technically true, one can only put on so many layers before one is immobilized. Therefore, if one is expected to actually do something other than nestle snugly in blankets and read, it should be warmer. Just a thought.

I head to camp on Tuesday. This excites me because I've been working on the mime for Friday night and my director is excited about it. I'm also looking forward to playing with clay (aka doing ceramics) all summer.

More later.

A Summer of Firsts

8-23-11

Okay, so now I finally have some time to write about my summer.

It was definitely a summer of firsts, as my title indicates. Let's see, perhaps a list would be good here:

• First time climbing straight up a mountain (as in, clambering over boulders and picking out footholds, etc.) at Devils Lake, WI. I learned a lot about my fellow staff members during that climb, which, despite being physically intense and long, was healing for me.
• First time at Camp Wakonda, in Westfield, WI. It was my sixth summer at camp, but my first at Wakonda. Suffice it to say, I love Wakonda just as much as I still love Timber Ridge (and that's saying something).
• I learned how to wear makeup. You might not see it on me a lot, but I own some and I know how to put it on now.
• I blobbed others, was blobbed, and was double-blobbed for the first time this summer.
• On my way home from camp, I recalculated my own route (I don't own a GPS) when I took an exit completely instead of taking the first part of the exit and then merging with a different road. I still made it home and I added to the map in my head. Go me.
• I wrote a skit that others performed for the crafts-and-ceramics-run Sabbath School we had at camp. People really enjoyed it, complimented me on the Sabbath School, and even one of the people who had performed in the skit asked me where I had gotten the skit. When I said, "I wrote it," he said, "Really? I didn't know that. It was cool." Talk about verbal warm fuzzies.
• I went to Wisconsin Dells for the first time ever. (It's not that far away from camp.) I went mini-golfing at Pirates Cove, rode the Hades rollercoaster at Mount Olympus, and watched a pastor get kicked out of Starbucks with a paddle being held by the manager (it was a photo scavenger hunt, and the Starbucks manager was very cooperative).
• I had my first pediicure. Boy, are my feet ticklish! 
• I worked at a camp meeting for the first time, which included time in the Youth Tent as a song leader (*GULP*), time in the camp store (*YAWN*), and time in the camp office (*YAY*). Oh, and time cleaning Fireside's restrooms and sweeping the hall.
• I went paintballing for the first time ever, and enjoyed it enough that I spent four dollars to get another 100 rounds of paint so I could keep playing. I got at least five welts.
• I was part of the mime for our Friday night program, which was a first. I was also the personification of Death (or Smoking), which was also a first. For that role, I ended up with cracked glasses, a bruise over my right eye, a jammed left thumb, and good memories. (Happily, I was able to get my glasses replaced for free. If we'd gone a day later to the eye doctor, the warranty would have run out.)
• I made a lot of new and great friends. I got more warm fuzzies this summer than I've gotten in the five previous summers put together. I love my new camp directors, and I love their little boys.
• I read The Hunger Games, which I liked enough that I bought the hardcover copies of Catching Fire and Mockingjay when I got to school and read them the day I bought them. It's the first time I've ever REALLY liked books written in present tense first person.

And I'm sure that there's a lot more that I did for the first time, but I can't think of any more at the moment. This post is long already, so I'll just say: more later.

Changes

1-27-11

I wanted to call this post "Kicked Out of the Nest," but seeing as I've jumped instead of having been kicked, it would not have been entirely accurate.

I said in an earlier post that camp staff retreat had been stretching. Well, it was. There it was, New Year's Eve, and my camp director slings an arm over my shoulders and says, "Ashlee, you're a girl with options."

First thought: What the heck does that mean?

But I sat and listened to him as he explained that I had been asked for. Basically, two of the best teen camp pastors that I've ever had the privilege of working with had been promoted to being youth directors of other conferences, and one of them wanted me to come work as administrative staff, as the ceramics director, at his camp. Charlie told me that he would be happy for me either way (whether I stayed at Timber Ridge or went to Wakonda), would respect my decision, and that I had to tell him before he went recruiting at Andrews. He, Trish, and I prayed about it and we went about the weekend.

Well, the choice before me bothered me. I mean, it bothered me in a good way. Sometimes when God wants me to do something, He doesn't allow it to settle in my mind. Instead it whistles like a tea kettle until I've decided to act one way or the other. By the end of the weekend, I had already come to the conclusion that God wanted me to go to Wakonda, but I decided to wait until I had talked to Pastor Greg and done some more praying about it. That was the decision I had come to after an brisk early morning hike around Timber Ridge's lake.

So I Skyped Pastor Greg and talked with him, and we prayed. I got ready for classes to start and went to classes and what not. A couple days later, I Skyped Greg again and said, "You've got yourself a ceramics director."

"Yeah, I need one," Pastor Greg said.

"No, what I'm saying is, you have one," I said, feeling a little dumb that I couldn't just verbalize the choice and had to speak around it.

"PRAISE THE LORD!" was Pastor Greg's response (and when he and his wife were here this week for recruiting and I interviewed with them, he kept saying, "I'm so excited you're going to come work with us." I think he said it like five to seven times in about ten minutes.)

Later that day, I Skyped Charlie and Trish and said, "When you go to Andrews, you'll be talking to your new crafts and ceramic director." Charlie's response was,"I had a feeling that was going to be it. It's a tough decision for you, isn't it?"

And yeah, it was. I love Timber Ridge Camp, and I believe that it's one of the best places in the world. It's a God-place. I get onto the grounds and my whole self relaxes there. It's been my home for fifteen months (if you take three months a summer and times it by five, the number of summers I've worked there), and that's longer than the time I spent as a student missionary. I've invested a lot of hard work into that place and the kids who go there, and the camp has invested a lot of hard work into me. I went from being the kitchen aide to the crafts and ceramics director, a position I never thought of being in, let alone surviving through. Once you're part of Timber Ridge's camp staff family, you're always a part of that family. It's like a good version of the Mafia. I have grown so much through my time there.

And now God's making me move on. He wants me to take the training I've gotten, the growth I've attained, and use it. Once again, He's pushing me outside my comfort zone, and I'm starting to be  more excited about the prospect of working at Camp Wakonda this summer. (I'm not sure how I'm getting there this summer, but that's a different topic for a different post, especially since this one's long as it is.)

Charlie and Trish were also here recruiting this week, and I got to go out Tuesday night with the rest of TRC's staff to Tony's and Rembrandt's. When they dropped me off at my apartment, Charlie said, "Ashlee, we're proud of you, and you'll do a great job this summer at Wakonda," and Trish said, "Yep, we are." (And I'm pretty sure they know how much it means to me to hear something like that. Let alone the stuff he told me when I sat down to have a chat with him. I'm so words of affirmation.)

So, if you've just skipped to the end of the post to see my summary, it's this: This coming summer will be my sixth one of working at a camp, but the first one at Camp Wakonda, a place I've never seen, but God wants me there, and so I'm going.

More later.