bowling and bee stings.

I have cried every day for the past three. Though I am admittedly an "emotional" person (*side note: I do think that the label or diagnosis of "emotional" is somewhat of a misnomer because everyone is susceptible to riptides spurred by emotions), this daily waterworks show is irrational. I will go ahead and say NO, reader, it has nothing to do with hormones. It has everything to do with exhaustion. When I am exhausted, I usually start to simmer, work my way up to angry over the course of a day, and come to the big bang with a whopping, smoking, spewing, firey cry around the time I should be going to bed. What is that?? This is one of the things I hate most about myself because it is so totally over the top. I think that by now I should be able to handle my emotions, be they positive or negative, with collected cool. This is not the case.

Mark and I returned from Young Life camp, where we hung out with tons of high school kids for a week, on Sunday morning at 6:00 am. That means that we spent the six hours preceding 6:00 am on a bus, and the four hours before that "galaxy" bowling. This experience taught me two things: bowling is not so bad, and I am not a teenager anymore. For the past few years, in my early twenties, I could hang with high school girls and be okay. But now that the mid-twenties have officially commenced, it is as if I suddenly inherited a walker and a heart splint, and my knees just aren't what they used to be. This is quite sad. I will continue to pretend, though.

We had an incredible week. We hiked a mountain, we blobbed, we swung from the giant free-fall trapeze swing, we played rounds and rounds of frisbee golf, we went to Young Life club with four hundred kids every day, we ate tons of food, we woke up early, we went to bed late, we marched through a swarm of bees and got stung, we swam in the pool, we played in a volleyball tournament, we did the zipline, the blob, the ropes course and the Quantum Leap. (Don't ask). We had a blast hanging out with the high school friends we have made over the past few years as Young Life leaders at Forsyth Country Day School.

Most of all, though, we heard our speaker, Sid, talk about Jesus-- he told us the whole story, how "Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets; but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world." (Ref Hebrews 1:1-2). I know this already, this is the foundation of everything that we believe most closely to our hearts, that Jesus is the breath of God, but for some reason it was new this week. There were moments I felt like a camper again, hearing the gospel with unbroken ears, and it was a sweet, sweet thing. I want to hold tight to the Word, the words, and let them be reborn in me every morning. And although I cannot seem to get a lasso on these emotions that keep slinging me around in circles, the exhaustion is a small price to pay for the golden gift of watching my friends hear about the Jesus I know for the first time. That will preach.

Now, back in the day-to-day of worklaundrydinneruptoolatewakingupearlydogwalkingphonetalkingbillsetc., part of me wants to march all the way back to Jasper, Georgia and live at camp where it is not so hard to remember that the gospel is new every day, that I am loved by my Father in heaven, and that I cannot earn his favor. But we are walking back down the mountain, and that is good.

Pictures to come. Peace.