You know how sometimes after something great happens, I race off to twitter or the blogosphere, about to burst from readiness to tell about it, knowing that yelling my joy from the internet mountaintop is not only good because I get to share something monumental, but also because writing it helps me process my own feelings? That works out pretty okay.
And then you know how there are other times when I delay writing about awesome things, or posting pictures, because I know that any memories I capture will be only imperfect snippets of how it lives in my mind? That's also okay. And it's why I haven't written this blog post about Montreat yet, even though I've been home for weeks.
But my new friend Liz reminded me of a me-thing this week (in particular a nostalgic-scrapbooky-bloggity-me-thing) about how pictures and videos and words help give us something tangible to hold onto, so we know it really happened, that the awesomeness of our memories isn't just in our heads. And that's smart too.
And I don't want this experience to live only in my memory, so even though I'm not sure how to articulate my feelings about it very well, I'm sure going to try.
So, short story background -- I have wanted to go with our church to the youth conference at Montreat for several years. Everyone comes back full of
feelings about it, loves it, raves about it, but I had never been there myself. Another Nathan had been asked to lead music for several weeks of the conference this summer (which is a huge honor) (and also a ton of work) and one of the weeks overlapped with when our own church youth group was going, so yeah. This was the year to finally make it happen.
And I am so glad I did. It was an amazing, life-giving, spirit-filled week. Almost a month later, I am still high on it.
So. Highs and highlights, the Montreat list:
1.) Mommy-Nathan time. I decided to apply to be a small group leader (nothing like my first conference experience being elbow-deep in the
work of the conference, whoa) (Erin full throttle?) (anyway) and it turns out that for volunteers in that capacity, the conference provides "childcare" in the form of letting our kids come to Montreat's clubs/camps for free. Um, yes please. So Nathan got to be my roomie all week! And he had a
ball.
He came out of his shell like nothing I could have even expected. Meeting new kids, talking more easily with adults, and eating almost anything we put in front of him (the first night he ate a burrito. A BURRITO. My kid doesn't eat burritos. And then later in the week he ate zucchini tacos and deviled crabs and stuffed shells with ricotta and baked fish. That bears repeating: HE ATE MONTREAT FISH). We went on ice cream dates to the Huckleberry. We shopped for the perfect Montreat t-shirt (for him, not me) (obvs) and a new button for his backpack. He stayed up late and sang loud next to me in worship.
He raced in circles outside. He climbed a million steps. He swam in a freezing cold pool up on that mountain. He bravely paddle-boated with his camp friends. Twice! He went creek hopping and fell in and was
glad to be sopping wet in his clothes. Montreat does odd (and wonderful) things to a kid, y'all.
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| with Daddy, on our sneak peek visit the week before |
I loved having so much special time with him. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was crazy busy. He was too. But having all my meals and worship evenings and nights together was so lovely. Wearing our backpacks walking all around together every day was slow and fun and sweet. The morning trips down from the inn to our first days' events were the best walks, when it was almost
cool out, and the lake was still and clear, and we could stop and talk and look at the ducks or fish or whatever.
It was the exact perfect thing for my mommy heart before he starts school this fall. Basically all my Montreat memories, for as many years as I keep going, will always be tied up in this first week there with him.
2.) My small group. I was assigned a group of 25ish kids and a few adults, and we spent
lots of each day together -- several hours each morning and afternoon -- to learn and pray and talk through the topics and scriptures covered in the keynote talks each morning, and worship each evening. I was nervous because I had never done anything like that, but they trained us up and gave us a superb manual full of activities, and it ended up being great.
My kids were quieter than I was expecting (I had braced myself for rowdy and had the opposite problem) but we did all manner of serious and funny things -- scripture skits and trust runs (yes, trust runs are a thing, and way more fun than trust falls) and games and listening to music and talking about hard stuff. In some cases,
really hard stuff. And they were all thoughtful and smart and funny.
And on the last day the boys talked us into climbing into the creek for a group picture.
There is a cool and beautiful thing that happens in these small groups. They don't know each other at all, but by the end of the week they are supportive and affirming and honest in relational ways that would take months to cultivate at home. One of the conference co-directors
described it like this, remembering herself as a y
outh: "It was healing to be in a place with one thousand other teenagers where I could be fully known by God, yet anonymous enough to wrestle with faith and doubt in a safe, Spirit-filled smaller group of 30 strangers who quickly became confidants and friends." Yes, yes, yes. This. Totally how it felt.
And you know what I learned, that I have always kind of known, but was glad to be reminded of? Teenagers are so much better, just
as people, than most adults give them credit for. I really believe that.
3.) Dorm life. As a small group leader, I stayed on the top floor of the inn at Montreat, with all the other volunteers and staff for the conference. It was a breeding ground for the exact lifestyle you'd imagine -- lots of sitting around laughing together, helping each other plan small group sessions, wandering in and out of each other's rooms in PJs and sock feet, and staying awake way later than we should, to laugh so hard we cried, not because anything was even that funny but because those situations make you feel close to people so quickly and also make you punchy-tired and that combination never
doesn't end in laughing so hard you cry. You know. It's nice to know those moments don't go away when you're a grownup.
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| my fellow small group leaders. what an incredibly fun team to be part of. |
4.) Color run. One of our rec events was a a color run around Montreat -- you know, where everyone wears white and people throw powdered color and by the end it's all a hot colorful mess? Yeah. We did that.
Nathan had seen pictures from an earlier week and was so excited for it than I pulled him out of his camp early that afternoon to come "help" me throw color. He and Another Nathan and I were the first station, we threw pink and blue, and it was hilarious.
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| Mary, Olivia, Mary Catherine -- some of my favorite wmpc youth! |
Nathan ended up covered in blue by the end, and he didn't care one bit. He even
liked it. (I am telling you, I do not know who this child was at Montreat.)
Then he ate popsicles and a hundred people took his picture. And my scalp was pink for two more weeks. But whatevs. It was a win.
5.) Utah Liz. I knew I would meet awesome people at Montreat, but I really truly did not know they would be as awesome as they were. So many great new friends, more than I can ever tell about here, but this lovely lady Liz is right at the top of the list. We bonded over our matching meyers-briggs types and both being praise junkies (like, not in a churchy way but in a please-compliment-me-with-gold-stars way) (although we both like church too) (hence going to church camp as grownups). We prowled around the grounds together in reflective vests for covenant patrol, using flashlights to search for kids making out in shrubs and being secretly sad we didn't find any, except not really, because we cared more about taking a walk at midnight and jabbering and laughing together anyway. It seems she's the kind of friend who after only a few days can hear your honest insecurities, awkward lactation problems, sort through scripture, help you cry over hurt teenagers, and then help you tailgate a dude with a supah-cray license plate because you both NEED to see what kind of person was driving.
Also she's really pretty. And I'm not just saying that because NC humidity gives her good hair (or because she's a praise junkie). She really totally is a beautiful person. She
gets me in a way that you don't often find in a friend that quickly, and we decided we have to be more than camp besties, but real life friends. And we will be. We are.
6.) Another Nathan's voice. Oh man this one is hard for me to articulate. Our theme for the week was "Here and Be Heard" and we talked a lot about being present and aware and listening, so I was maybe hyper-attuned to it. And of course I
hear him all the time -- he is my choir director and best friend, and between the two of us, we are not un-chatty. But him laughing with my kids or nonsense singing to the radio, or even our earnest friend-talks, are a far cry from hearing him sing and pray over hundreds of people far from home, and it got me
at my core.
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| photo: Taylor Miller |
Not that any song or prayer or laugh was for
me specifically, but the familiarity of his voice over an auditorium packed with strangers, it just made me feel
known somehow -- like those strangers were also
friends, and in the company of God. An odd juxtapostition I won't forget. I have to believe many others felt it too.
In fact, I
know they did. On the last night, when everyone takes candles out around the lake for our final worship, I found myself hugging and crying our girls from youth choir here at home, who were so taken with Another Nathan's (to them,
our Nathan's) voice on a speaker across the lake, praying for
them, the graduated seniors, in the final moments of the conference.
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| photo: Mike Erdelyi, via Ashley-Anne Masters |
Yeah, so seeing him up there, helping make that happen, the mysterious awesome Thing he loves to talk about that happens when people sing together -- doing
what he is called to do, at a level I have never seen before -- well, I have never been prouder of him. Or more touched by his ministry.
(If you want to hear, there are couple of videos from worship during the week on his YouTube feed
here and
here and something for Simon and Garfunkel fans
here. You probably definitely want to watch.)
7.) Energizers. Do other people do energizers? Like, pop music with nonsense choreography to wake us up and make us silly? Is this just a Presbyterian youth thing? Google is telling me some version of this happens in other situations, but it doesn't look quite like what was going on at Montreat. You really cannot imagine it
unless you see it.
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| photo: Taylor Miller |
Anyway this was super fun to do with the youth kids from our home church every morning, especially my favorite youth choir girls, who were pretty much my personal energizer coaches. (I still barely know how to do them all. But it was fun!) (Like more fun than I even want to admit.)
8.) This list could go forever but it won't. I didn't even write about how weird-then-suddenly-awesome it was to shed my purse and be a Backpack Person again for a week. Or Nathan doing an outer space sticker-by-number birthday gift to decorate our room. Or how he answered our door when I was awkwardly bathrooming five feet from the entry and "took a message" from a pastor wanting to talk to me. Or how he covered the sidewalk outside the auditorium with chalk drawings of dinosaurs. Or about waiting in a hot muggy line for ice cream one night while it poured rain outside. Or staying up crazy late exchanging soul-bearing stories with Mr. David who is not just about orange shoelaces around here anymore. Or the little display about Mister Rogers in the Presbyterian Heritage Center, which Nathan was (un)shockingly enthralled with. Or how attached I became to bottled Starbucks frappucinos over crushed ice in my favorite Furman tervis, and how that will now and forever taste like Montreat to me.
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friends! at Montreat!
(he forgot his nametag that day and someone told me he didn't need one --
"his smile is his nametag" haaaaaaa yep pretty much.) |
I could ramble on and on about how being something besides wife-Erin and mommy-Erin for a week (yes, technically I was still a mommy there, but Nathan was fairly separate from my work with the youth themselves) was so
so good for me. Like, balanced and stimulating and perspective-ing, because I also
couldn't wait to see Mark and the girls again afterward. And I could ramble even more about what a happy healthy reminder it was that I need to feed my sometimes-starving inner extrovert. I love meeting new people. Really
love it. And life doesn't hand me that opportunity as often these days as it once did, so it was brilliantly fun and soul-fueling.
Basically that sums up the week itself, so I should stop there: brilliantly fun and soul-fueling.
A week away of talking and singing and praying and laughing with teenagers and people who love them? RECOMMEND. (Marky already can't wait to come next year also.)
I officially *heart* Montreat.
(Even more pics if you
click here.)
