A Road Less Travelled

First, let me say that this year went much better than last year. I can think of ways last year could have gone worse, but they all involve hospital trips. This year was both a fun time and I’m thinking it could very well have been a pivotal day/night/day for me.

See, I don’t usually have fun a church functions. Which is very odd to me because at first blush they seem like the sort of thing I would thrive on, but I have come away from more than one (or two, or three) church events wishing I could have just stayed home. Justice freaks out around that many people and sticks to me like a burr while keeping up a constant stream of whining, reasonable questions and demands. I’ve tried to deal with it a couple of different ways, but it feels like I always end up on the outside of everything trying to deal with him and not really being there. It’s frustrating.

But this time was going to be different. I wasn’t sure how, but I was determined to make it different if it maimed me. Since Raquel and I were staying the night the Lansberrys took two cars one of which I drove. I got there a good hour before Seth and Crystal so I was well established in stuff and things before they showed up and then I just told Justice to go talk to his daddy about it whenever he came up to ask me something. Worked really well.

There are two favorite games at Providence Church- Ultimate Frisbee which I don’t play because I run, throw and catch like an unskilled girl and volleyball which I usually watch from the sidelines wishing I could play. This year I decided just to bully my way into a game which was not nearly as difficult as I’d thought it would be. I said, “Hey! Can I play?!” a couple of times until someone noticed and then played in just about every game that was played.

I’m not really that good at volleyball, but I really like it. There was this one summer that I spent most of my waking moments playing with a couple of friends. That was a long time ago and the last time I even touched a volleyball was last Memorial Day when I played in the very last game of the night. I touched the ball four times that game twice of those times being when I was serving. So I was super out of practice and really, really happy to be playing. I hurt both of my wrists because volleyball is not actually recommended for people with carpal tunnel, I bruised my right hand serving and I’m still a little sore from I and someone else went for the ball at the same time and I was forcefully introduced to the ground, but I’m still really jazzed about having played. I just say “Ow” a lot.

The other half of my really good times were the conversations I had with people, most of whom I don’t normally talk with. I had a wonderful conversation with a woman who’s family is visiting a family in the church. We were talking about something completely other and I mentioned that my mom had been a crisis pregnancy counselor which fit into what we were talking. She looked at me and said “Was?” and then listened while I talked for the next half hour about my mom. But other than that conversation I spent most of picnic with the, um, youth? Teenagers? Young people? You know, them people who aren’t children, aren’t grown up, but are busy moving from one to the other and being neither. Them. I don’t normally sit and talk with them because, well, honestly mostly because I’ve always felt uncomfortable around teenagers. Especially when I was one. And I’ve never gotten over it so I’ve never gone and hung out with them which would help me get over it because I haven’t gotten over it yet. See? But that’s what happened on Sunday night. I found myself sitting around a fire with a group of people I know a bit, but not very well long after it had passed too late. We were so tired that people’s filters were coming down and we were actually saying most of what we were thinking. At this point we weren’t thinking anything of great moment, but just getting to that point was huge for me. I was part of the group and doing my share of nonsensical babbling. I wasn’t on the outs looking in like I usually feel. And maybe, just maybe, that feeling will stick around and I’ll be able to talk to some of these people when we aren’t so tired we sound buzzed.

Eventually we went to bed, or sleeping bag rather, and I had another good conversation where I aired some of my insecurities with one of the girls sharing our tent. And then I feel asleep which felt really good. My body was so tired that all of the bumps and lumps of the ground felt more like ergonomic molding than, well, bumps and lumps. Sleep was gooood…..

But lasted far too short. I woke up, noticed it was morning, understood that I was still stupid tired and so sensibly fell back to sleep. But about half an hour later someone woke us up. He was concerned about something, something that was probably important. He kept going on about rain and our tent roof and something about how the rain was pooling and so the roof might collapse or something like that. I didn’t think it was that important. The ground was still comfortable and I was still so tired. But then Anna, who I have decided to hate because she wakes up after a night on the ground with her head on her shoulders and her hair not looking like it went through a weedwacker, started trying to address the whole roof-collapsing-in-on-us thing from the inside of the tent so I realized that sleep was just not going to happen anymore. I blearily got up, wrapped up my sleeping bag into something that certainly resembled a cylinder though I will grant that some of the finer points of necessary roundness were not present, and then made my way up The Hill.

Yes, I still hate The Hill. You knew I had to get to it at some point. I only had to do The Hill twice because I am intelligent and lazy. Actually, it was only necessary once, but I went down on Sunday to watch the last bit of a vicious game of Ultimate Frisbee. Going up was much better than it was last year. I wonder if an entire year of regular exercise has anything to do with that. Still, it was not fun. The first time I staggered up That Hill as I was nearing the top, which is the point you lose all will to live, a young, fit, 17-year-old guy was coming up behind. Great, I thought, I’m going to get to the top of This Hill and kiss the ground that isn’t at a 70 degree slope and it’s just going to be embarrassing because I’m sure he’s thinking this has just been a pleasant walk in the slightly inclined park. So, I get to the top and try to gasp and heave without being too obvious when I hear from behind me a slightly breathless voice say “Flat!” with all the passion of a homesick sailor sighting land. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

The second time I did The Hill wasn’t all that bad.

When I got to the house Monday morning I got changed, ate some fresh fruit that was really good and tried not to feel too bleary. I’m awake, I kept telling myself, but I eventually had to stop because I got myself laughing so hard I was having trouble breathing. So I just stood around and tried to look awake. I must have convinced myself because when a volley ball game started up at far-too-early after not-nearly-enough-sleep I was one of the first to sign up. I played worse than the night before, an impressive feat, because my reflexes were still curled up in a soft bed snoring and drooling. I managed to hurt my wrists some more and then went in to breakfast. Mmmmm, cinnamon buns.

After breakfast, during which I once again sat with these people who didn’t seem to mind that I kept opening my mouth and letting words spill out, I sat in the basement and had a couple more really good conversations about conversationalists, race relations, a broken society and body language. Anna rubbed my wrists until they felt like I might claim them as mine if they said please and then it was time to go. Raquel and I said our goodbyes, got in the car and then thought about whether or not we knew our way home. She got out out of the car and got some directions and then we were off to the rest of our busy, busy day.

Thank you yet again, Prices. This camp out was much more than simply a lot of fun for me. Thanks for doing all the work and giving us the opportunity and space to maybe become friends with people we don’t really know. And if you do decide to chop that branch down that kept screwing up the volley ball serves I’d be happy to come help. Though judging by some of the comments made I might have to get in line.