They're Back

Preseason soccer started today... I'll reserve my judgments until a few practices in. Girls showed up, soccer was played, so the day was successful.

The best part - I saw some of my students again today. I forgot how much I love them. It was so good to hear about their summers, joke around, get/give hugs, etc. The kids are the best thing about my job, definitely.

I heartily disagree

This guy is wrong and should be swiftly removed from the educational community.

Everybody's talking about "community"

Since my last post I have had 5 lengthy conversations about growing community in Boston, and there are more in the works. Some I have started, and others were total surprises. When my friends Brock and Christina brought up the subject tonight at dinner, I almost laughed, and commented on how "community" seems to be the theme of my life these days.

What makes a community strong? What is a strong community?

The basic answer that I can come up with right now: A group of people that are helping me to be more like Christ and that I can help become more like Christ. It's so simple, but I really think that's what we long for - acceptance and love from people that goes deeper than surface friendship and that helps us to become the people we truly want to be.

Although I understand that community outside of college will be very different than my college community, I refuse to accept people's hints that I should give up my desire for that strength of relationship after college. I think it can happen.

Making it Happen

Yesterday I ended up spending most of the day on the north shore with my sister and her roommate. I left in the early evening to make it to a leaving-Boston-surprise-bowling-party for a friend. The drive should have taken about an hour, but two and a half hours later I finally arrived at the bowling alley.

I almost decided not to go. The past few days I've felt particularly isolated, something I struggled with this summer as well. I don't quite feel at home with my Boston friends (they're great and fun, but feeling at home takes time) and I feel increasingly more disconnected from my Taylor and Grace friends. Last night, going 5mph down the highway, I wanted to just go home and feel sorry for myself.

Instead, mostly because the bowling alley is 5 minutes from my apartment, I went. Even though I was a full hour late, they had just started, so I jumped right in. It was what I needed - a reality check. My community here in Boston will be as strong as I make it to be. It is through my intentional engagement with others, my effort to deepen friendships, that my community will grow. Even though I wish that others would pursue relationship with me, I cannot fault them for not investing more than I have taken the initiative to invest with them.

This whole being an adult thing isn't all fun and games.

A little small town conversation

Today I headed to the north shore (northeast of Boston). My productivity in Dorchester was decreasing exponentially and I needed some outdoors/fresh air time. For a few hours (until the clouds rolled in) I sat at a beach in Beverly, reading a book for professional development and soaking up the sunshine in the mid-70s weather.

I was immersed in my reading and listening to my "chill out" playlist on my ipod when I felt the sensation that someone was right behind me. Turning slowly I saw that it was not just someone, but something - a Beverly Police car with a grinning, middle aged policeman was no more than 2 feet behind my chair. After getting over my initial startle and reassuring myself I wasn't doing anything wrong (police in Boston don't really come by to chat), I began what turned out to be an enlightening little conversation.

"Hello." I said, timidly. "Gorgeous day, isn't it?"

"For now," he replied, brusquely, looking off as in to non-existent clouds. "It's raining in Worcester" (Worcester is a good hour and a half from Beverly, but apparently very important to my new police friend).

"Well, I drove up from Dorchester, and it isn't this nice there" (this was my attempt to help him regain the proper perspective and appreciate the weather he had).

"Why were you in Dorchester?" He bluntly asked, almost as if I should feel guilty for having been there.

However, beginning to recognize his short answers and abrupt questions as his way of pleasantry, I replied, "Oh, I live there," in my most pleasant tone.

"Why? It's dangerous."

"Well, parts of it can be but I teach in the city, so I like living there."

My confident and carefree tone was apparently not reassuring to him as he felt the need to clarify. "It's okay teaching there?"

"Oh, yeah. I love teaching there." At this point I inserted my most confident smile, though his concerned facial expressions made me wonder if it was really ok.

"Uh-huh..." His voice dripped with doubt. He then mentioned some crime they'd had at a local alternative school - implying the inherent danger of teenagers, especially ones who aren't like everyone else - wished me a good afternoon, and drove about 20 yards down the beach, where he parked and sat facing away from the water.

Half an hour later he returned, asking if I had seen which direction the lady with the teacup poodle had headed. Apparently, dogs are prohibited on this beach, and belligerent dog owners intentionally ignore his strict enforcement of the rules, earning him a bad reputation with the force.

As we conversed, I searched his uniform for his name, but couldn't find it. Sadly, I will be forced to remember him as my friend, the Beverly cop, even though a name would make this story so much better.

I'm not sure what about this officer stood out to me the most, but I think one of the biggest things was that he seemed so jaded. The weather was gorgeous but wouldn't be for long, the city is dangerous - especially teenagers in the city, the patrons of the beach are out to get him fired, etc.

What would the world be like if we all loved what we did? Were energized by our work? Lovingly engaged our culture, our society, our neighbors?

Can you do (and love) both?

Or, is it a one or the other kind of thing?

At the end of the school year, I was so positive about teaching. I really loved my first year, I loved my school, my co-workers, and most of all my students. I could see myself there as long as I continued to be challenged and to be used in such a fulfilling way.

Then, I went to camp and I was reminded of how much I love that, too. I love working with high schoolers outside the realm of their comfort zones, I love facilitating development through challenges and experiences, I love working closely with a camp staff, and I really love the times that good conversation is sparked just from hanging out with campers. I would love to be given the opportunity to truly pour myself into a camp program in a full-time capacity.

Theoretically, you can do both. So many people have said something along the lines of, "the great thing about teaching is that you have the summers off to do camp." Yet, I'm not convinced that I'm supposed to do both. This spring, I couldn't spend any time getting ready for camp because I was spending all my time trying to finish the school year well. This summer, I spent no time improving my lesson plans, reading for professional development, looking for new teaching ideas, etc., because instead I was fully involved in camp.

Talking with my uncle about this a few weeks ago, he seemed to think this wasn't a problem. Maybe I'll teach for 3 or more years, then work at a camp for a time, then move on to something else. Maybe....

For now, I'll involve myself fully in whatever it is that I am doing and trust that God has worked out the rest in his infinite wisdom.

Harry Potter

As mentioned a few months ago, my goal for the summer was to read all of the Harry Potter books. I don't know why I didn't read them in the first place, but as time went on it became increasingly apparent that I had to read them now. I'm so glad I did. They were so good!

Next: Watch the movies.

It's funny how, even as an English teacher, I can forget the power of story. As humans we are fascinated by human behavior, especially when characters behave valiantly or sacrificially - selflessly. It's as if we are most enthralled by what we least understand. I went to see The Dark Knight last week and left feeling similarly. Yet, I'm not sure the Dark Knight told the story in as compelling of a way as Batman Begins. I think I need to see it again to really get a good understanding of it, but part of the story just didn't work for me.

Interesting, then, that so many people flat-out reject Christ's story. Is it because there have been too many selfish people telling that story of ultimate selflessness? Recently in my thoughts I've been exploring the link between selflessness and love. I'm not sure if they can be synonyms or if they are just very closely linked. Thoughts?

Something New

I couldn't really tell you why I chose to head to a "new" camp this summer instead of going back to Grace. In trying to persuade me to head back to Michigan, my friend Cathey said something about needing something comfortable and safe to come home to after a year of brand new. I'm not going to lie, that would've been nice, but I think one thing I learned this summer is that comfortable and safe aren't synonymous with good - instead, God provides in the new and unfamiliar as well.

Not only was it a good challenge for me to incorporate what I've learned from past leadership training into a brand new setting, to have the chance to restructure, to pick and choose, to start from scratch and see what happened, it was also a good challenge for me to be at a camp in which I had no preexisting relationships. I knew no-one and therefore I could build relationships off of the here and now, who I was and what I was contributing to the community. I was able to take the confidence that I gained from being so deeply loved and fed at Grace, and apply it to a totally new situation.

I got to work with four other incredible people.





And in my need, whether struggling with exhaustion and frustration from the job, or whether grieving the death of my Grandpa and just needing someone to hug, I learned to trust people in my most vulnerable times and realize that they love me because they are a part of Christ's body.

I found out on a Sunday afternoon that my grandpa's organs were shutting down and that they were going to take him off the ventilator and let him pass away. My co-counselor, Paul (in the black spandex above) had the day off and so it was the kids and me for the day. It was overwhelming how supportive and loving they were. Later that night, just after dinner when my mom called to say that grandpa had died, I walked out and sat on the dock and just cried. A few minutes later I heard footsteps behind me. Dustin and Johnny, two of my campers, came out and asked if it would be okay if they just sat with me. I felt so loved.

Daunting, to say the least

The longer my life continues and I don't blog, the more I avoid it, thinking that there's just too much to say. I'm sure many parallels and comparisons can be drawn from that feeling, but I'm not going to. Instead, I'm going to try to begin to blog about my summer.

First, remember that people who live by the school calendar consider summer to be the time between when school gets out in May or June and school begins in August or September. Camp people consider summer to be the time between when camp starts in May or June and when camp ends in July or August. Therefore, camp people come to the end of their summers before school people do, and school people end their summers before the calendar does. When I refer to summer, I'm probably referring to the time that has passed between the first week of June (when school got out) and now (because I can't very well blog about the rest of it, now can I?).

Secondly, my summer progressed along three distinct yet intertwining lines: my first summer in the wilderness of Maine, my first summer away from Michigan and Grace, and the summer that my beloved Grandpa Raws passed away. You'll see that I reflect from these three places throughout my posts.

Thirdly, I'm not going to try to recap the summer here (be thankful for that). However, as I think of things to share, I'll post them. Pictures from the entire time can be found at my Flickr page - http://flickr.com/photos/amy_richardson.

Now... where to begin... perhaps a bit of first impressions.

Jackman, Maine is the place to be.






To get to Moose River Outpost, you drive 4 hours north in Maine, 2 hours off the highway, and perhaps more significantly - 2 hours past the nearest Wal-Mart. The scenery is beautiful, and there are moose.




This summer I was continually reminded of God's power and sovereignty as I experienced only part of the vast spectrum of his creation - from the ocean to the mountains. While personally I struggled through some things (to be described later), it was assuring to know that the God who made Maine was also in control of my seemingly small existence.