Mark 8:34: "...If any man will follow me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me."
Matthew 11:30: "My yolk is easy and my burden light."
Mother Teresa: "I know God wouldn't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he wouldn't trust me so much."
If I can get my knees under a patrol box, I can lift it--anyway, lift my half of it if my mind is in the game, too--and carry it to the truck, but usually I'm not strong enough to hoist it up to the bed. Usually someone will come by and give me a hand; if not, I just leave it by the truck and go back for the next one.
Some guys can lift a whole patrol box by themselves and toss it in the bed of the truck. Most partner up, though, and have this crazy upper-body strength that allows them to slide it into the bed.
I wish I were as strong as they are, but the fact is, I'm not. If I tried to lift the patrol box into the truck, I would back up the entire crew, hurt myself badly, and not be able to help with anything else, even mattresses and cots.
If I pretend I am stronger than I am and don't ask for help when I need it, I hurt myself and the group. Every time I help move a patrol box, though, I get stronger, even if I didn't lift it into the truck. (Those things are heavy!)
The same is true for non-physical strength. If someone's walking all over you, chewing you out for things that aren't your fault, harrassing you, taking advantage of you, don't pretend you're stronger than you are.
If you choose to let someone be rude to you, then be meek and humble and let them. It will toughen you up and strengthen you for the next challenge.
But if you let them be rude to you because you are afraid to speak up, or if they've gotten control of your emotions, you are not strong enough to handle this. And if you aren't strong enough, have someone help you. Talk to someone, hug someone, get the problem solved. If you pretend you're stronger than you are and don't ask for help when you need it, you'll hurt yourself and the group.
Friday, July 31, 2009
homemade meals for cheap college students: goulash
Katie and I made goulash when she taught me how to camp-cook, so I tried it again when I was making dinner for myself. We decided the rather unappetizing name came from the sound it makes when you stir it all together.
1 16-oz box elbow macaroni - $1
1 green pepper - $.50
1 onion - usually get a bag of 8 for a couple bucks
2 cans diced tomatoes - $.60
16 oz ground hamburger
1. Boil enough water to cover the noodles. Remember that boiling water takes forever so start it early. When the water boils, put in the noodles. Make sure you keep stirring them or they'll get stuck to the bottom of the pan.
2. Brown the hamburger. When it's almost all the way cooked (still a little pink), throw in your vegetables. Green peppers and onions are great, but you can use whatever you have in your fridge.
3. When everything's cooked, drain the water from the noodles, drain the grease from the meat/vegetables, and throw it all together. Add the cans of diced tomatoes (juice and all) then mix it up with the lovely goulash sound.
4. This makes a lot of food so I hope you have friends or a really large refrigerator.
1 16-oz box elbow macaroni - $1
1 green pepper - $.50
1 onion - usually get a bag of 8 for a couple bucks
2 cans diced tomatoes - $.60
16 oz ground hamburger
1. Boil enough water to cover the noodles. Remember that boiling water takes forever so start it early. When the water boils, put in the noodles. Make sure you keep stirring them or they'll get stuck to the bottom of the pan.
2. Brown the hamburger. When it's almost all the way cooked (still a little pink), throw in your vegetables. Green peppers and onions are great, but you can use whatever you have in your fridge.
3. When everything's cooked, drain the water from the noodles, drain the grease from the meat/vegetables, and throw it all together. Add the cans of diced tomatoes (juice and all) then mix it up with the lovely goulash sound.
4. This makes a lot of food so I hope you have friends or a really large refrigerator.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
what I didn't say when I gave you a hug
Mostly it was goodbye and thank you, but the "thank you" seems so empty. How can I say it? I've learned, grown, laughed so much.
Camp does weird things to you, socially. We're a small group (too small) working crazy hard toward a common goal with a common enemy and still finding the energy for a game of after-hours ultimate. We live together, we sleep in the same quarters, we eat every meal across the table from each other, and just when you fall into a groove and figure out how things work with this group, bam! you go home and the group dissipates. Some of them you'll probably never see again. Some of them you create weirdly close friendships with and you'll stay in contact for quite some time. But you'll never get the whole group together, living and functioning with its own dynamic.
Unless you're lazy, we're all pulling for you. We've all got your back. I can go on crazy adventures (four-mile hike in lightning for a Christmas tree? getting lost in a swamp? slinking around a mental institution at twilight? shooting off fireworks? sleeping in homemade shelters? sailing?) and the whole time I know I am completely safe. Be tough, be strong, do something stupid but I got your back. If you need a boost up a tree or a hug when you fall, if your sparkplugs go bad, if you want to learn how to cook or start a fire or change your sparkplugs or juggle, if someone's inappropriately hitting on you, we got your back. I've got a whole crew fighting for me, and I'm fighting for them, too.
I love camp because I know I am safe, and once I know I am safe, I can take risks and go on adventures. I wouldn't swamp tromp with just anyone.
From Mike: "Mary, you know I feel about my girls here. If you get in their face, you're not coming back. I'll make sure the situation gets taken care of. Now come here, give me a hug and tell me how cool you are."
I learned some cool skills, like camp cooking, knife sharpening, wood splitting, spark plugging. I grew a back bone. I learned how to goof off and why it's important. I learned how to throw my whole heart into what I do. I learned that people wildly different are crazy fun and can love deeply.
I am a different person now than I was when the summer began.
I learned how to give. When you give, you can receive. When you pour out your love, you make room in your heart to receive love. Then love pours in and you overflow and hurry to pour more out, but more comes streaming in and the mad waters splash and everyone rejoices.
Last night I had a blast (that's a pun for those of you who were with us at firebowl), but morning came and I had hugs to distribute. Mostly I didn't talk, because I knew if I did I'd be a mess, and I don't like crying in front of people. Usually I can't.
"Mary, you leaving?"
No words; just a hug. Together silence.
"Hey, look, I have to go."
"No." Arms tighter.
"No, really, I have to get the toilets cleaned and pick up my paycheck."
"No."
Eye squeezing. Tears losing. Together silence.
My list of people to say goodbye to was getting shorter. I looked across the parade field and saw another friend walking toward me.
"Did I give everything back?" I asked him. I'd probably never see him again, and I wanted to make sure I returned everything of his.
He nodded. "Yes. I hope I gave something back, too."
Gave something back? We work at Camp Tapico. That's just what we do.
Camp does weird things to you, socially. We're a small group (too small) working crazy hard toward a common goal with a common enemy and still finding the energy for a game of after-hours ultimate. We live together, we sleep in the same quarters, we eat every meal across the table from each other, and just when you fall into a groove and figure out how things work with this group, bam! you go home and the group dissipates. Some of them you'll probably never see again. Some of them you create weirdly close friendships with and you'll stay in contact for quite some time. But you'll never get the whole group together, living and functioning with its own dynamic.
Unless you're lazy, we're all pulling for you. We've all got your back. I can go on crazy adventures (four-mile hike in lightning for a Christmas tree? getting lost in a swamp? slinking around a mental institution at twilight? shooting off fireworks? sleeping in homemade shelters? sailing?) and the whole time I know I am completely safe. Be tough, be strong, do something stupid but I got your back. If you need a boost up a tree or a hug when you fall, if your sparkplugs go bad, if you want to learn how to cook or start a fire or change your sparkplugs or juggle, if someone's inappropriately hitting on you, we got your back. I've got a whole crew fighting for me, and I'm fighting for them, too.
I love camp because I know I am safe, and once I know I am safe, I can take risks and go on adventures. I wouldn't swamp tromp with just anyone.
From Mike: "Mary, you know I feel about my girls here. If you get in their face, you're not coming back. I'll make sure the situation gets taken care of. Now come here, give me a hug and tell me how cool you are."
I learned some cool skills, like camp cooking, knife sharpening, wood splitting, spark plugging. I grew a back bone. I learned how to goof off and why it's important. I learned how to throw my whole heart into what I do. I learned that people wildly different are crazy fun and can love deeply.
I am a different person now than I was when the summer began.
I learned how to give. When you give, you can receive. When you pour out your love, you make room in your heart to receive love. Then love pours in and you overflow and hurry to pour more out, but more comes streaming in and the mad waters splash and everyone rejoices.
Last night I had a blast (that's a pun for those of you who were with us at firebowl), but morning came and I had hugs to distribute. Mostly I didn't talk, because I knew if I did I'd be a mess, and I don't like crying in front of people. Usually I can't.
"Mary, you leaving?"
No words; just a hug. Together silence.
"Hey, look, I have to go."
"No." Arms tighter.
"No, really, I have to get the toilets cleaned and pick up my paycheck."
"No."
Eye squeezing. Tears losing. Together silence.
My list of people to say goodbye to was getting shorter. I looked across the parade field and saw another friend walking toward me.
"Did I give everything back?" I asked him. I'd probably never see him again, and I wanted to make sure I returned everything of his.
He nodded. "Yes. I hope I gave something back, too."
Gave something back? We work at Camp Tapico. That's just what we do.
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