Tomorrow I head off to Woodland Altars, the Church of the Brethren camp for the Southern Ohio district. I'll be taking six kids from Cincy COB with me and I'll be a counselor.
This day has been a long time coming. First there was registration, then requesting supplies, counselor training, buying supplies, packing supplies, finding rides, and tomorrow finally going to camp.
Everything should be in place, I've planned lessons, games, and crafts, hoping to give the kids the best possible camp experience. This is the first time that most of these kids have gone to camp by themselves. For some of them, it will be the first time they have spent an extended period of time outside of the city, spent time with nature.
As I'm packing the last of the supplies I'm realizing that while I hope the kids enjoy what is planned, I think it will be all the unplanned things like games, songs, and campfires that will be memorable to the kids. The conversations and laughter during meals, seeing something new will be what they remember.
How often in our adult lives do we forget to enjoy the unplanned, to live in the moment? I know I often forget to enjoy those moments of spontaneity, those moments of living in the here and now, not the future. The BVS house did just that last weekend. We went to the Juneteenth festival at Mirror Lake by our house. We enjoyed food, music, and learned a little Civil War history. Not only that, we decided to make a trip to the Cincinnati Art Museum right next door and enjoyed wandering through the exhibits looking at the artistic gifts of artists spanning several centuries. Pretty much unplanned, but relaxing and fun!
So my challenge for myself and others is this - leave some space on the calendar this summer for the unplanned and see what happens, I bet it will be exciting! It's off to camp we go!!!
Anne
June 26, 2010
June 15, 2010
This is not a recording.
On Tuesday night the BVS House of Cincinnati experienced another first:
Tornado siren!
After deciding whether to grab pillows and blankets or shoes and cellphones, we tromped down the basement stairs. The confusion over how we would all fit in the old coal room was cut short as the siren shut off after only 15 minutes. We all decided we'd rather mess around on Facebook and craigslist than talk in the basement. I think it was a bonding experience.
-----
I grew up in southeast Nebraska, where tornado season starts the beginning of May and ends in late July. My parents still live in one of the most active parts of the region. A few summers ago, a tornado sat itself down on my sister and brother-in-law's house and then jumped the road to the family farm. We lost a lot of buildings and machinery, and nearly all our trees, but amazingly, no one was hurt.
The Plains are notorious for tornadoes, but if you were to sit down with the people living there, most would tell you that tornadoes aren't something they worry about. My family's experience changed that for me. I used to watch storms in the distance from our backyard as they tore through fields and small communities-- always with a feeling of immunity to the haphazard destruction I could clearly see in someone else's life. But not anymore.
-----
Sometimes we watch each other from a distance. Ominous green clouds of silence are ignored. A humid space of ignorance hangs between us. In a whirlwind of frustration and sadness, words bond together to form rage. They plow indiscriminately through families, tearing permanent gashes in people that love us-- that we love. It leaves everything and everyone touched. Some are mute from shock. Some harness the rage of the words and cannot let it go. Some have no remnant of their former self. And some carry only the depression of what is lost.
Words are always chosen over weapons when the intent is to hurt deeply. So, choose your words with compassion and try not to be afraid of honesty. Love can survive rage, but it may falter if we are false to one another.
-Laura
Tornado siren!
After deciding whether to grab pillows and blankets or shoes and cellphones, we tromped down the basement stairs. The confusion over how we would all fit in the old coal room was cut short as the siren shut off after only 15 minutes. We all decided we'd rather mess around on Facebook and craigslist than talk in the basement. I think it was a bonding experience.
-----
I grew up in southeast Nebraska, where tornado season starts the beginning of May and ends in late July. My parents still live in one of the most active parts of the region. A few summers ago, a tornado sat itself down on my sister and brother-in-law's house and then jumped the road to the family farm. We lost a lot of buildings and machinery, and nearly all our trees, but amazingly, no one was hurt.
The Plains are notorious for tornadoes, but if you were to sit down with the people living there, most would tell you that tornadoes aren't something they worry about. My family's experience changed that for me. I used to watch storms in the distance from our backyard as they tore through fields and small communities-- always with a feeling of immunity to the haphazard destruction I could clearly see in someone else's life. But not anymore.
-----
Sometimes we watch each other from a distance. Ominous green clouds of silence are ignored. A humid space of ignorance hangs between us. In a whirlwind of frustration and sadness, words bond together to form rage. They plow indiscriminately through families, tearing permanent gashes in people that love us-- that we love. It leaves everything and everyone touched. Some are mute from shock. Some harness the rage of the words and cannot let it go. Some have no remnant of their former self. And some carry only the depression of what is lost.
Words are always chosen over weapons when the intent is to hurt deeply. So, choose your words with compassion and try not to be afraid of honesty. Love can survive rage, but it may falter if we are false to one another.
-Laura
June 8, 2010
Unintentionality
When we arrived in Cincinnati almost 8 months ago we agreed to come live in an intentional community. We would spend time each week (and usually each day) working to make the house where we live into a home for the four of us. There would be a focus of intentionally making our community work.
Well, this past week it happened a little more on its own.
These are the super cool wristbands that were given out at the block party in our neighborhood. There was a block closed to traffic with a whole bunch of food and games on the street. Our contribution to the meal was a small vat of mashed potatoes and then the other half of the cookies we made for the "Bake-Off" competition (better luck next year...). The wristbands were to identify who had paid their dollar to take part in the festivities. Laura and I thought they were so cool we wore them all day on Monday, too. We looked like rockstars.
We only stayed at the shindig for an hour because we had some errands to take care of, but we actually met people that live near us. This has not been something our house has been particularly good at since we moved in. I sometimes wonder if we don't try hard enough to meet those who live around us or if the folks in our neighborhood really enjoy their privacy or both. Whatever the case, I don't think I recognized a single person beyond the two families that go to church with us. Hopefully that will begin to change and we'll get to know the community around us a little better. We'll at least know a few more faces now.
This evening we had a spur-of-the-moment community-building activity. After sweating through some deliciously spicy chips and homemade salsa (courtesy of Chef Katie) we decided to turn back the clock and become elementary-aged firefly hunters. Armed with glass jars we set out to create super cool lightning bug lanterns. I'm sure the view from our neighbors' houses was quite comical as we galavanted gleefully around the front yard then wove our way down to the park. There was even some company for us as two or three white-tailed deer stopped to hang out about 25 meters from where we had paused to count our intermittently luminous captives. Urban deer are around people enough that it generally doesn't phase them to be a couple dozen yards away. The mosquitoes were really glad we stopped to watch the deer, too. Stupid blood-sucking bugs.
We retreated back to our abode and set our firefly jars on the dining room table. We were hoping that the bugs might be more active with their blinking if they were around more of their own kind; after all, fireflies light up because they're looking for a date. There was one that put on a great show, climbing all over the inside of its jar, but the others were fairly disinterested in the local dating scene. Laura thought she might entice them with some music from her iPod. As romantic as it was and irregardless of Laura disc jockeying skillz, they still didn't really seem to care much for their fellow denizens. That is, until we discovered that there were some jazz lovers in our jars. Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald crooned out "Cheek to Cheek" and we finally got a few more to respond. It may have coincided with us trying to make them think our cell phones were huge fireflies, but I'd like to think it was the music.
After a few more minutes of firefly speed dating and cultural enlightenment, we set them free in our back yard. There was nothing intentional about planning for the firefly hunt but it was a great feeling of being comfortable in our own skins as we chased bugs in our pajamas down the street.
Intentional community is good; unintentional community might be even better.
P.S. As lovely as Katie's message was last week, I don't think our mockingbird friend has Internet access. Bummer. If you see our avian amigo, please let the featherbrained Figaro know what's going on.
Well, this past week it happened a little more on its own.
These are the super cool wristbands that were given out at the block party in our neighborhood. There was a block closed to traffic with a whole bunch of food and games on the street. Our contribution to the meal was a small vat of mashed potatoes and then the other half of the cookies we made for the "Bake-Off" competition (better luck next year...). The wristbands were to identify who had paid their dollar to take part in the festivities. Laura and I thought they were so cool we wore them all day on Monday, too. We looked like rockstars.
We only stayed at the shindig for an hour because we had some errands to take care of, but we actually met people that live near us. This has not been something our house has been particularly good at since we moved in. I sometimes wonder if we don't try hard enough to meet those who live around us or if the folks in our neighborhood really enjoy their privacy or both. Whatever the case, I don't think I recognized a single person beyond the two families that go to church with us. Hopefully that will begin to change and we'll get to know the community around us a little better. We'll at least know a few more faces now.
This evening we had a spur-of-the-moment community-building activity. After sweating through some deliciously spicy chips and homemade salsa (courtesy of Chef Katie) we decided to turn back the clock and become elementary-aged firefly hunters. Armed with glass jars we set out to create super cool lightning bug lanterns. I'm sure the view from our neighbors' houses was quite comical as we galavanted gleefully around the front yard then wove our way down to the park. There was even some company for us as two or three white-tailed deer stopped to hang out about 25 meters from where we had paused to count our intermittently luminous captives. Urban deer are around people enough that it generally doesn't phase them to be a couple dozen yards away. The mosquitoes were really glad we stopped to watch the deer, too. Stupid blood-sucking bugs.
We retreated back to our abode and set our firefly jars on the dining room table. We were hoping that the bugs might be more active with their blinking if they were around more of their own kind; after all, fireflies light up because they're looking for a date. There was one that put on a great show, climbing all over the inside of its jar, but the others were fairly disinterested in the local dating scene. Laura thought she might entice them with some music from her iPod. As romantic as it was and irregardless of Laura disc jockeying skillz, they still didn't really seem to care much for their fellow denizens. That is, until we discovered that there were some jazz lovers in our jars. Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald crooned out "Cheek to Cheek" and we finally got a few more to respond. It may have coincided with us trying to make them think our cell phones were huge fireflies, but I'd like to think it was the music.
After a few more minutes of firefly speed dating and cultural enlightenment, we set them free in our back yard. There was nothing intentional about planning for the firefly hunt but it was a great feeling of being comfortable in our own skins as we chased bugs in our pajamas down the street.
Intentional community is good; unintentional community might be even better.
P.S. As lovely as Katie's message was last week, I don't think our mockingbird friend has Internet access. Bummer. If you see our avian amigo, please let the featherbrained Figaro know what's going on.
June 2, 2010
Ode to a Mockingbird
"Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. ... That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird." From: To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
Dear Mockingbird in our Backyard,
If you are reading this (and I hope that you are), I implore you to kindly wait to sing your sweet and mel(odious) refrain until it is actually daylight. Yes, I know dear bird, I have been confused lately too. It does appear that night is as bright as day due to our ever so conscientious neighbor's fog lights as I like to call them. The lights on the side of her house are suspiciously akin to lights one would find on a freight ship at sea in the dead of night.
Serenity now!!! I have been quietly pleading at times when said lights have illuminated my bedroom to the point of absurdity. Just when I believe that I can get used to the idea of sleeping in a light-drenched room, you feel the need to vent your frustrations as well. I understand that you have not been able to achieve a dream-filled slumber either, but in the name of all that is holy!!, please remember your loving friends at 2144.
Otherwise, I just may resort to extreme measures. With Harper Lee's words of wisdom aside, a well-aimed rock propelled in your direction during one of your tuning sessions(that may or may not be considered an accident), would subsequently be used to shatter the lights on the side of our neighbor's house. Kill two birds with one stone, as I always like to say.
Please don't be offended! I only meant that perhaps it would be best for us both if you considered finding a new home. What about an oak tree, or perhaps a locust tree? They are lovely this time of year, I hear. Or how about a dogwood or magnolia? I suppose any flowering tree really. As long as the flowers can properly frame your exquisite silhouette in all of your majestic might and glory. Was that too much? It's just that a bird of your stature and repute can ill-afford to be seen in any of the shabby trees we have to offer in our backyard. As your slavishly devoted friend, I have only your best interests at heart. Honest.
It is time for me to go now. I bid you adieu, and hopefully(VERY)soon, you will have found a home that befits your eminence and prestige.
A Helpful Friend Always,
Katie
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