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This past week I went down to Kentucky and spent time working for the missions organization that I worked for last summer. They needed a couple people to run a trip for them during staff training and since I’m not available to be full time staff this summer I jumped at the chance to help them out.
My week was amazing. We worked with a college group, which is not normal for CP, but it was still fun. I met a lot of great men and women and led them in the best way that I could, considering they were all my age or a little older. We, and when I say we I really mean they, redid a lovely woman named Gwen’s roof and put up some new sheet rock in her living room. We told stories, sang songs, and loved Jesus. It was great.
When I got back from my trip I walked into our administrator Susan’s offices and saw that my boss, Andy, was in there, being his usual weird self, laying on the ground and waiting to see if the air conditioner was working. After the usual small talk and questions about our week he said, “well, I’m sure you’ve talked to Kara.” For those of you who don’t know, Kara is a good friend from school who I worked with at CP last summer and who is on staff for her second summer there. I asked him what he meant, because I had talked to her a little that week but not much since I was out and she was training. He said, “well, I have some news, but I want to tell you and Becca (my staff partner for the week) together so I don’t have to do it twice. We went and found Becca and he proceeded to tell us the story of how on the way back from their first staff camp out two of our vans got in a wreck because of someone coming over into their lane. He made sure to prefice the story with the fact that everyone is okay but that Kara messed up her hand and has to get surgery on it. My heart immediately sank. The people in those vans are my family. Kara is one of my best friends. I knew she must be in terrible emotional distress. I managed to hold back the tears.
They hadn’t told Becca and I during our trip because they knew it would stress us out and they didn’t want that. I was a little angry, but now that I think about it, I’m pretty grateful for that decision. Now I could see them, now I could comfort them, now I could tell them how happy I am that they are okay.
I went to see her. She was strong. We went to pizza and when we got back the rest of the staff were getting back from rock climbing and repelling training. I made sure to give the ones I knew huge hugs and yell at them for not telling me. I was happy.
The next day I got to hang out with great friends, bond with new staff, and eat some really yummy food. The community that I have at CP is one that I will never forget. They love me well. They support me. And, most importantly, they seek to glorify Christ. Being with them makes me feel free.
Sunday came. On Sunday mornings at CP they have church outside in a pavilion. I’ve never been to a church service quite like the ones they have a CP and, quite frankly, if every church service were like it I could really get into the whole early morning wake up thing. We started out with some worship songs, Andy got up and introduced the sermon series for the summer, “the life and ministry of Jesus”, we all threw out different stories of Jesus’s life, and then Andy introduced Brownrygg, our PR guy, to read a story he wrote. If I tried to summarize what he said I wouldn’t even begin to do it justice so let’s just say that he told the story of the car accident. Those tears that I had held back earlier didn’t stand a chance. The Lord, in His abundant grace, has given me great compassion. I wasn’t there, but my friends were. People I love. And then he began to talk about the crucifixion. Jesus said, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me”. For the rest of the service all I could do was cry. Cry because I have a God who is able to sympathize with my weaknesses. Because I have a God who went to the cross, suffered what I should have suffered, died a death that I should have died, so that I may be free. I am overwhelmed by the love of Christ. Even in our sufferings, He is there.
(via summercampconfessions)
(Source: akbrodey, via fuckyeahhiking)
(Source: wittylittlehippie, via fortheloveofcamp)
(Source: everylyric)
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
This is perhaps the funniest thing I have heard in months.
Im dead. Had to reblog this.
(Source: lskywalkers, via buttloadsofclass)
I have to write a multicultural training program for a police department for my race and gender in the criminal justice system class.
I have never, and will never, desire to work in policing.
Even when I was planning on using my degree in CJC I didn’t want to work in policing.
Now that I’ve dropped my CJC major and am taking this class only because of how close I am to having the minor I want it even less than I did before, if that’s possible.
I have no idea where to start.
I’ll stop complaining now.
