Day Off

I had a day off last Wednesday. I mostly drove around by myself, snapping photos and taking names. 

Literally taking names. 

Before I left my cabin I ran into my mustached other half, Pivot. And took a picture of the note one of the cabins wrote him.

Then I spoke with Bo (my father).

Connie, the bank teller, helped me handled my monetary business.

Wesley, the friendly gas station attendant. 

Then I went to Starbucks.

Charlie made my tall, vanilla soy latte. 

You can always spot a camp person...Kavu, running shorts, t-shirt, chacos...hitting Starbucks in the off time.

Talked to Deb (my mom) as I drove from Cleveland to Gainesville.

I went to the Verizon store and talked to Wesley, who seemed to hate his life. 

I also spend nearly two hours wandering around a book store and taking pictures of books I want to read.

And marveling at how unique Nicholas Spark's books are. Not.

Went to Chick fil'a and found this, complimentary mouth wash. 

And thanks to a mix up by Imani, I ended up with someone else's meal. So I got way more food than I paid for. I offered to pay the difference, but she said don't worry about it. 

I also tried a peach milkshake for the first time, it was delicious. 

I also went to Plato's Closet and listened to Casey, Madeline and Amanda very loudly search for a dress for Casey to wear to a concert. 

There was also the cashier at Office Depot who was in training and his boss Chris, who seemed over it. 

Then I came back to camp, ate a frozen dinner, and these, and watched Arrested Development. 

Not a bad day.

Read All About It....

What to do when you don't feel well at camp:

1) Fight through it for a day or so with minimum comments and try to get to bed as early as possible.

2) Sleep didn't help? Engage in an inner battle with yourself to figure out if this is imagined due to sleep deprivation or an actual spreadable illness.

3) Go talk to the nurse. Get a plan of action together. Including your distaste of going to the doctor.

4) Keep talking it out. Not just with your hypochondriacal germa-phobe office mate, but with people with a sound mind and equal interest in camp and your personal well being, i.e. directors.

5) Decide that since you and your roommate have similar symptoms and she's been sick for longer, it's time to seek a professional.

6) Get down the hours the walk-in is open and drive to town with said roommate.

7) Discover that she changed her hours in the past week.

8) Drive back to camp.

9) Drive back to the walk-in clinic, whilst making joke, "Just watch, we'll get there and there will be a sign that says, "the doctor is sick, come back tomorrow."

10) Enter the walk in clinic to have the receptionist say, "She's been sick, can you come back later." (Not joking)

11) Make an "appointment" for later (i.e. she writes our names on a post-it note)

11) Drive back to camp.

12) Take a nap.

13) Drive back to the clinic.

14) Fill out paperwork.

15) Discover that according to her standards you are not lazy, but moderately active.

16) Wait while your roommate, who got her name on the sticky note first, sees the nurse.

17) Ask for the restroom, then decide to hold it, because after a day like this, she's probably going to ask for a pee test, five minutes after you handle your business.

18) Discover your roommate has strep.

19) Have your throat swabbed.

20) Wait five minutes then listen while the nurse talks herself into believing she sees a "faint red line" and then try to remain non-committal when she asks if you see the phantom indicator.

21) Go to ingles and fill your prescription and buy 2 pints of blueberries, a bag of dried mango, and a Tobelrone bar while you wait.

22) Drive back to camp and tell the people.

23) Spend 24 hours in quarantine with your same roommate.

24) Sleep

25) Listen to music

26) Forage for food because you missed dinner waiting at ingles

27) Finish season one of Arrested Development

28) Sleep

29) Take antibiotics

30) Sleep

31) Wake up

32) Eat oatmeal

33) Take pills

34) Finish Hercules

35) Sleep

36) Eat food

37) Sleep

38) Start season two of Arrested Development

39) Listen to music

40) Sleep

41) Watch an old Steve Martin movie

42) Lie and stare at the ceiling

43) Decide you get to return to the world at dinner

44) Pack up the room

45) Wait for the kids to clear out of free time at the lodge

46) Write this blog post

47) Watch your stir crazy roommate spring back into action

48) Prepare your "I'm not sick or contagious speech" for your hypochondriacal germa-phobe partner

49) Listen to music and finsh the blog post

50) Go about life.

Whatever's In Front of Me...

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." -2 Corinthians 4:16-18

I remember in my 3rd summer at camp, one I day I woke up and just felt dead. I was so tired, I couldn't begin to imagine how I was going to sit up, let alone wake up a cabin full of 10 year olds and be responsible for them, and teach five classes, all while maintaining the energy and joy required by camp.

I rolled over and let my arm drop to the floor and pick up the notecards next to me bed. For the hundredth time that year, I read 2 Corinthians 4.

The rest of the day, was not easy. I took one step at a time, sometimes literally. I made it to lunch in shock. By the time I was running around playing the game that night, I knew that something awesome had happened that day, because I looked back and could not find a single point where my energy was coming from me.

I looked back on the day and thought, how cool? God did that whole thing. I loved that day. I loved the part it held in my memory and building my walk with God.

This summer I look on that experience as a marathoner might look back at their middle school track team (and knowing that before I die, I'm gonna end up like those people who run across the country in three days). Even so, God is still teaching me from that passage.

The verse at the beginning of this post says a couple different things I want to point out.

"...we do not lose heart..."

This is a statement. We don't lose heart. We have opportunity to lose heart, but we won't. What comes next is why.

"...our outer self is wasting away, but our inner self is being renewed, day by day..."

Our outer self will only get more tired, more run down. But every morning, God's mercies are new. Every day God comes in and restores our soul. He reminds us in a million ways why showing up every day is "worth it".

"..this light and momentary affliction..."

It doesn't say what gauge we are deciding what light and momentary affliction is, but here at camp we have air conditioning, running water, food, sleep, beds, pretty basic first-world life style. Sure, we spend a lot of time in the sun, but we have an abundance of clean water. Sure we have very little down-time during the day, but we have at least eight (should be at least nine) hours every day with no assignments. This is hard work, emotionally and spiritually pouring into these campers, absolutely, but for the most part, I would call it "light and momentary" in comparaison to what we could be facing.

"...preparing us for an eternal weight of glory, beyond all comparison..."

This is the part that jumped out to me when reading through this past time. Mostly the word, "weight". I know that word. I don't just know what it means, I feel what it means. The "weight of glory".

We are here with purpose. I have been called. I know this. So I show up and I trust God to work, to provide. But I feel, acutely the weight of what we are doing. The weight and effect that my actions have. The weight of the forces that oppose us. The weight of the majesty of what we are doing.

"...we look not to things that are seen, but unseen..."

Every day, no matter how hard or easy. we are here for the Unseen. For God. For Christ. For sharing good news with others. And this God that we are here for, is working everything for our good and for His glory (a). A weight of glory.

"...so we do not lose heart..."

We wake up and experience just a taste of an eternal weight of glory. It's heavy, sometimes it's hard, and sometimes I want to give into the flesh side of me and cry, and be down, and succumb to discouragement. But no matter what, "...whatever's in front of me, I chose to say, Hallejuah." 

Because it's worth it.

Because God is still there. 

Because God is still worthy of trust. 

Because God is still deserving of praise.

Because God sustains me. 

Because God will not stop pursuing me.

Because, I feel the weight, and it's glorious. 

I will not lose heart.

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know thatthe testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." -James 1: 2-4

Let’s Be Terrifying

Best "battle" picture I could find, but I love this book/movie
and also Peter is my favorite.

(From the newsletter that we put out bi-weekly for the staff)

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.” 

  Every morning we open our eyes in a battle. Every night we fall asleep in the midst of war.

 “Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.”

We are against a clever and cunning foe, and yet live in the midst of situations that are trying and wear us down. They make us dull, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

Camp is such a hard battle because it can be a battle against flesh and blood (our own weakness), along with spirituality.  One of the biggest assets for the enemy is convincing us that there is no battle. Then there is no reason for us to be on our guard. So maybe he attacks you subtly, maybe you aren’t struggling with energy or patience. That is a ploy. You grow dependent on yourself. That happened so many summers for me. When I started being overwhelmed, then I sunk deeper into God. So the enemy keeps coming, and attacking in new ways.

“Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.”

We’ve all seen movies about war, heard stories. Battles are fought, and when the end comes, the victors are the ones still standing. They are not clean, or energized, they are weary, they are bloody, they are bruised. But they are standing. We don’t win battles by standing back and watching the fray, we win them by charging in. 

“Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”

This is our armor. This is how we win. If we go into battle without it, we die. Every night as you go to sleep, sleep in battle mode. With your armor on, sword at the ready. When you wake up in the morning, attack the day. Every day of your life, you fight for your soul, but when you come to camp, you take up the sword for more. You fight not just for yourself, but for the campers, the staff, and the families that are impacted by our calling, when you wake up weary, when you struggle to put a smile on, when kids are driving you crazy, when your body is weak and you begin thinking fainting would be a good thing because it means you could lie down, in those moments you are being attacked, mercilessly.

“And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.”  (-Ephesians 6: 10-18)

So look up from this paper and look at your co-counselor. Look at the kids in your cabin and don’t see their shells. Look, and ask God to let you see the soul, the life that Satan is trying to steal. Step into your boots, pull on your helmet, tighten your belt, surround yourself in the shield of faith and pick up your sword. Then run, head-on into the battle, fight till you see the demons turn-tail and run. Then fight some more. Remember that without the armor, without God, without the Spirit, no matter what intentions you may have, you are dead, and one less person fighting for your campers. So abide in Christ, live and breathe in the armor of God. Be encouraged and praise God for attacks, because it means we are in the battle, it means that we are growing into something to fear. 

Hope in Exile

This past weekend I spent about 48 hours in Cleveland GA with the directors and fellow summer staff leaders prepping for the coming months at Strong Rock Camp. 

The man himself, in parent 
approved swag.

There will be a coming post about my heart going into this summer, but since it has been a long time since I have written on this blog, I always feel I need to work back into it slowly. So instead this post features my second ever guest writer (read the first here - she was five).

This piece was not written for a blog. It was written by an awesome member of the summer staff leadership team from last summer, Taylor Wade.

What is cool about Taylor and camp is how clearly God placed him there, because Tay will tell you, he didn't really ever plan on working at Strong Rock.

 In 2011, he had applied to camp but backed out because he wasn't sure how his training schedule for the National Guard would mesh with camp. But when during staff week we had one of our male staff drop out unexpectedly we called up and he came, halfway into training. He spent the first half of the summer in the kitchen and when our numbers required the opening of another boy's cabin he spent the rest of the summer as a counselor. 

A little more realistic.

He thought that that was it for he and camp, but last year when we found ourself lacking a Boy's Head Counselor, he stepped in and filled the roll. He didn't have the most experience, but what he did have was Christ, and the person that God has made him. 

Taylor will tell you modestly how the summer went. He will give credit to other people and say that they are the reason that he found success. What he won't tell you is how blown away we all were by his ability to lead and encourage. He won't tell you how many times he kept me from going crazy. He won't tell you how he made every staffer feel wanted and loved. He won't tell you how his humor lightened the weary days, or how his enthusiasm for Christ encouraged others to pursue Him further. 

This letter is one he sent out halfway through the summer. It's fun because when he passed it out to the staff, I don't think I took much time to really read it, but since it came home from camp with me, it has popped up, every few months in random places like an old purse, or a forgotten stack on my desk, and it finds a way to encourage my socks off every time. I asked him if I could post it here, and he told me that the way he saw it, he gave it to us so we could do whatever we well pleased with it. 

I am posting it now as we go into the coming summer, because truth is timeless. I post it for my fellow staff and I post it for those who are not in camp. Because every one will at some point feel forsaken. Everyone at some point will be annoyed by someone, somewhere, and in that moment, this message becomes applicable. 

Strong Rock Staff,

After Rookie’s testimony on Sunday morning, I started thinking about one of the verses he shared. Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you future and a hope.” This verse is quoted so much so that, for me at least, it has lost it’s power and meaning. It had become one of those cliché bible verses from Awana they made you memorize. After hearing the verse again on Sunday, something about it had just struck me. I went to read the verse in context of the overall story of Israel and their captivity. After a certain point, I decided to write this and share what all the Holy Spirit was speaking to me.

Jeremiah 29:4-9 says, “Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them’ plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare. For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Do not let your prophets and your diviners who are among you deceive you, and do not listen to the dreams that they dream, for it is a lie that they are prophesying to you in my name’ I did not send them, declares the Lord.” 

This section seems unimportant and kind of odds at first. But earlier in Jeremiah, the prophet intentionally refrains from marriage and bearing children. This action portrays Israel’s potential future. Obviously, whenever a nation ceases to marry and bear children, they will become extinct. The above section tells of future captivity, but provides hope that God will not allow His people to become extinct even though this trying time (70 years, in their case). Even amidst the turmoil and anguish, there is hope. 

Jeremiah goes on to speak in verses 10-14, saying “For thus says the Lord: When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, Plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, declares the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.”  

God lets His people know that despite their time of captivity, there will be an end to it. The trials will come to pass. Even when it seems as though God has forgotten His people, He still has plans for them. And they are plans to give us all a future and a hope of what is to come. Furthermore, the God of the universe is willing to listen to His people, His creation . When we genuinely seek God - to hear what He wants tot tell us, to seek His council and comfort, and to rebuild that relationship we’ve partially destroyed through sin- our God willing listens. Finally, God says he will “bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.” This is more than a geographical relocation to a homeland. This includes a restoration of life in every possible way. 

I understand that some of these kids can grate on our nerves. I understand that some of these classes we teach aren’t our favorites. And I understand that some we won’t always have the best attitude for whatever reason. But think about how much God has blessed us just by being here. We have phenomenal leadership at every level of camp, even down to some campers. We are surrounded by some of God’s most beautiful creation on a daily basis! We are surrounded by friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, for those days that just don’t seem to go right. We aren’t in any kind of exile here. And yet God still has plans for us to restore us to a life of total and complete fulfillment. 

This verse also applies to the campers. Like I said, I understand that some campers just push out buttons on a daily basis. But we aren’t here to babysit. We have all been brought in here to accomplish a single goal. To impact kids’ lives for the kingdom of God. I guarantee you some of these campers are in their own kind of exile as you read this. And they need to know what God has promised them. Please, remember why you are here. Be encouraging. Have fun. Show these campers how good God has been to us just by allowing us to live another day. And use that day to influence theses campers.

I love all of y’all,

Taylor Wade

I am so grateful that God has seen fit to bless our camp, and my life with a fantastic person such as Taylor Andrew Wade. He is also a writer (clearly) but mostly sticks to publishing humor. Check out his newly created humor blog here! 

Sneaking In

My front porch in the evening

As I sit on the counter and look over the living room, I smile.

Outside the window, the little green shoots pushing out of the end of the branches are creating a delightful fuzzy halo on the trees outside.

There is a warm earthy scent creeping in from my Mom's open window and trailing behind everyone who comes in the door. It's permeating the air, rising up from the ground as the sun warms into soil, rousing the stiff ache of winter.

The way the sun drifts through the front windows as it lazily drops behind the mountains off the front porch, making the halo on the trees glow.

I sit and soak it in. Deep inside me something is stirring. The feeling that I am nearing the time to chuck my hectic and changing schedule out the window. A time is coming for me to dive into the most draining, sleepless, and exciting vacation I've ever loved. The only summers I really distinctly remember, because every moment is so incredibly worth it.

Summer.

I'm waiting in peace, through these last few weeks of hectic-ness. I am diving head-on into my last moments juggling three jobs and soaking in every conversation, every experience, every laugh, every story, every annoyance, every wrench in the plan. But, always in the back of my  head, I am here, sitting on this counter, in perfect contentment. 

I am sitting and waiting for the brilliant wave of long days, short nights, laughter, tears, sweltering sun and magnificent stars.

I am sitting and waiting for the earth shaking weight of God's glory, revealed in every way, from the small moments to grand landscapes.

I am sitting and waiting for the drenching downpour of love that leaves my heart so full and heavy, that I wonder how I retain the ability to move, let alone express even a fraction of it.

I am sitting and waiting on God...for His next move.

I am sitting and thankful that the next move looks like camp.

A Thousand Words

This weekend was my camp's biggest retreat group, 200+. I lost my voice.

I could write a lot about the weekend, but it seems more fitting to withhold. So instead, I am offering up a photo blog about the weekend.

Day one, setting up 28 tables in the dining hall.

Sunset after work

DQ at the end of the day. 

Owen

Then on Saturday...this girl came to help....

...And did some ninja training.

DQ, second night.

Voiceless and sent to work in the kitchen with these kids!

The faces of Ben Helton

Sunrise, Sunday morning.

End of retreat. They're perky.

Dinner post-retreat.

They were laughing at my word mix-up.

Movies, with the Brannons.

Home again. This is my front porch.

|valənˌtīn|

My first introduction to the idea of father. My first introduction to
God too, probably. My first Valentine - for sure.

No matter what you may think about Valentines day, it seems that everyone thinks something.

People who will post status every other day of the year dripping with single, self-pity, will today post pep talks about there being nothing wrong with the position of singleness.

There are plenty of reminders on my wall about God and His being the ultimate answer to our heart's need.

There are people who make no comment, because they don't care much for the idea.

In my life, Valentines day had it's most significance when I was little and my parents would usually spring for some sort of token. Candy hearts, chocolate, random stuffed animals. I have never much associated anything particularly romantic with February 14th, and have by consequence, never held any malice towards the day with the absence of such expression.

I suppose I fall into the apathetic category when it comes to this 'holiday', but God is not a God of apathy and God has been slowly over taking my everything, therefore I am not actually apathetic this year.

This is not a post about how we should perceive the day. This is not a post about my cut and dry opinion. This is not a sermon. This is simply a testimony, a story, of how I have been approaching the day this year. I've no doubt that my opinion and approach will evolve and change with the years ahead, as it has with years past. God, it seems, has been working on my heart for a few weeks leading up to this, and the coming of this day of hearts, has proven a catalyst for my trying to communicate what it is I am in the process of learning.

God has of late been re-evaluating my heart in relation to the fantastic men he has placed in my life. I have been awoken to realize that the same M.O. that worked when I was 15, doesn't work when I'm in my twenties. Everybody is in a different place in life, and if I care about the lives of these men, then I will care just as much about my actions, words and behavior towards them.

My only brother. You wouldn't believe how awesome he is.

I am not saying that I have not been intentionally uncaring, I am saying I have been thoughtless - and God has begun to draw a line for me, tell me to stop, and change.

 In my pursuit of God, above all else, some things have changed. One, is how I see the people around me, specifically for this post, the male species.

God has a thing about family. He is very serious about it. From marriage, and imagery of Christ and the Church, to parenthood and beyond. Specifically, God has associated himself closely with one role, that of the father. (John 17 - one of the many places, Jesus Himself, calls God father, more than once.) Now is not the time to get into the doctrine of the Trinity, but the basics are, God is three persons in one: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. God the Father. (Romans 8:15)

I grew up with a wonderful, blessing of a father, but we all know someone who wants nothing to do with God because their father was not great, and the idea of another "father figure" in their life sounds terrible. I have only ever connected the dots of father hood and God in my personal past tense (I was raised with a great father), or maybe even briefly in my future tense (marrying someone who would be a good father), I have not tied it into the present.

There are certain theories that hold that a someone's personality is set by the time they are five years old and it seems logical that personality affects how we approach everything. Helping to decide our challenges, what comes easily, what we have to fight. If I even halfway believe this, then the two and three year old little boys that I watch every Tuesday, are right now being shaped in a huge way. Could things that happen right now, affect their fathering far down the road?

More so, the teenagers in my church, a lot of of them I have known since they were in elementary school and younger, are before my eyes, growing up. These "little boys" are getting drivers licenses,  speaking their minds, pursuing their own interests, and becoming leaders and servants among their peers. Is it possible that the way that they are encouraged, challenged, and treated at this point will affect how they father their own children down the road?

My only brother-in-law. This guy.
Real excited he gets to be a part of our family from here on out.

Further still, my peers. Male staff at camp, friends from school, friends in the church. Many of these men are (not unlike the women in the same age range) in years of decision. Whether that decision is what degree to work towards in college, what to do after college, how to become independent of their parents, and most importantly, how they are going to pursue God when they are left alone. Do decisions that they make in these areas affect what sort of fathers they will be?

This may all seem very odd, to be thinking about the fathering potential of toddlers, but I have recently been thinking a lot about God and His nature. The God of the universe lets Himself be called, Abba, Father, Daddy. And this God also has the grace to let roughly half the human population operate under the same word, and many of those humans are doing a bang-up job.

Being able to see that men are under attack in our world does not take a biblically minded person. It does not even take a genius. The brothers in my life (familial and biblical) are under a strong attack, I believe because they have such strong potential to live such a vivid expression of God's Glory. They have the opportunity to personify an aspect of God's character. Fatherhood.

Sidebar: before anyone gets offended. I am not whatever the female version of chauvenist is. I do not think that men are better than women. I do not think them more important. I do think that the mistakes in the past that led to such opinion are being far too radically overthrown in the present, and we have begun not to just promote women's rights, but degrade those of men. I am specifically not addressing the role of women because this is a blog post, not a 900 page thesis. 

How do these revelations affect my mindset towards "the other half" right now?

First reaction - I am floored by God's grace in allowing a part of His nature to be continually associated with humans who are so quick to fail, and in conjuncture with this, fearful on behalf of these men in my life I have had the opportunity to know and be blessed by. I believe that Satan is alive and active in the world around us, and he can not want these boys to succeed.

Second reaction - Prayer. These men will struggle and fail on some level. They are human, but if they have the strength to fight, to submit to the Holy Spirit and let God overwhelm their weakness, then His Glory is achieved, and shown to the world.

Third reaction - To double check my movements. How I talk to, act around, and express love towards "my boys" matters. From the one-year-old learning how to walk on his feet, to the 20-something learning how to walk as an adult, and man of God. I'm not sure what that looks like exactly and I'm pretty sure it is at least slightly different in each situation, but I know that whatever it looks like, it is permeated with prayer. Prayer and action.

My brother is now four months into the journey of fatherhood.
You can bet this has had a huge affect on this thought process.

Prayer because it is the strongest weapon I have, and action, because I cannot pray for the protection of institution of "fatherhood" with my heart, but fight against it in my action. The respect, grace, and words that I offer, even in passing to my fellow man, has the potential for good or harm. I need to be aware.

(Now, let me quickly tie this into Valentines Day, for the sake of relevance.)

As God has been teaching my heart, He has transformed it.

 I went to a small group last night and the idea of "single-ness" was briefly brought up. The girl shared how easy the trap was to just say, "I'm single because God is preparing just the right guy for me." and then in your heart be like, "Okay, God - I'm waiting, any time now." I think the idea of being content with where you are is great, but I think the idea that it is because God is preparing the perfect guy for you is terrible! It puts a ridiculous expectation on men. We are human. We fail. We all fail. God is not keeping you and that mystery person in the slow cooker until  you are both, "perfect". I'm not sure what God has for your life, but I know it is not a simple formula, and the only way to know is to seek Him with abandon, not under the agenda of figuring out secrets like who the "mystery person" is.

I can not say for sure if I ever particularly operated under this theory, because I never particularly put much thought into it. But what God has done is make me think, and make me seek Him. This has put my heart into a whole new level of God control. My heart is so free, to look at the all the fantastic failures of men around me and just be exceedingly thankful for their presence in my life in whatever capacity, to just feel overwhelming love and hope for what God will do, and, new to the stage of my heart, a burden to pray for them and silently fight to protect them from the attacks that will plague them their whole lives.

So I have spent, and will continue to spend my Valentines Day in prayer for my hundreds of Valentines. The children, teenagers, and men of God that He has given me to know and learn from. I have never before felt such a sincere, pure and weighty love for you all. I am sincerely sorry for any past thoughtless word or action that communicated differently, and for all the times I will fail you in the future. I am hopefully in nothing more than God's ability to work in my weakness. I am so very proud of each of you gentlemen and the way you live, fight and pursue God.

And to Bo, Andrew and Glenn, my father and actual brothers, You guys are such a ridiculous blessing. I have, and continue to learn so much from you three. I can't even tell you.


Happy Valentines Day.

US Highway 129

I turn right out of the Ingles and accelerate down the two lane road.

Many a writer and "scholar" has compared life to a journey, a road. I'm not sure about that, but there are certain roads that I love. Roads that tell a story about me. Roads that bring back stories that I have experienced. Roads that change with each pass. Roads like US Highway 129.

I accelerate up to somewhere between 55 and 60 mph, and hope I don't get stuck behind a large, "grandpa" motorcycle, driven by some bearded sexagenarian fulfilling his life long dream at 40 mph. Been there.

On my right, the sign that says, "You just passed Babyland" and laugh, imagining the one person who will see that sign and suddenly shout, "Oh SHOOT NO!" and pull a U-turn, bound for the birthplace of cabbage patch dolls.

I pass Yonah Bowl and Skate and a flood of memories emerge. Random dancing and picture taking with Dani, Owen and Thomas, watching Dustin, Bryant, Bekah, Lyd and Taylor race through crowds on the skating side, while I slowly and steadily find my feet underneath me and try to avoid the awkwardly grouped adolescents, one of whom has already tried and not-so-smooth pick up line.

I pass Linda's, and think of that tiny room with four washers and four dryers that half the staff counts on for clean clothes during the summer.

I pass the strange little store, specializing in Rebel paraphernalia, and remember a story I was told about the hijinks of the somewhat, and by that I mean completely, questionable woman who runs it.

Then I blow a kiss to my right as I coast past the lovely stone gates of Strong Rock Camp. I can not count the ways in which that place holds my heart.

Babyland General - it's a classy establishment

At this point in the road, my cell service all but disappears and I start to feel that strange feeling that I am leaving something behind. It feels like there are strings attached to my heart and as I drive further, they pull my heart, trying to get it through my shoulder blades and back to the people and places that hold their other ends. As I keep driving they stretch and twist and snap, begging me to stop and go the other way. I accelerate up the hills and curves, maybe a little too fast and Phala comes and whispers at me to slow down.

I pass Turners Corner and offer a silent wave to Dahlonega.

I head up the side of Blood Mountain, enjoying, maybe a little too much, the roller coaster turns. Phala shakes her head at me from the passenger seat, silently scolding me with her eyes. She knows better.

I start the more definite ascent and soon pass two crosses on the side of a curve. The larger one has been there, attached to the tree, for who knows how long. The name on each arm of the white-washed wood read, Phala Harper. I salute her every time I pass.

The name and my frequent passing of it, often on my own, have led to a characterization of sorts. In my head, Phala was a happily single 30-something, with chesnut red hair, that was maybe just a little too dry, and a made up face, that was maybe just a little too cakey. She worked the minor league tennis circuit and was on her way up. She liked to wear her white socks and mid calf, with white tennis shoes, and a matching visor. Every time I approach the mountain, my memory of her comes into the car with me, and reminds me to be careful, to be aware, to not let my guard down, to not go outside my comfort zone for the thrill. We ride the ascent together and she gets off when I reach the store at the top, biding me farewell till next time.

This may sound odd, and I think it probably is. I don't think she is actually there, and I don't really know anything about her, but her name was so striking that my imagination apparently couldn't just leave it on that plain white cross, it wanted to give Phala Harper purpose, and now she has it.

As I begin to coast down the opposite side of Blood Mountain, I pass the imaginary line that lies between, "call Daniel if I have trouble" and "call the Kough's if I have trouble". That's the thing about this road that makes me okay to drive it even at night. There's hardly a stretch of road anywhere else in the world that I am more covered by love and care.

I pass the runaway truck ramp, and think about my plan if I ever get stuck in front of one.

I pass the stretch of road that I sat on the shoulder with four boys after the old green Chevy overheated. We sat and talked and waited for it cool off before giving the one last pull over the mountain and back down into camp.

I wave to Vogel State park and think of all the day trips my family enjoyed there and resolve again to camp there sometime like the Brannon's do.

US Highway 129 over Blood Mountain

I come up to the Sunshine store and smile, because I am approaching the turn off to Richard Russell. In my mind I turn right, then another right and a left, down a long, uneven driveway. I blow a kiss to my dear friends, the Koughs, and let that expression of love float down the road, back to Toccoa, and across the ocean to Denmark and wherever else they may be scattered, and wish for the time when we can all just hang out and drink coffee and watch fun movies together.

I pass my favorite farm house with the odd, terraced, grass lawn.

I flip my headlights from bright to dim as a car with just running lights on one side approaches, throwing my perception with the offsides.

I come into the square of Blairsville and turn toward the hospital, careful to follow the stop sign that I ran on accident more than once, because the fact that it is an intersection is far from obvious.

I pass the hospital and turn at the lake, leaving the "call the Kough's" cloud and entering into the "call Chad and Erin" cloud.

I drive past the gas station at the Gum Log interestion and think fondly on the day that I embarked down it on a spontaneous adventure to find my way through the backroads to Brasstown without a map, or a GPS, just a full tank of gas and three road names ( one of which would prove to be incorrect).

I drive towards the North Carolina line, and salute, from my car, the friendly, Indian, man who seems severely out of place in my predominately white county, and works in the gas station on the border between states. Then, I honk twice as the pavement changes, just for fun.

I pull through the flea market and smile at the King Kong Zoo my little sister has been obsessed with, but to my knowledge, never attended.

I turn onto the four-lane and switch to low lights permanently and set the cruise. Just a few more miles before I enter into the most safe "call" cloud of all. The one where my call is to "Dad" who has a terrible habit of helping figure out all my problems and to "Mom" who has a terrible habit of letting me learn about grace, by practicing it, even when I mess up.

Almost Home

I pass through Murphy and smile at the black outline of my mountains, somehow even darker than the inky sky, uninterrupted by light in this stretch between towns.

I turn off the highway and drive past the river that holds one of my biggest fears. Drowning. Running off the road in the dark and into that water, while it just closes over the top of me. But fear has no power over me that I do not give it, so I face it, and stare it down.

I drive down a hill and remember the 'possum I accidentally ran over a few weeks ago, my first 'road-kill'. That's right, you can now call me 001.

I let the cornfields on my right, embrace me as I pass, welcoming me with their familiar stretch shapes, surrounding our small airport.

I turn left and up, and up. I turn left one more time. I am home. The strings that pull my heart are balanced by the pull of this house and the people in it, the people I will see tomorrow.

Thank you Lord, for the roads that you take me on and the stories you tell in my life.