Worship Around the Campfire

We sat out by the fire literally in the middle of the woods.  No buildings, no platform tents within sight.  The trees opened to the stars illuminating the autumn sky.  The babbling brook down the hill accompanied our singing.  We did a mix of acoustic and a capella worship songs to our God, the Creator of this beautiful moment.

Listening to Mindy's rockstar voice, I'll admit, I got a bit jealous.  I enjoy singing; I do a decent job.  I don't sound like Mindy.  At all.

I watched an eight year old pick and play in the fire.  I'm not sure if it's my history of burns or my natural inclination towards safety but I've never been a fire picker.  I'm barely brave enough to roast a marshmallow.

I watched Kurt rhythmically strum his guitar.  Despite the smoke in his face, his fingers found the frets.  Allyson's slowly teaching me guitar.  But I only know four chords.

A high schooler cuddled with the camp dog.  I've always been more of a cat person, an idea reinforced when I was attacked by dogs a few weeks ago.

A chaperone faithfully kept the fire burning.  Not so big that we all had to scoot back.  Not so small that we needed additional blankets for heat.  Just perfect.

God, I said in my head, You've given Mindy the gift of singing.  She sounds wonderful.  You've given Kurt the gift to play guitar.  It's peaceful.  You've given these other folks bravery and fire-building abilities.  It's so great that we can all be here together amidst Your beautiful creation to enjoy this moment.

Katie, God responded, not in an audible voice, You're jealous that you can't sing like Mindy, play guitar like Kurt, find a cuddle-buddy in a limping, four-legged friend, and build a fire like the one we've got here.  But you know what you can do?  Make twenty s'mores in less than five minutes.  Ready, set, go.

"I'm ready for some chocolate and graham crackers..."
"Me, too."

Chaos.  And I only broke one half of a cracker.

<>< Katie

"Now if the foot should say, 'Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,' it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, 'Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,' it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I don’t need you!' And the head cannot say to the feet, 'I don’t need you!' On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it." 1 Corinthians 12:15-27

Chopper One Sighting

One evening after dinner there was a knock on the door.  Most people just walk into our apartment, but if someone knocks those who don't live here often answer the door.  This time Nikki got it and standing outside was a middle-aged man.

Before I tell you about him, let me tell you about my apartment.  We're a brand new building that is still considered to be on campus, but we're out in the boonies.  A large parking lot separates us from the nearest building.  My front window view is a cliff with a road at the bottom of it and woods across the street.  More woods on our left, and behind us is a huge red field that will someday house more buildings but for now will be the home of our own Mud Fest.

The middle-aged men that darken our doorstep are our fathers and the maintenance men.  This particular man was neither.

"I'm the father of a girl in the apartment across the hall.  Do you have internet?  She doesn't either.  I just want to take a quick peak in the closet at your wireless hook-up."

Across the room and out of eye sight, I shot a "What the heck does he think he's doing?" look at Adam.

"We were told the internet can't be hooked up until the building is complete.  Even though we're living in it the building can't be officially declared complete until the cable company comes back," Nikki explained.

"You see, that's not true," he said.  "You guys can't live without internet."

If there was sarcasm in his voice, I did not hear it.  He also never gave his name, but Adam said he had a school employee ID.

If I was suspicious before, I was upset now.  My desire for internet was overpowered by my desire for that father to let his daughter go unplugged.  It was one night for goodness sake!  The rest of us had been internet-less for literally a week, and we were still alive.  Gasp! 

I'm glad I didn't answer the door.  I might have said something like this: Sir, if you work here, check it out in the morning.  Don't go around the building at night and explore the internet hook-up.  Don't teach your daughter that you can fix everything instantly.  She's 18 not 8!  (OK, I would not have really said that, but I thought it).

Honestly, my heart broke for her.  You see, I know what it's like to go to school where your parents work.  For nine years I shared a building with two student-sisters, a teacher-mother, and an administrator father.  It was not unusual for someone to see all five of us in one day.  Even now, I go back and nobody asks me what I'm doing.  They already know; Mom told them.

To the girl who I've not even met yet, I am sorry you chose a school where your parent(s) work.  I've been there.  I'm sorry you have a hovering Helicopter Parent.  I have two.  Come on over.  We'll swap stories.

Dear Mr. Creepy Man/Helicopter Father, thank you for trying to fix our internet.  We really do appreciate your (failed) effort.  Now, it's 9pm and your daughter's first night away at school.  Let her make some friends and enjoy herself without you here.  It's actually better if her computer doesn't work, so she's not in front of the screen all night long.  Oh, and, yes, we can live without internet.

Thank you for letting me rant.  As always, thoughts welcome.

<>< Katie

"Look what I found!"

Tomorrow is Brianne's birthday. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Instead, I'll update today. :-)

Ok, so what story to share about Brianne? There are so many! The tears, the laughter, the just plain stupid... They day I drove home at like 10pm to be the only one home except for the car waiting outside my driveway who blinded me with their headlights... The time she "cleaned my room" (and by "cleaned" we mean took everything out of the drawers then said she had to go home)... Then there are so many camp stories like the time we got peanut buttered... the endless conversations at 3 am (accompanied by phone calls from her roommate...)... The late-night on the moon bounce at my graduation party...

How do you sum up five years of memories in one blog? How do you pick your favorite? You rely on text messages from the source! I got a text message from her this weekend and it reminded me of a funny story I'm just going to have to share.

Brianne loves camp fires. Like REALLY loves camp fires. After sophomore year we were set to have one as a big group of people and Brianne came over early to help gather some wood from the woods behind my house. We'd collected several armloads of wood and had enough to keep the fire going for much longer than we would need. I'd left the woods and was working on something else in the backyard but made the mistake of allowing Brianne to gather on her own... She was behind the trees to where I couldn't see her, yet we were still talking.

"Perfect!" I heard her exclaim. A few minutes later she came out of the woods dragging a tree. Not just a lot of fire wood. Not just a really big branch. The whole stinkin' tree! There were still leaves on the top of it and everything! I asked her if she took and ax back there and chopped it down and she said no. I broke off a branch and sure enough, it wasn't green (I was glad otherwise I was going to make her...er... go put it back??). This tree took up half the back yard! We already had a plethora of sticks to burn and now we had a whole tree, too! I figured we'd chop the branches off said tree and burn the actual trunk later otherwise we'd be there all night. Brianne wasn't so keen on my idea but she enjoyed the idea of being there all night. She put the top of the tree in the fire pit and the other half stretched halfway to the swing set! (You think I'm kidding!) We lit the fire, made s'mores, and were enjoying good company. (I won't tell you that was the same bonfire we burned out chemistry notes, too...). Every now and again Brianne would stand up, grab the tree by the trunk and push it further and further into the pit. I was scared the tree was going to catch fire and her tree was going to burn all of our nice grass (Yes, I am a pyropohe). Brianne, on the other hand, had a blast! To this day, whenever she comes over for a bonfire I am forced to remind her what kind of sticks we like for fires and what kind of trees should be left alone... and she laughs remembering our first bonfire.

Love ya, girl! Happy Birthday!

<>< Katie

"David danced before the Lord with all his might." - 2 Samuel 6:14a