"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!"..."What's a tornado!?"

After what seems like a blink of an eye, but has actually been 6 months in the making, I am sitting in an office at Covenant Harbor Bible Camp...that's right, the very same camp where I spent 8 years' worth of summers and winters as a camper. The last time I was here was circa January 1994. Yikes.

As I spent Monday evening walking around this place I both know so well and am at once completely unfamiliar with, I was struck by the brick walkway leading around and up to the boathouse. BA-zing! These bricks I know. This walk I remember. (No, not in the Shane West/Mandy Moore kind of way..."Now you're in two places at once!") These are the same Purington Paver-type bricks that were in front of my grandparent's house on Academy Street in Galesburg. I always loved coloring the circular designs and parallel lines with my Crayola crayons.

While overwhelmed by my OCD brain swirls of things to do, things that have yet to be done, the anticipation of the season to come, the privilege of experiencing and witnessing grace again and again....mostly I just wanted to cop a squat and color; to escape the adult sense of fear and reality that has become my truth. Since when am I the old-lady teacher consumed with responsibility and obligation? My adventuresome side is still here, it's just accompanied by an unrecognizable white-knuckling that I'm just beginning to wave hello to...as I said to Keller last night, "The thing I fear most is also the thing I'm most hopeful for and excited about..." That applies to so many areas of my being and on multiple levels. Seriously. Sidewalk chalk; stat.

I had a similar rush of memories when looking out the windows on the second floor of the Carriage House, another when passing the steps leading up to the "big field" near what is now called Kishwauketo. Those stairs where nearly a quarter of a mile long when I was ten...

If you've ever been to summer camp, humor me and post your memories here.

"If nothing else, life in the suburbs promised that one might go from day-to-day without finding stool samples in their hair."

the blog title comes from David Sedaris. as i sit and attempt to mourn another familiar loss, cliches abound. i make no apologies. i give no explanations. they will be apparent to those who understand. and those that know the "jill" that has always been here will shrug, perhaps challenge me at a later date...i have been reading, listening, praying, questioning, seeking, resting. but obviously not sleeping. metaphors, similes, connections, stifled expression.

"If one's addicted, one does that in lieu of having a life." -James Taylor; Rolling Stone, July 1997

trees are bending to the metal blades
singing songs that never die
growing old with every monument
like the sand beneath the tide
all these feelings rolling by
and you been on my mind tonight
i'm alone
but it's not loneliness
another way to pass the time
i don't think about what might have been
if we'd seen it eye to eye
i could love you through a night
but i can't save nobodies life
hear the freight train cry along
through the winter countryside
he will stop awhile in every town
only long enough to sigh
maybe now is not the time
for anything i say
may be a lie
i can make you laugh and cry
but i can't let no one inside
i haven't got a lot to say
not a word to make it right
all my wishes go to you, my love
have a peace we couldn't find
like the leaves go when they die
they float across a windy silver sky
so i won't say it as goodbye
for darling, all is love and love is life
-Abe Abraham


"Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note it smashes the glass and spills the liquid. It is no conservationist love...How can you stick at a game when the rules keep changing? I shall call myself Alice and play croquet with the flamingoes. In Wonderland everyone cheats and love is Wonderland, isn't it? Love makes the world go round. Love is blind. All you need is love. Nobody ever died of a broken heart. You'll get over it. It'll be different when you're married. Time's a great healer...
It's the cliches that cause the trouble. A precise emotion seeks a precise expression. If what I feel is not precise then should I call it love? It is so terrifying, love, that all i can do it shove it under a dump bin of pink cuddly toys and send myself a greeting card saying 'Congratulations on your Engagement'. But I am not engaged and I am deeply distracted. I am desperately looking the other way so that love won't see me. I want the diluted version, the sloppy language, the insignificant gestures. The saggy armchair of cliches. It's all right, millions of bottoms have sat here before me. The springs are well worn, the fabric smelly and familiar. I don't have to be frightened..." -Jeanette Winterson


And all shall fade
the flowers of spring
the world and all the sorrows
at the heart of everything

but still it stays
the butterfly sings
and opens purple summer
with a flutter of its wings

the earth will wave with corn
the grey-fly choir will mourn
and mares will neigh
with stallions that they mate
foals they've borne

and all shall know the wonder
of purple summer...

And yet, I wait
the swallow brings
a song too hard to follow
that no one else can sing

the fences sway
the porches swing
the sky begins to thunder
crickets wander, murmuring

the earth will wave with corn
the grey-fly choir will mourn
and mares will neigh
with stallions that they mate
foals they've borne

and all shall know the wonder
I will sing the song of purple summer

and all shall know the wonder
I will sing the song of purple summer
-Lauren Pritchard


metaphors, similes, connections, stifled expression. welcome to my world.

"dust on my face is smearing in the rain, and for the first time i don't know what to say. and now the orange sky is traveling my way..."