The Sweetest Little Dovelies

Every Friday night at Camp, we give awards to our campers. For our two-week session, my co-counselors and I made hand-bound books with leaves on the covers, kind of Peter Pan-esque. Inside the books, we wrote this poem that explains all of the feelings we have towards our campers and the time they spend with us at Camp - 

Once upon a time

Far, far away

There lived a little dovely

And she was more beautiful than any, I daresay

Her soul was as pure as a crystal

She loved all people so well

So wholly, so kindly, so happily

That she had a great heart, anyone could tell

Dear Dovely had a house

Where Christmas and Thanksgiving she spent

But every mid-July

It was down South, towards home, she went

Like all the best Dovelies,

She knew how to fly

To spread out those wings

And head straight for the sky

So she flew over here, of course,

Every mid-July

With her bags all packed

And her head held high

“Hello!” she said

With a smile on her face,

“I have come to bring

Happiness and joy to this place”

The people who lived there

Had been waiting all year

For the arrival of this Dovely

And when she came, with glee they did cheer

And with that,

She was welcomed right in

She was greeted with hugs

And reciprocated with a lovely grin

You see, at Camp, this Dovely was happy

All the whole day long

Swimming, playing, dancing,

And singing many Camp songs

But she couldn’t stay forever

At this place where her heart is full

She had to go and spread the joy

To teach others how to love by the bucket-full

She knows that this is her home

It’s the place where, of heart, there is no lack

And we don’t have to be sad

Because we know you’ll always be back

Every moment spent with you was precious

We are so glad you came

We are sad to see you go

But will always remember your name

Spending days in the sunshine

Is what we always liked to do

But we never knew how sweet it could be
Until we did it with you!

For the Moments I Feel Faint

A week ago I learned the names of eight ladies with whom I now share a cabin. It was this time last week when I took notes on their files in preparation for four days ago, when I finally met them, and it only took a few minutes for me to realize that I quite love them. None of them were shy when we met so we grew close quickly. On the day I met them, I helped them in the bathroom, cut up their dinner for them, and, at bedtime, kissed them each on the head and told them that I loved them. I normally don't tell people I love them on the same day I've met them so that's how I know how special these ladies are. And I do love them each, so much. I love them not because I have to or because I want to (although I do!), but because I just do. 

A week ago, I hadn't even met them. Then three hours ago, I put sunscreen on all of their bodies. Twelve hours from now, they will all be tucked into bed and I will already have kissed them on the head. In a week, it will be the morning of our last day together. Time is fleeting.

A lot of people say that if you love someone, you need to let them go. But why on earth would I ever do that? I don't understand. Because what if it is better for them to be here with me instead of in a far-away place where they are taught to bide their time? Here, we purposely make all of our moments special and it makes time so sweet.

Last night, after my ladies were asleep, I walked around the cabin and checked on everyone. I walked by the lady who is the loudest snorer I've ever met, the lady whose first words when she wakes up are "I slept good!," the lady who giggles as soon as she wakes up, the lady who wiggles her butt in the cutest way when she is happy, the lady who sleeps with her head at the foot of the bed, the lady who likes her hair done in two braids like Anne of Green Gables, the lady who sleeps with an oxygen machine that sounds like a vortex may be coming for us at any moment, and the lady who falls asleep as soon as she gets finished brushing her teeth, but always wakes up to say goodnight when we come around to kiss her. 

I sincerely believe that life would be better if I did not have to let them go. I understand that they have families who love them, and that maybe I would get burnout or something if we were together for every moment for the rest of forever, and also I have to go to school so I can learn to be a grownup, but I love them. So it does not seem fair that they have to go away and then I have to be here without them.

Here, I am my most artistic, my most kind, my most compassionate and caring, my most selfless, and it's because they make me this way. No other group of people could make me the way I am with them, and I am afraid that when they leave, I will go back to being self-absorbed and grouchy and possessive. 

I am afraid for next Thursday to come - our last day together. One of the saddest things I've ever felt is putting campers to bed the night before they go home. I always say, "Goodnight, I love you, see you in the morning." And I will see them in the morning, but that's it. They'll leave me after that. I won't get to see them that afternoon, or that night, or even the next morning. 

These ladies have my heart. They actually have it. I am here at a coffee shop on my time off, but they are back at Camp holding my heart between the eight of them. These eight, as well as all of the others I've known this summer, took a piece of me when we met, before I even thought to brace myself for it. But I'm glad they have it, because even though I had little choice over whether or not they took it, they take good care of it. They know how to get to me - to make me swell with joy and pride for them, and also sometimes go crazy with frustration. They know what they are doing with my heart, and I am glad they have it. I'm glad for each of them to have a piece of myself so I can point at them and say, "she is mine, and I am hers!" Time is hard and being with people is hard, but I am more than grateful for the time I've gotten to spend with these ladies and for the one more week we have together.

For the moments I feel faint, this is what I will remember: everything. The happy, the sad, the frustrating, the celebration of small things, the celebration of big things, the inevitable, the surprising, the moments.

Love,
Lauralicious

Missing from Me

The concept of missing people and things is fascinating to me. It is so interesting that I can be going about my day normally and then suddenly and for no reason get this taste in my heart for a person who isn't with me, or how I can hear or see one little thing and then instantly be thinking of a friend and wishing for and needing them to be with me in that moment. 

I love people. I also like to be alone, but I really love people. And when we are apart, I miss all the pieces of them - the faces they make, the things they do that make me laugh or roll my eyes in amusement, the way they hang on me like a monkey, the way they pronounce certain words, the feelings of pure jubilee that I have from being with one specific person, the way they hold (squeeze) my hand while walking until I feel like my hand is going to be torn off of me but still I don't want them to let go because I like being connected in this way.

My mind normally has a lot going on between what I am doing in a moment and what I am thinking about at that moment and preparing for what I am doing next and what I thought about what I did yesterday and wondering about things that aren't relevant at the moment but do matter and so much more. So I know that if I am going about my day with all of that thinking, then am struck with the thought of a person, I must really miss them. Because with all of that thinking and doing going on and then a person just waltzing into my head and then my heart so fervently aching to be with them - to enjoy their presence and their personality and their idiosyncrasies with utmost fondness in my heart - they are special and dear.

I saw a pin on Pinterest once that said the French for "I miss you" is "tu me manque," which, if translated literally, means "you are missing from me." I don't know if what Pinterest said was exactly true or what but the concept of it is nice - that I can be here, and a person can be away from me - in New Zealand, or Philadelphia, or just around the riverbend, but logistics for spending time together aren't working out - but still they are a part of me, and that part of me is missing. 

It's as if my heart is Voldemort's horcrux. I've split it into so many pieces and given it all around so that it is spread all over creation. However, unlike Voldemort's horcrux, slicing up and giving away my heart makes it more compassionate and more inclined to continue to do so. All of these pieces of me are spread around, but that doesn't mean that there is less of me wherever I am. It means that I am a friendship soup of all of the people I have ever known and loved. 

One day, I will be in Heaven with Christ and with all of these people who have pieces of my heart, and that will be the greatest - to never be separated and to always be with all of those whom I love. Until then, I will miss those to whom I've had to say goodbye (for a day, for six months, for indefinite amounts of time, for potentially the rest of our lives), and I will know and love those who I am with. Just know that pieces of my heart are out there floating around, inside of other people (whether or not they know it) and it's the best thing. 

Love,
Lauralicious