Stretch, Cry, and Stretch Again.

Photo cred to my good friend Jordan

If I were to name a theme for this past week, it would probably be "Emotionally Stretched."

Beginning on Monday morning, we had a full week of training. We talked about love languages one morning, which was one of my favorite sessions last year. It's interesting how physical touch and quality time fight for the top spot depending on the time of year and where I have been living. I am gradually learning to be more okay with words of affirmation, but acts of service and gifts are still pretty low on the preference list.

We did VBS for the local kids on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings, and held training sessions in the afternoons. A good number of junior staff arrived on Tuesday night, and our first meeting as a full staff happened during worship on Wednesday morning. The staff lounge was quite packed, with all 4 1/2 couches and 3 chairs full and the floor lined with people. Shoulder rubs were exchanged and talking children were shushed. In other words, camp felt like it was really beginning.

Tuesday was the day when my emotional level began to plummet rapidly. I'll be the first to admit that my patience for people fell far below where it should have been, and my inner cynicism screamed to be unleashed on anyone who toed the line. Each event that I didn't talk through would drop down on top of the others in a perfectly terrible game of Tetris. When I found one of my kittens with a broken neck on Wednesday, I lost it. I am so grateful that God sent Jenni and Karisa on a walk past the farm at the very time that I was struggling not to cry in front of some young junior staff members who were happily petting the lambs.

The good news of that night is that I cried for a solid 15 minutes in the barn before walking back to camp. After a call to the best friend and some good conversation with the Brother, my heart began to ease its way back into normal mode. The bad news is that it was normal mode for a mentally drained individual.

The issue with having both Tourette's and OCD is that my brain likes to over-process everything. I develop tunnel vision and ignore the signals that I have been thinking about something for too long, and I begin to obsess over it. The events of Tuesday and Wednesday didn't just stack up; each one exploded in my head and mocked me until I finally gave in and let it show in my actions and words. 

Further proof of this reality appeared during our staff camping trip. We played a game of 4-way tug-of-war on the way to our campsite, and Michael fell on some cacti. The older sister in me inwardly freaked out. I was irrationally angry about the whole situation, which was rather ridiculous in hindsight since none of us had gotten hurt while hiking blindfolded in the previous training exercise and he ended up recovering before the end of the night.

I'd like to add to all of this that the staff camping trip turned out absolutely stellar. There were too many laughs to count combined with happy-laugh-tears and an excessive amount of stupidly funny jokes and quality conversations. The longer we bond as a staff, the more thankful that I came back this year. I realize this post is quite scattered in some ways, but I want to once again close with a song. (Apologies for not having the link to the original song--it wouldn't load on the blog.)

"Beneath Water" by Mike Mains & The Branches is yet another worship song that has blasted me away at some point in the past year. The chorus fits the struggle I am currently living: "Hold me underneath the water until the old me dies and slips out of this body and makes me new again." The lyrics speak for themselves.

Camp officially begins on Monday. Prayers for staff unity and renewed energy would be appreciated, as would prayers for the campers who will soon be living with us for a time.

God loves me, and God's love is enough.