One life: farmer.

So when I go hiking, which I haven't done in forever (since camp!) but really want to soon, and I'm with people who I haven't hiked with before, I really like to ask the question, "If you could have multiple lives, what would you do?" I haven't figured out a way to phrase the question so that it's self explanatory, but what I mean by it is that your first life is the one you're living right now, and hopefully you're doing what you want to do most with this life. But if you could have another life after this one, what would you do with it? It's usually in terms of careers. For example, in this life I'm aiming at something maybe in the State Department; I like to say diplomat to keep things simple and because I'd love to live in foreign countries learning other languages and promoting American values (this is a vague term we can talk about later if you want). But my interests go beyond political science and economics, believe it or not. In my second life I'd probably be a park ranger. Or maybe a Supreme Court judge (Judge Griffith that came and spoke last Tuesday reminded me of that dream). I would love to be an astronaut or a full time editor. In any case, I like asking that question because I think it gets beyond the classic "What's your major" question and really delves into people's passions and usually results in some interesting conversations.

One life I never thought I'd want to have is farmer. My mom grew up on a farm and they didn't have much money and now when I visit my grandparents, they live in the middle of nowhere and I can't get cell service and I never had a good attitude about being there, although as I've grown older I've appreciated the solitude of it. But a few weeks ago I went down to Zac's house in Kanosh, Utah, about two hours south on I-15. He had 300 people in his whole high school I think; that was before they combined with Fillmore. Anyways, his dad's a farmer, and before Ellen and Chris and Annie got down there, we went out with his dad in this old truck and emptied the water troughs and loaded them onto a trailer and watered the orchard and fixed his dad's motorbike (oh, and his dad is mayor). I actually didn't do hardly anything except stand there with Jadyn as he held Ayva because she cried every time I held her, but I loved being out there. It was getting dark and I watched the moon rise over the mountains as I stood in among cow pies in knee high grass, bouncing Ayva to hold off the crying as long as possible; it was a big ole harvest moon that rose so fast! After a really hard first week of school, it was a lot of prayers answered to drive away from Provo and come to this place apart from time where you just work with your hands and you see the consequence of your labor in a very real way: the crops grow, the orchard blossoms, the chickens lay, the pigs eat. It just seemed so much simpler. And I'm a big fan of simple.

The rest of the weekend consisted of playing with nieces, shooting guns (I really don't like that), riding horses (I liked that a lot more than poor Ellen...), shucking corn, eating corn, hiking Angel's Landing, and seeing the St George Temple Visitors' Center. I couldn't have dreamed up a better weekend. I was with really chill people who knew me well and cared about me. And I couldn't help but wish that I could just stay on the farm and spend the rest of my life working with my hands and doing what was required by the land. I know I'm idealizing it. Being a farmer isn't how people get rich, usually, and it's certainly not easy. It's a hard life that's nearly impossible to just pass on to your kids, who may or may not want to be farmers. But there's still that appeal of a life of simplicity and solitude that I experienced for just an hour and that I've thought about since when I've been stressed about school (oh wait, that's all the time these days). I think I've decided to add farmer to my list of lives.

Me and Old Cigar (?), Zac and Bunny, Annie and Gun Smoke.

Campy Camp.

Camp means a lot of different things to different people. My only experiences with camps were EFY and Girls' Camp, so both gospel-centered and with the goal of strengthening my testimony. Obviously they were also fun, but I had never been to a camp where the sole purpose was to have fun! I'm glad I could have a real camp experience at the age of 21.

So I heard about Camp Kesem two years ago from my friend Cameron (hereafter referred to as Sulley) because he was wearing a CK shirt and I asked about it. I don't remember anything about that conversation, only that I knew it existed. Then Ellen (Glinda) had a friend from Illinois do camp, and said she had to do it, so Glinda applied in February. I was planning on the mish, so I didn't sign up. Come August, however, I found myself not on a mission, in Provo, homeless, and ready for fun/distracting things. I applied to be a counselor and found myself driving to Camp Kostopolous in Emigration Canyon by Salt Lake for a week of being a leader for 14-16 year olds. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. 

Instead of doing a play-by-play of every detail of camp, perhaps a journal entry from the night after I got back would do a better job of portraying how I felt about it. But just as an overview, Camp Kesem is a free camp for kids who have a parent with cancer. As counselors, it's our job to help them have as much fun as possible.  There are themed dress up days, rotations of awesome activities, serious times and times you laugh so hard you cry. I camped out for two nights with the teens, and frankly, it was the best week of the summer where I made some of my best friends. Feel free to donate to it here; I can think of few better uses of money.

Journal Excerpt from August 18
Whew, thinking a lot of thoughts after camp. I’m thinking what I like about all the teens, all the kids in general, the other counselors, the idea of the camp, my co-counselors, what I learned about myself and the balance I’m perpetually trying to achieve. I’m definitely still introverted. Camp exhausted me both physically and socially, holy cow. I haven’t been that loud and outgoing since I was a youth leader for girls camp all those years ago. I tried really hard. But there were also times when I didn’t try and I didn’t play the game and I just sat and watched. And I got kind of down on myself for those times because I was like come on, I gotta take full advantage of this while I’m here. But then I was also thinking, is it really necessary to be so outgoing all the time? Like why do I think in my head that I need to be like that? It’s ok to be quiet sometimes. I loved how I felt ok to be open and crazy when I wanted to, though, because usually I don’t feel comfortable being like that with people I don’t know or just met. I felt perfectly comfortable with my kids. Not to the point where I wanted to just tell them everything. I was still pretty closed in that respect, like about my thoughts. But when it came to how I felt about them, I couldn’t lavish enough compliments. I was scared driving up to Camp K and thinking I was about to be a counselor at a camp I’d never been to with other counselors I’d never met to teens I’d never seen. I could not have asked for a better group of kids. It was amazing. They all loved helping. Literally all of them. I’m still in disbelief about it. How many 14-16 year olds do you know that would volunteer to take out the trash, start the fire, set up the tents, chop the food, get you a drink? And what are the chances I would have 11 of those 14-16 year olds in my group? Yeah, there were some weird kids. Laura had aspergers and Tigerstripe was homeschooled. But everyone loved them. They were completely included. There was no unintentional segregation or exclusion. There was intentional service and inclusion. It was so heartening. And then during the empowerment ceremony when I felt just for a second what it was really like to know that one of my parents was diagnosed with a chronic, incurable illness. Or that a parent had already died of it. It was overwhelming to me that all those kids had that feeling. It made me mad they had to have that. I wanted them to have the best childhood ever and they couldn’t because their mom was relapsing or their dad died. Little Frost didn’t have a dad. Tigerstripe’s mom would die anytime and she wasn’t worried about that, but she was worried about her dad being able to connect with the kids. I hurt for them so bad. I still hurt for them. Sure, they can be regular kids and their parents have probably been diagnosed for awhile, but at the end of the day, they might not always have a parent. They always have that reality hanging over them. And from what I could see, it did not turn any of them into bitter, angry kids. Wall-E made a comment during a cabin chat about the war in Alma that softened the hearts of some and hardened the hearts of others. Having a parent with cancer softened these kids in unbelievable ways. The most impressive kid to me was Stud. He knew his worth. He knew he was a good kid who was good at sports and had a good heart. But instead of being a punk about it, he used himself completely to help others. I can’t think of anything he did to help himself. We would always fight to go last in the food line, and he always won. To distract him while we wrote his birthday card, we asked if someone could help in the kitchen, knowing that he would be the first to volunteer to help. He always asked “What can I do to help?” Always and without fail. He never complained. He never talked about himself. He never got embarrassed. He did what needed to be done perfectly because that’s what he wanted to do. If my children are anything like him, I will be the happiest mother on the planet. And he just moved and his mom just got remarried and he’s the oldest and I think his dad died of cancer, I don’t know. All I know is that he taught me so much about what service actually is. And so many of the other kids followed right in his footsteps. Still amazing to me.

Feelin' the love.

Wow. Just wow. It is amazing how much love people have the ability to show. Sometimes I wonder if the things I do for other people can really communicate how much I care for them. I can tell you right now that while I don't know how well I can communicate my love, other people are doing a phenomenal job. My love language is quality time and I don't think I've been alone for the last two weeks. So many people love me! I think I understood that in some subconscious way, but just so so many people have brought me treats or texted or called or taken me out, and I feel like I don't deserve it! Like yeah, I'm going through a hard time, but that happens to everybody! But it just feels good to have my self-esteem bolstered by a lot of people when I thought it was gone for good.

People who went the extra mile: Annie, Tyler, Marky, Daniel, and Kallie for always listening; Ellen and Caitlin for being my best friends and knowing just what to say; Zac for helping me have the best weekend, besides camp, of the whole summer; Jenica for her spiritualness; Alana, Sarah, and Ashley for being the best roommates ever and keeping the apartment clean always; Trevor for taking me out; Matt for the peanut butter M&Ms; Corinne and Mario for feeding me and meeting up with me on campus; my extended and immediate family for the calls and emails... the list goes on and on. Y'all rock. Literally.

Check out Ephesians 3:14-21 and 3 Nephi 9:13. Lots of good stuff in there. Anyways, posts to come in the near future: Camp Kesem and Kanosh. Yeeeehaw.