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This holiday weekend, I went to Family Camp at Forest Home with Christy & Daniel (and their 2 kids) and Leanne. How many of those people are my family? Zero. And yet I still went.

I've actually never been up to Forest Home. It's not far away at all from where I live, and yet it seems like a completely different world. It reminded me a bit of home - winding roads, trees, thousands of stars at night - love it. I really and truly love being in nature (as long as there aren't bugs crawling on me), and there is something so refreshing about mountain air and the sound of a stream and being surrounded by mountains.

The funny thing was, I had a bad attitude soon after we got there. Even though I promised myself that I wouldn't, I felt very out of place. I mean, I knew all along that it was family camp, but I didn't think that I would feel out of place because I was there with close friends. But it seemed like everyone there had not only been going there for years, but was there with their entire family. Like, grandparents on down to grandkids. And nevermind that the two sessions that were being offered today after the sermon were "Building Family Traditions" and "Teaching Your Kids to Think Missionally". Um... yeah... I think I'll go take a nap. (Actually, I ended up having a very good conversation with Leanne in our cabin during those sessions. What is it about camp that makes you feel the need to spill your guts to your friends?) Anyway, the whole camp was very family orienented, and rightly so. Which is why I felt out of place, and therefore, became the bearer of a bad attitude.

On the first night, during the evening service, I sat in my seat next to my 3 dear friends and felt a wall going up around me. I was not going to have a good weekend; I was not going to let God teach me anything because I was annoyed with him for putting me in this situation in the first place. Then the worship leader set aside a few minutes for people to call out things that they were thankful for, and I relunctantly started praying. I told God that I want a place to belong. I want people in my life who know me and love me. And God said to me "my child, they're right there."

Let me tell you - it is not often that I hear directly from God. I mean, he teaches me things and reveals things to me, but I very rarely hear from him. But he spoke those words into my soul as clear as day. I looked to my left and saw Christy, Daniel, and Leanne. I thought about the fact that these people, whom I am not related to, invited me to come to family camp with them. Then I thought about the many other friends that I could have spent Thanksgiving with and felt completely welcome. And I thought about the fact that I have a mom and stepdad at home who love me and would have loved it if I came home to be with them for Thanksgiving. And all of a sudden I felt as if I belonged. Not just in one place, but it many places.

How blessed am I? I mean really. I spent at least 3/4 of the service with tears in my eyes, overwhelmed by all of the goodness that surrounds me on a daily basis. In an instant, that wall was broken down and love filled my heart.

So thank you, all of my dear friends out there. Thank you for making this time on earth a little less lonely, a heck of a lot more fun, and a blessing instead of a burden.

Here are a few pics from the weekend - and please, no comments about my hair. It's camp. I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I showered, and that's really all that mattered. So shut it.


This is a picture I took from a really fun suspension bridge. Leanne and I went on a walk and I loved looking at all the amazing views!


Leanne and I on a walk... it was FREEZING. I loved it.


Me with one of the best kids in the world, Nathaniel, in our matching APU sweatshirts. Represent!

Recently, a friend of mine told me about a project that he's going to start working on. It's something that he's been wanting to do for awhile, it involves using his God-given gifts, and it's going to take a lot of time, resources, and energy. But he seemed really excited about it. And it got me thinking...

Once I graduate from grad school, I am going to start writing a novel. It won't cost me much except for time (and lots of coffee from whichever establishment I find to have the comfiest chairs, the least junior highers, and the tastiest beverages) and effort. I always complain when I don't have something else going on in my life besides work, and this is something I've always wanted to do. You know the whole idea of having a dream job? I think being an author would be a dream job.

So I've started researching how to go about submitting work to literary agents (the people who try to sell your book to a publisher), and although I am in the most basic of basic stages in this process, I am thrilled. This is something I have always wanted to do. It's a little scary because I have no idea if I will end up putting hours and hours into the project and have nothing to show for it (ie, can't find anyone to represent me or to publish me), but that is not going to stop me from trying. I really do believe this is something I can be good at. Great at, actually.

Heidi Marshall - coming to the shelves of your local Barnes & Noble soon.

I am going to lose it.

I went to the first session of my last class tonight. Not only was there almost 30 people in the class (WAY too big to be productive), but I would estimate that at least 60% of the class is 23 years old or younger.

Let me explain a little bit about my grad program. It is, in a nutshell, learning how to work with people, how to make people more productive, and how to have healthy relationships in the workplace. We take classes in things like group dynamics, conflict management, performance improvement, change, and ethics. The best part of the program, hands down, has been learning from other people in the class. I've spent most of my classes over the past couple years deep in discussion with my peers, learning from their experiences and sharing my own. I have been brought to tears more than once by all these wonderful people, because I've gotten to see their passion for people and their hearts for making organizations healthier places.

Recently, a program has started to take people who are right out of college and blast them through the entire masters program in a year flat. Most of the people on this track don't have jobs and many have NEVER had a real job. So here I am, sitting in a classroom with a bunch of young, inexperienced, loud, obnoxious people.

The class tonight was actually quite embarrassing. There were a few people in the class who were just starting the program tonight, and I felt bad for them. I doubt this was what they were expecting. Ok, so the prof left the room for a few minutes so we can decide on our "class norms" (What is this phenomenon of class norms in grad school? We always sit in a room on the first night deciding to be respectful to one another and reminding everyone to put their cells on silent. Really? We're really taking time out of class to talk about these things? Ok...) and the class just went NUTS. People were yelling out ideas, saying ridiculous things like "let's have class at happy hour!" and "let's go on field trips!" and "let's see if he will let us out an hour early every week and cut some assignments out of the syllabus!" AND when the prof was going over some of our assignments, he went through a guide of HOW TO WRITE A PAPER because he said a lot of people in his last class didn't really know how to do research or write a paper.

Here's what I think. I think that in many masters programs, you should not be allowed to start until you have some work experience. It's frustrating, because I think the professor is fine and the syllabus looks good, but I know that this class is going to be a joke.

Hmph.

I'm in Lancaster this weekend visiting my friend Karen. It's been very laid back and enjoyable, with activities such as watching the entire original Star Wars trilogy, grilling some amazing squash and zucchini, joining Starbucks Gold at a local Starbucks, and going to a high school football game. Karen is the music teacher at the local Christian high school, and her drumline was performing at the game. I bundled up in my winter best (it gets colder in the desert than one would assume), grabbed a fantastic Espresso Truffle (with an add shot, naturally) to keep me warm, stopped at Wal-Mart to buy a chair (because I forgot the one Karen had set out for me at her apartment and I don't have a key, nor did I want to a) stand for the whole game, or b) sit in the bleachers with the unwashed masses), argued with the women in the ticket booth and thought about how most people in the world need a little customer service training, and made my way across the track to sit by Karen and the drumline.

It was such a trip. It just took me back to high school. I mean, everyone was there. The cool kids, the misfits that supposedly don't care what people think about them but actually totally do, the insecure girls who were talking way too loudly as a way to compensate, the guy who is not at all affiliated with the music program but still hangs out by the drumline for the whole game and volunteers to help set up and tear down as a way to feel included... yeah. I just wanted to shake all of them and say "trust me, there is more to life than this!!" Which no high schooler will ever believe. But still. It was enjoyable. :)

I don't think I'm going to go to my 10 year high school reunion this summer. Is that bad? I just have little to no desire to go. I barely talk to anyone from high school, and there's nothing I hate more than surface relationships. So an evening of small talk with people I probably won't talk to again for another 10 years just sounds... well, not so fun!

I think it's just part of my personality type that I enjoy deep, meaningful relationships with a small group of people, rather than having lots of acquaintances. Which can sometimes be difficult for me, because I have been blessed with a great many dear friends and to be perfectly honest, I don't have time to have the deep relationship with all of them that I want to have. When I devote to much time to one, then another suffers. And it's never intentional. I guess it's a pretty good problem to have, eh? Having an abundance of people in my life who love me and want my time? I'll stop complaining.