In which Emily enjoys the fruits (vegetables?) of her labour...

July 17/12

Aug. 7/12

Those carrots were marvelous, for the record!

My dearest Liz

Dylan vs the World

Were you aware that a standard size hair net fits over your entire head from under your chin to your hairline on the back of your neck, if you put the seams at your ears? Neither were we until today.

waiting...

As I sit here in intense pain in the kitchen office, waiting for my Tylenol to start working, I've been wondering about what my life will look like over the next year-ish. (I don't like to go any farther ahead than a year, only because I usually get disappointed by the reality, while keeping the fiction alive in my mind.)

I like to clean. That's a fact about me that I don't keep secret well enough. I also like to sing, even though I haven't done enough of it over the past few years to keep me sane.

Popcorn with margarine and seasoning salt for a late night snack is always a win.

After spending a few years at camp, cabin leaders who constantly yell at their children (or even use loud voices), who sneak away from their children, who use sarcasm while speaking to their children, who speak to their children in anger, who basically don't give their 100% for the children to give them the greatest camp experience ever actually make me want to yell in anger. And that hasn't happened in a long, long time.

People who are manipulative and get everything they want make me want to scream.

We have some British volunteers here this week and despite the fact that it makes me miss the UK like crazy, it's made me hyper aware of how much I speak with an English accent. Having them here has also made it exceedingly difficult to not speak in an accent all the time. But they're just absolutely amazing people, and I wouldn't trade anything that's happened this week for having them here.

I've cried more in these past three months than I think I have since last year at this time. I actually don't think I cry at all when I'm not at camp.

Speaking of last year at this time: I was in Scotland. I can't stop thinking about it, and it's making me grumpy and my heart has felt like it's been in a vice since Sunday. I've also been informed not so cheerfully by some coworkers that I've had a scowl on my face all week. Hm. I think I'm gonna go clean something and decompress...

Somehow, [Even though I'm weak and try to run.]
through it all, [All the crap, all the pain, all the anger, and all the longing.]
God is good. [Even though I don't know how.]
All the time. [Even when I don't spend enough time loving Him.]
God is good. [Especially when I'm not.]
God is good. [I wish I trusted in that 110%.]
God is good. [I'm going to keep saying it until I actually believe it.]



God is good.