Renewal

This head of hair I shaved

My scalp inhales

Breathes in the wondrous sun

Drinks rain and snow in heavy gulps

My pale skin has never been kissed

Hair falls in a lifeless heap

Piled thick

From this angle I recognize feeble dead cells

Belonging to me no longer

Graying in the grave

Zoysiagrass springs splendidly

A silk blanket letting in the breeze

Welcoming the sun and growing in the rain

Gracing my cheeks

A meadow of renewed glory

Identity

The irony of identity is its reflective nature.
You are what you put in to yourself. What you watch, what you read, who you spend time with. You are greatly effected by what you invest in.

 I find my identity in being a child of God.
The moment I question who I am, I am questioning who God is. I proceed to replace the qualities and beliefs I know are pure, good and true. I then begin to root my identity in what other people think of me, in how much power I hold, in the measure of my success. Unattended the roots plant deeply and I am left looking like a mirror of the world, a reflection of lies.

I want to reflect the truth.
I give up buying in to the lies of the world. God, in my mirror replace the worlds reflection with your glorious profile.
"I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified." 1 Cor 2:2

Team 2: Beach Front

Olesia, Radek, and Paulina

Today while making beds, I asked Radek and Paulina if they would be willing to teach me a little bit of Polish each day. By the end of the summer I should know how to make small talk. I spend at least 9 hours with them every day, why shouldn't I try to learn?
Dzień Dobry, "Good Morning"
Nazywam się "My name is..."
Jestem Brianna "I am Brianna"
Dziękuję "Thank you"
Proszę bardzo "You're welcome"
And this one comes in handy; Zapomniałem "I forgot"


It feels good to tell my team "Dobra robota" "Good Job"

Blobs

We are these little blobs walking around on a solid slab of material. We are composed of cheap material. Our bodies are replaceable. We are mere creatures. We own nothing. We create nothing.
But we are not nothing.
We are more than the color of our eyes and the tone of our voices. Our potential lies beyond the strength in our legs and the tow of our arms. Beyond the form of my body, I exist.

I think. I feel. I love. I doubt. I yearn. I lust. I hurt. I trust.
The limits of humanity are defied by my soul.
Yet my soul behaves with human likeness.

My soul may be "downcast within me" and "weary with sorrow" yet "thirst for God" where, and only where "my soul finds rest". "My soul yearns, even faints" "is consumed" with the splendor of the King. With my soul "I will sing and make music" praising the one I adore. This tender soul "yearns for you in the night" while "in the morning my spirit longs for you".
Only by comparison to my imperfect human descriptions can I attempt to explain the intricacies of my soul.

By nature the soul's realm is ethereal, by contrast it defines humanity.

Fear

What do I fear most?
 Is it rejection of other people?
 Is it failure of success?
 Is it monetary instability?
 Is it a duration of loneliness?

Rather than approach these crippling instigations, I should ask myself;
 Do I fear God well?

If in me is an ever present, unshakeable reverential awe of His overwhelming power, grace and love I shall not be afraid. Correct fear of Him will correct my other fears.

"There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." 1 John 4:18

Why should I give in to unnecessary worry when I am astounded by his omnipotence?
Why should I give in to unnecessary doubt when I am reminded daily of his omniscience?
Why should I fear the mere trifles of this world when I am held by the World Spinner?

Instill in me a renewed, steadfast, healthy fear; This I pray.

Disconnect

Psalm 16:2 "You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing."

I want to be genuine. I want to portray the truth.
I want to eliminate the disconnect of what people see and my hidden thoughts and beliefs.
I want to be me, fully me, all the time, in every way.
But if it is the truth I desire to emit, and my beliefs are grounded in the saving grace of the one true God, what people see when they see me should not look like me at all.
I should look like the love, mercy, grace, honesty, obedience and loyalty that is the God I serve.
These things are not found in me, so my false human complexion melts away and is replaced with the truth.
Is it that I should become something new altogether?
Can I become the love I desire to show others, rather than just show it? If so, then the gap would be closed and I would be whole.
The gap, the disconnect which I crave so strongly to be completed, is a puzzle piece specifically designed for One.

NYC

Tomorrow will be a week since arrival here at Camp of the Woods.
As I normally note on trips of any duration, the days go by quickly yet in retrospect, time moves at a slow pace. It's as if we have been here for a month. The amount of growth that has happened from day 1 until now is astounding and encourages me to think; what will August 13 feel like?
First off, I have traveled beyond feeling hazy and disconnected amongst the blur of students buzzing in and out of the introductory stage. I now recognize people and can actually remember some of their names! I thank God for answering my prayer, that a settling would come over all of us. I pray God would continue to foster relationships amongst our community.
Secondly, I thank God for giving me patience and intentional slowness while interacting with the international students. I can see they are becoming significantly more comfortable around me and the other employees. I pray now God would give me opportunities to question their beliefs and share mine.

Whenever work is over I have Polish and Ukrainian chatter going on in my head. If that is how I feel after spending 8 hours with them, I can't imagine what they feel like surrounded by a foreign language. My team consists of Radek and Paulina who are from Poland, and Olesia who is from the Ukraine. Olesia understands English very well and I enjoy talking to her. She kept saying "I very like this", or "I very want to do such-and-such." I explained to her that "really" would be a better fit for situations like that. She loved that I corrected her.
Radek explained to me today while we were mopping a porch that he likes talking to Americans better "face-to-face" because when other Polish people are around he gets stressed out because they speak English more fluently than he does. He also told me today that he has never had such a laborous job and he is thankful that this job is teaching him how to earn money. However, the only reason he is here is because it was his only opportunity to come to the U.S. He would rather not work, like everyone else I am sure.
Paulina is a beautiful girl who I can tell loves to have fun and be a girl. Consequently, she lags a bit with work but I can see she works hard when she needs to.
I wish I could have them all stay at my house and bring them to the city...

Change Over

Between me and the international students I feel a wall that I pray is broken down.
Before I left for camp I prayed God would ready my heart for what I would encounter while at camp. He kept bringing me to passages that were clearly teaching me "You come last." I felt him teaching me the importance of servanthood, and I was a little confused because I thought I understood that.

God has been revealing to me ways I can practice being a servant leader. We have been working for three days now, learning how to clean toilets, scrub showers, make beds with hospital corners and work together. Each day has brought new challenges and I reflect on my actions each night while lying in bed and wonder what I could have done better. It is hard because of the language barrier, I try very hard to not boss the students around, treat them with respect and let them know we are both on the same level, we just may have trouble understanding each other.
After sitting through a leadership seminar today I learned the qualities of a good leader are brokenness, uncommon communion, and radical obedience. It is one thing to sit through a seminar, it is another to be beach front delegating the rooms that need to be completed before 12 o'clock.

My daily prayer, rather, my hourly prayer is "God, I submit myself and my job to you. I rely on you for guidance and I trust your hand. I rely on you for strength. May I be your loving kindness to these students. May nothing but respect, trust, honesty and authenticity be the language with which I speak to them."

Monsters Under the Bed

I have never met a man who takes a toilet more seriously. Today I met my boss; a tall-beer-bellied-white bearded-toilet hugging-respectful-slapstick humor fan of a boss, D.B. I couldn't imagine learning a more respectful way to go about cleaning the shower floor. D.B. has a way of instilling honor in the most lowly of tasks.
How can I feel so engaged when he is explaining how to correctly disinfect a sink?

I am a team leader, along with 7 other girls. A team leader is assigned three housekeepers-4 to a team-and works in a designated set of buildings all summer. I am assigned to a stretch of houses along the beach front. Wednesday I will learn who is officially on my team.

Today we sat through 4 hours of lecture I like to call "elite hospitality for dummies". After lunch we were thrown in to cleaning a set of houses along the beach front. It was a little hectic because we didn't have our official teams or assignments yet, but we managed. I am curious how fast we will be turning rooms over by the end of the summer. Today feet were expectantly dragging.

My excitement grew exponentially today as I met and worked alongside about 10-15 international students. They are all a part of the Camp America program and were selected randomly to work here at Camp of the Woods. Although it presents a language barrier between Poland, Russia, Ukraine and the U.S. there in lies the opportunity to cross cultures, take on challenges and work on my patience. They are very willing to learn, friendly, young and interested in the culture.
I spent a while talking to Lukas, he is 23, and just arrived here from Poland three days ago. His English was ok but is getting better by leaps and bounds as he is forced to communicate in such a way. I had fun explaining the multiple meanings of "engaged", the difference between "whatever" and "never mind" and learning how to say "good morning" and "how are you" in Polish. I feel so weird speaking Polish.

I wouldn't want any other job here.

Staring.

I wake up at the time I need to.
I dress myself in the clothes I bought to make me feel good.
I eat what I think is best suitable for my body.
I talk to the people who interest me.
I drive the car I own.
I go to the places I want.
My life is a mirror. I stand and stare.

Life is a sky.
It extends beyond one fixed point.
It moves with the seasons, and shifts with the hours.
It contains the past and present.
It envelops the world, places of which I am not familiar.
There is no such thing as "My" life.
I am alive. I am a part of Life.
But life does not belong to me.
To claim it as my own would drain the sea to a drop.
I would much rather stand and stare at the sky.

We have free time today. Not for long!

Familiar Faces

Will meeting new people always feel like the first day of college?
In new places I find new faces. Yet these faces are the same. I have seen that smile before. No, it is not that your face looks like someone back home, it is just that your face is clothed in the same wiley grin as the last person to whom I was introduced. Don't be alarmed, I clothe myself with the same smile. The "Hi, how are you? I don't know you're name but we are about to engage in a very surface level conversation of which I just had with five people before you. You don't know this is all going through my head, because I just told you where I live and what I do. And because I am thinking all of this I wont remember your name when you depart in five seconds to go serve the volleyball."
I enjoy meeting people. But I don't enjoy just meeting people. Rather than spit a few facts to me about your life and walk away, I would choose to engage in a deeper conversation and get familiar with a little chunk of your soul. This way I could have more of a true and engaging association with you when we walk past each other in the dining hall. What is that persons name? Where did they say they were working? Versus I wonder how her mother is doing? What came of the phone call to her grandmother?
Yet I am aware that our culture, our age group does not function this way.
I wonder if I could be counter cultural...

Infinity

Imagine infinity

Paint her red

String a strand of pearls around her neck

And watch her dance in the empty craters of the moon

Her timeless movement resurrects your buried dreams

Dreams you gave up on, for lack of time

Her swift figure reflects in your gaze;

Immobilizing and intoxicating.

She steps seductively into your subconscious,

Whispers promises, water to a parched tongue

And you drink.

Swallow.

Stare.

Until grey hair covers your eyes

And yellow fingernails curl under

The stench of your ignorance

Lifts the confused haze from your eyes

Your wristwatch clamps tightly

The finite, oppressive, imprisoning chain.

Your translucent skin beneath its ticking face

Shows waving wrinkles over a blue sea of veins

That disclose one thousand years have passed.

While you sat, nailed in awe.

In dumb wonder

The alluringly draped lady strips down

Until only your white pearls grace her bosom

Betraying in beautiful innocence

A moment,

She twirls and abandons

The old and ugly figure that frantically

Stares at the blank and boring face of time

Silent Siege

He lays siege and conquers a familiar land,

Vulnerable in its rosy pink color

The dark figure sends no messenger

Of considerate or fair warning

A dastardly entrance, made under night’s black veil

Gives the thief and his steed an advantage

His pursued opponent lay red in drowsy fluid,

Peacefully snoring songs of the stars

The masked intruder takes inventory

Of dormant and disposable affection

He drinks and drains with avid greed.

Diminishing such innocence to flaccid grief

His piercing sword disposes savory slumber

Leaving the beating orb

Pale and blue and wide eyed

Satisfied, he mounts scarcity’s horse

With a full stomach, he rides back into

An aching darkness

The echo of robbery plays to

A reverberating afflicted beat           

Comprising the chilling overture of dearth

Oral Persuasion

Under his nostrils in a gaping cave

Lives a ravenous monster, rickety

With passion and a fiery appetite

He is ready to steal.

His soft red coat

Unfastens to expose his white skeleton

Vulnerable and well maintained

He demands your adoration.

Practiced hands play his alluring tune

The melody claws your heart

Until, breast to breast,

His breath is on your lips.

The red beast exhales lust on your tongue

Your eyes succumb to warm passion

As your salivating soul submits,

He gently melts the snow covered ground.

A shiver disturbs his spell

Absence dark as night

By shallow light, the blood trail wounds.

Biting deeper, his betraying melody plays

A faint recurring tune

Your weary eyes squint away the dim

To unveil shadowy movement of the sly beast

Robbing another.

Organs Familiar

How peculiar is the correlation of the smelling organ to the heart;

Standing entrances to your soul

Whether turned up in arrogance

Digging into the business of others where belonging lacks     

These doors tickle emotion’s ivory

A terrible habit, unsound.

Mind betraying; instinct and desire raid

Set up camp and settle to replace truth.

A slight aroma

Stomach rumbles, salivation

Glutton’s gateway inhales.

The heart is stricken by a feeling long forgotten

            His warm touch delights familiar emotion

Clouding your better judgment

You are not really hungry.

These powerful soldiers hold the weapon of memory

Ammunition vast, innumerable, lively, compelling.

In an instant their direct aim has you face down

Head covered

Bowing under the weight of obedience

Focus on the smell of love.

Captured, your mind dies in desire

The Descent

They step over roots

Crunching confetti from autumn’s final hoorah

Smelling the blue of the brook

Green shade brings short sleeve relief

He steadied her clumsy step

A stolen moment tucked under careful stride

A yellowing leaf blurs in and out

The wrinkled log planted beneath her

Is an anchor strung to bliss balloons

Smoky conversation blinks behind the trickle

His hat disguises proximities chill

Their burdens melt beneath the white cascade