I found this here, which led me to here, and thought I'd give it a try.

I am from cigarette ashes and Pontiac cars and Dr. Pepper-- lots and lots of Dr. Pepper.

I am from apartment after apartment, white walls blurring together in a whirlwind of sensory amnesia. I am from cracked sidewalks shimmering in summer's heat, palm trees rising in stout vigilance, and chain link fences tottering weakly through rasping weeds.

I am from the cloud-sodden skies of the coastal Northwest; the rippling, life-giving fields of the Breadbasket; the majestically parched, mountainous deserts of the Southwest; the coniferous sweeps and river-carved valleys of my new home.

I am from "High-Lows" and fierce determination, from "the little wise one" and the Jones' eyes.

I am from the tumultuous solitude of a family torn apart and the gratifying agony of a family pieced back together.

From "3-foot-2, eyes of blue, prettiest girl I ever knew" and, "If you swallow a watermelon seed, your belly will swell up and you'll have a baby."

I am from 6 generations of my denomination, but without a Cross to kneel before. I am from Bible Bowls and memory verses and rainbows that prove God has heard us. I am from bedtime Bible stories and teenage confusion and "Why, God, did you let this happen to me?!"

I'm from everywhere and nowhere, unsure of my heritage, falling neatly into line as another "Heinz 57" American.

I am from lemons zested on the tree by mischievous Great Grampa (a literalist like myself), from the land of Hide and Go Seek and safe havens and "Mount Cheese and Crackers".

I am from boxes saved out of the kindness of a neighbor's heart when all else was ripped away... again. I am from dusty albums under the living room table, the repetitive snapshots of distant scenery and unfamiliar faces pushed aside in favor of a good game of Jenga. I am from stories over coffee and cigarettes, the laughter weaving around the words drowning out the rain on the porch roof. (Neither my aunt or my mother ever seem to forget a story.)

This is childhood. Maybe tomorrow I'll do a teenage version... then an adult version.
Wow. This stirred up so many memories, many of them bittersweet.
I do realize, after thinking through this prompt... as a child, my world began and ended with my mother. Mom was the end-all, be-all to my life. I'm so glad she was a good one.

God, this is so hard... because if I don't condemn myself, then someone else might, and which hurts worse- to kill yourself, or let someone else crucify you?

"I want you to experience the riches of your salvation: the Joy of being loved constantly and perfectly. You make a practice of judging yourself, based on how you look or behave or feel. If you like what you see in the mirror, you feel a bit more worthy of My Love. When things are going smoothly and your performance seems adequate, you find it easier to believe you are My beloved child. When you feel discouraged, you tend to look inward so you can correct whatever is wrong.

Instead of trying to "fix" yourself, fix your gaze on Me, the Lover of your soul. Rather than using your energy to judge yourself, redirect it to praising Me. Remember that I see you clothed in My righteousness, radiant in My perfect Love."
{Ephesians 2:7-8;  Hebrews 3:1;  Psalm 34:5}

Really, El Shaddai? How do you know me so well?!

This last week, we had an amazing camp pastor, Pastor D. She was incredible. Her messages were simple, powerful, spoken in love, and so applicable. I didn't get to hear many of them, because I was in the kitchen most of the time, but what I did hear was amazing... and exactly what I needed. It was encouragement, straight from the throne of God :)

So I wrote her a letter, thanking her for her ministry, and telling her that. She responded by finding me for a great, deep conversation on Sunday morning, which she followed up with by writing the "bullet points" of the conversation in a letter to me so I would remember. (Part of why the conversation was so powerful is that she and her daughter have been through the pain of sexual abuse as well.) Here's the letter:

"Dear C,
   I am so glad God enabled us to have such a wonderful conversation. These are the highlights of our conversation that you asked me to write in a letter:


1) God loves you exceedingly, greatly, and abundantly more than you can ever ask or imagine. He will reveal this in your life as he did in mine through your trust in Him. He showed me His love directly one evening as I watched my 10 year old daughter sleeping and thought:
"L, will you blame me for what has happened to you? I don't know if you can understand this now, but I couldn't have stopped it from happening. But I spared myself nothing from being with you and sharing your pain. I am all scarred as a result- that is how much I love you."


 I went to bed shortly afterwards, and as I placed my head on the pillow with my heart throbbing in pain, I heard God speaking to me:
"D, will you blame me for what has happened to you? I don't know if you can understand this now, but I couldn't have stopped it from happening. But I spared myself nothing from being with you and sharing your pain. I am all scarred as a result- that is how much I love you!"


I never knew how much I was loved by anyone until that moment.


2) God did not will the evil of abuse on you, but He did will for you to pass through it- in other words- to hang on your own cross next to Him as you suffered through the evil that is done in this world at the prompting of the great deceiver himself. The evil one desires to separate you from God forever and neutralize your power as a force for God's kingdom through your anger and distrust of God as a result of your abuse.


  But your faith in God even through your suffering (see Ps. 22:24-28) makes your life a powerful witness for the kingdom of God. In your brokenness the light of God's love will blaze through and people will be drawn to the light of His love shining through your life.


3) You are an amazingly beautiful woman- body, mind, and soul. Abuse is so devastating because it causes us to doubt our beauty and our worth. God will use all of your experiences (both good and bad) to mold you and shape you into the lovely, unique woman He designed you to be. You were in His thoughts before the creation of this world and He conceived your life in love and will hold you and keep you in His love-- both now and forever.


4) God has a special person prepared to share this life with you--a person who will love you and cherish you. I am praying for you and for the one God has prepared for you.


5) You have a very special purpose and ministry--especially through music. People will be drawn by the power and spirit of your voice and music--especially children. I am excited for the purpose and plans God has for you. You will not understand the full impact of your ministry in this life. Together we will understand it in eternity when God wipes all the tears from our eyes and we can see clearly and completely.


I hope that you are able to rest this next week and continue to find healing--body, mind, and soul-- in the arms of God.


Much love,
D W"

Pretty amazing, huh?

The conversation that we had, and the following letter, brought to my attention the fact that I am resistant to my own importance. Does that make sense?

It is so, so, so difficult for me to believe that God has prepared anything for me above mediocrity. Me? A warrior? You've got the wrong person. A powerful ministry? I think you are mistaken.

The conversation dusted off a wall around my heart that I had been hiding. I've felt it there before, but I think that the walls preceding it have been torn down enough to where I really feel this one now.

I know that God loves me. I know that I can trust him. But... I just don't know how I can believe that God actually enjoys me. Like His love is an obligation, he's duty bound to love me, but he doesn't really like me. And having great plans for me? Why would he do that if he doesn't even like me? No, more likely he'd put me on a back shelf somewhere, part of his collection, but not a very important part.

That's the wall. The wall that is resistant to... to what? How do I even describe this? But it holds me back. It chains me down. It's this wall that confines me within the wastelands of uncertainty and doubt of my own worth, of other's estimations of me, of my ability to participate within a relationship without driving the other person away... What do I call this thing? How do I describe it?

Yet it binds my every move, inhibiting my heart... and I do not know how to be free of it.
Indeed, I do not know if I want to be free, because even a wasteland is comforting if you've lived there long enough.

It's hard to type with your hand all wrapped up. I thought I had broken my hand, so I went to the ER to get an x-ray earlier today. Good news! It's not broken! But I do have a serious contusion that will take a week or more to heal. They're having me keep it wrapped (and elevated, although I've not been doing that) to keep the swelling down, and to aid in the healing process.

How did it happen? Eh... heh... welllllll... I was taking out the trash.

I know, I know. Lame, right?

The dumpsters at camp have these huge, heavy metal lids that we prop open with iron stakes. I propped open a dumpster, tested the stake for endurance, then heaved my trash into the open chasm, only to have the corner of the bag clip the iron stake and send the lid tumbling down upon my poor, vulnerable hand. Fortunately, I was wearing rubber gloves, so it tore the glove instead of my skin, or it would have been REALLY nasty!

After all was said and done, I realized that I could still play guitar, so I'm happy.

Not super fast, but faster than the average person.

Which is why I'm taking a sick week from summer camp, to try to "get back on track" (i.e.- not feel like I'm dying as much as I am).

This means that I have my phone and computer for a whole glorious week!

It's nice, knowing that I can post later and not try to force the words out now.

I'm going to go make popcorn for supper.

Well, actually, it's Week Three for me, because we count Staff Training Week as Week One. But it's the second week of having campers.

Both cabins of girls have requested and subsequently loved my playing guitar and singing softly to them while they fall asleep. I don't know what it is, but I guess it's soothing... so it's kind of become my summer camp tradition :)

The improv group that I'm a part of had our first performance on Monday. It was definitely improvisation, because the other activity was cancelled due to rain. We had an hour's notice to pull together some games and get to know each other as actors, since we hadn't worked together as a group before. We spent an hour each day for the next two days working on our improv skills as a group, and though our performance was good (considering the circumstances), we are a lot funnier and smoother now that we've had time to "practice". (Because really, how do you practice improv? You don't. You just prepare, I guess.)

I like my girls in the cabin, but I don't know them very well, because I'm in the kitchen all day, rather than working with the kids. I'm actually kind of liking the setup. I'm not impatient with them, because I haven't been dealing with them all day, so when the other counselors are on their last nerve, I can take over and give them a break. I'm like the on the bench replacement. I think it works okay. I don't know how my fellow counselors feel about it.

I've discovered this week that there is a rather strong undercurrent of discontent that runs through the staff ranks, from kitchen to counselor. I don't talk to the Exec staff hardly at all, but some of my fellow kitchen staff and some of my fellow counselors have opened up to me about their "disgruntlement". I don't blame them. I have some discontent of my own- there are some rather glaring discrepancies that bother me, and I do take issue with some of the ways the camp is run. But I realized this week that it's really not my place to say anything, and voicing that discontent is not going to a.) change anything or b.) make my work environment a happier place... so I keep quiet. Maybe my purpose for being here is to be a Fairy of Good Cheer or something. I mean, not that it doesn't eat at me sometimes, because it does, and I get really irritated... but I'm trying to find reasons to be thankful despite it and in the midst of it.

One thing that bugs me A LOT is the micromanaging, though. I was frosting cinnamon rolls yesterday morning, and the Boss was standing there watching me, and telling me how to do it.

*Point* "Too much frosting there."

(Silently scraping off frosting and relocating it to another cinnamon roll or two)

*Point* "Too much frosting."

(Silently scraping off frosting and redistributing it amongst five other rolls)

*Point*

"I'm working on it."

All the while I'm thinking, Really?! Are you really going to stand there and micromanage my frosting cinnamon rolls? Don't you have a camp to run??

And it's that, compounded with the "we don't want to give the campers a choice or anything fancy or anything nice, really" mindset that bugs me. Because Lord forbid that we put out two colors of juice, because then they might have a choice. Heaven help us if the salad is "too fancy" (meaning more than lettuce, a tomato wedge, and ranch... possibly some croutons or a slice or two of cucumber). And if you commit the unpardonable treason of putting out options for salad dressing, you might as well kiss your job goodbye.

I'm done ranting. But I do get frustrated with the senselessness of it sometimes. Or the obvious favoritism that is displayed at times.

But I'm not here to worry about that. It's hard enough as it is.

I had a hard week. Several nights, I had nightmares, and my emotions went spiraling downhill as a result. Those days were hard. I was glad I had an iPod. My health has been suffering, too. Every time I eat, my intestines start cramping and churning. I don't like it. And many days this week, I've had to stop what I was doing several times and sit down, because I was close to passing out and/or throwing up. The Boss broached the idea of taking a week off to rest... and I was sorely tempted to say, "Yes!" I don't want to lose the money, though, or the respect of my co-workers, and the thought that the week I take off   (or the couple of days) might be the week/days that God had brought me to camp for and I would miss it is enough to knock the idea right out of my head.

I might, though, if my health continues to go down... maybe just 2 days. I could stay at H's.

I actually wasn't sure I was going to make it to my day off. 9 days with no break is... too much. That's why God created a 6-day work week. (Here we are, an Adventist camp, and we're totally doing away with Sabbath rest. How wack is that? But I guess it's necessary for the running of the camp that we work...) But I keep reminding myself that God has me here for a reason... and that's what's kept me here. I wasn't driven to the point of desperation by homesickness, but I was just... ready to be done with this. Ready for a day off, I think.

I have to go pay bills, now, in my few remaining hours of computer possession time.

Despite it all... God is good. He's on the throne. I can make it 4.5 more weeks.