Don't Tell Me It's Over

I've never dealt well with the end of summer. It's always been hard to let go of days filled with worship, games, and friends; and nights filled with stars, laughter, more worship, and girl time.  In the past, it wasn't easy to go home, to be back under authority, back to school. It's always been difficult to be away from people I was with every day for months. 

In the past, though, I had a best friend at home.  I had someone who would share in my pain.  I wasn't alone looking at pictures and finding the PERFECT songs.  The end of the summer was bad, but not so bad.  It wasn't the end of socialization or the end of being with my friends.

This year, however, the end of the summer is even worse than most.  I'm not just leaving freedom, I'm leaving all of my close friends.  I'm not just going home, I'm going back to being mostly alone.  

Just don't tell me it's over.

In which the author jumps back in as though she never left.

TOMORROW TOMORROW TOMORROW!!!! Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, you're only a daaaaay aaawwaaaayyy!!!
What?
What's that?
You want to know why I am so excited for tomorrow?
...
TOO BAD. I'm  not going to tell you. Nanner nanner.
Oh.
What?
What's that?
We're not in second grade anymore?
*shrugs*
News to me.
Fine. I'll tell you.

Tomorrow, Mom and I shall drive to Dowagiac (or Dowa-wa, as Emiller calls it.)  We're going to watch the DUHS alumni soccer game, which will pit Craiger and E-Train against each other in an epic battle of the best friends.  THEN, the great fun begins. Following the game, we're gathering at la casa de Pastor Douglas y Tia Marilyn for a bonfire, complete with s'mores, hot dogs, and (almost) ALL OF MY DOWAGIAC PEOPLE!!

But wait! There's more! If you call now, I'll throw in this cheap book light!

On Saturday, I'm riding to Grand Rapids with Craig for the staff reunion. We shall eat Yesterdog, and swim, and reunite, and hug, and talk about things that happened at camp, and text the people that aren't there (cough, ROOMIE, cough) about how much we wish they were there. THEN, we'll drive back to Dowagiac. The NEXT morning, Mom and I will meet Aunt Kendra and drive back to Piatt Lake, where we shall remain until Thursday.

Plans. I like them.
What?
What's that?
NO. Of COURSE I wasn't just bouncing up and down with excitement.



ps: I apologize for making a lot of this post sound like a post written by someone I really can't stand. Jocie knows. Ohhh, Jocie knows. (I almost died today.)
pps: Expect a post soon-ish, In which the author goes on a bit of a tangent about ministry. That's right. Because it doesn't really matter if you sleep in a hotel or on the ground, whether the Gospel is being preached. One does NOT make you more of a missionary than the other. ...Must... wait... to... discuss...

The Last Song

Love is fragile. And we're not always its best caretakers. We just muddle through and do the best we can. And hope this fragile thing survives against all odds. 


At least you have the courage to feel. You feel everything so deeply.