I love you, home.

I love that Sunday Drives always end up at Cracker Barrel.

I love that Grandma’s house is always an option.

I love that lightening bugs add a little sparkle to the yard on a summer night.

I love that swinging on porch swings is the norm.

I love that crickets and frogs sing me to sleep and that birds bring a morning song.

I love that on any given day, I’m bound to drive under a long canopy of trees in route to my destination.

I love that I can buy fresh peaches and fireworks at the same roadside stand.

I love that people hold doors open for you.

I love that this is where my roots are.

I love that even if I leave this place, I still get to call it home.

What a Week

What a freakin’ week.

It was Look Up week.  Always a good one.  We always grow closer to one another.  We always have fun.  We always have really great conversations.  But this year was different.  Way different.

I’ve never met so much silence between these youth in my life. Leaders ask for responses. questions. anything.  Nothing.  They would say nothing.  One comment, then long silences.  Maybe one more comment, then more silence.  Totally different from the norm. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday.  Silence.  Wednesday night was the night of the final campfire.  Tell us what you are thinking.  Tell us what you’ve learned.  Tell us about some decisions you are making.  Talk to us.  Still nothing.  A few comments, but mostly silence.

A little bit of frustration set in.  Or worry.  Maybe it was worry.  Did they even care?  Had they paid attention at all?  Did they want to even be here, or did they think they had better places to be?

At the end of campfire, Scott told them that they could leave.  They could go to bed. They could go play. They could go talk.  Whatever.  Everyone stood up and started walking away.  But instead of everyone going to play or going to bed, they paired up or got into groups of 3 or 4 and spread out across the waterfront.  And then there were hushed voices.  15 or 20 conversations happening simultaneously.  I wasn’t a part of all of them, but hearing about them, I know that they were conversations that needed to be had.  People talking out all of their questions, concerns, thoughts, emotions.

Thursday nights are “fun night” usually.  There is almost always a big event at the end of the night.  Just a time to have fun and unwind.  This year to get to the event, each group took a path that was supposed to be full of obstacles.  Our group took a course that led through the woods, over fallen trees, through brush, and completely dark.  There was one lantern at the front of the group but with 45 people lined single file, the light didn’t stretch far enough.  We finally made it to a mud hill- no. Cliff.  A mud cliff. Covered in red mud.  Covered.  Let me add that it had been raining all week.  All week. Yes.  After a minute, Jake posed a question, made an application, and we decided to turn around and take a different path (the path that was actually supposed to be taken).  Sarah Ashley then told Jake that we couldn’t turn around because they had stepped in a couple of hornet’s nests behind them.  A couple of people had been stung, and there were hornets everywhere, so we didn’t want to risk everyone getting stung.

We had to climb the hill.  No. Cliff.  Mud Cliff. 45 people. At first we all had this “seriously?!” face on.  But then, we realized there was no turning back.  There was no choice.  Screaming commenced.  Encouragement and excitement.  Adrenaline took over in most of us.