2010 Spring Retreat

In 2010, I went on my second spring retreat with my youth group. (I wrote about the first here, relaying the saga of Cody the Nut-thrower, my friend's unwanted admirer.) Once again, I had a basketball game the Friday night the retreat began, and because my dad is self-sacrificing and the retreat center wasn't too far away, he took me over after my game.

What I remember about the game is that our family friend and babysitter, Miss Dori, was there with her "very special friend," Jeremiah. According to my mother, they were now officially courting, and I was gleeful to meet him. Especially since I got to meet him before my older sister did. He and my dad talked so long in the parking lot after my game that I began to despair of making it to the retreat center before the next morning, but I did.

            I stayed in a large, hall-like dorm room which had giant windows at the end. These windows looked out at a distance towards the boy's house, so my sister rigged up a pink sheet as a dressing curtain. When one girl walked over to her bunk, our friend Melissa said from her seat on the window sill, "Don't worry. I'm blocking the window." When I pointed out that she was only blocking part of it, she puffed out her breath to make herself as big as possible. I rolled my eyes, and my sister said, "You can't ever be big enough to block the windows."

"You should be glad that you aren't as wide as two windows!" I cried.

"Yes," Melissa agreed. "That would be... troubling."

Several minutes later, as I looked through my duffle for something, I casually informed my sister, "Miss Dori and her 'friend' were at my game."

She gasped. "I missed him! Tell me what he was like!"

"His name was Jeremiah. He has kind of short, reddish brown hair. Um, he's kind of short, and, uh, he wore a black North Face jacket."

"So does everybody!" she exclaimed. 

"Except for us. And the other people that don't own North Face jackets."

"Well duh, people who don't own them don't wear them. But everyone who does own them does wear them!"

I cackled, and since it was my goal to be insufferable, I asked, "What exactly do you want me to tell you about him? I don't know what color his shoes are, and-"

"I don't CARE what color his shoes are!" she cried, entirely exasperated. "Describe him like you would describe a character."

I sighed dismally. "I've said all that I can think of. You'll have to wait until you meet him."

Soon she was begging, so I attempted to describe him more fully. At the end, I said, "And he seems excited to meet Yeshi, so I presume that he likes dogs." Her face lit up, and I was amused.

Then we joined the debate in the room about whether or not Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings is superior. (Lord of the Rings, ALL. THE. WAY.)

The next day, we worked more on memorizing Jeremiah 17:5-10, the passage for the week. (I can still recite it!) Verse six said that someone who does not trust in God is like "a shrub in the desert and will not see any good come." My friend Natalie thought this was a great insult, and "You're such a shrub!" caught on as one of the main jokes for the weekend.

In the afternoon, I went canoeing with Maddy. Later, I crowded onto a hammock with my sister, Christy and Nicole, and Hannah R. We had that pink sheet with us, and even though we tried to spread it out evenly, Nicole kept complaining that her sister was a "sheet hog." 

Once, when I was trying to readjust after getting more sheet, Hannah R. said, "Hey, get down! You're blocking our view!"

"View of what?" I asked, turning my head around. I saw two canoes out in the lake, engaged in a water fight. "Oh! That!" I said, moving downwards and watching eagerly.

Then one girl fell into the water. Her friend tried to help her back into the boat, but she leaned too far forward and fell in too. One of the fellows in the other canoe jumped into the water to help them. "How gallant!" my sister commented as he helped them flip their boat back over. Then the other boy jumped into the water too, and we joked that he was getting lonely and wanted to join all the cool kids.

Later, Maddy asked Nicole, "Do you remember the fun we had on your hammock before you got rid of it?"

Nicole gave a brief 'yes,' and I went into raptures about how we had played horse robbers, chased each other around the yard, ended up on the hammock, and accidentally flipped the whole thing over with our skirmishing.

"I remember that!" Maddy said.

"Do you remember the names of your imaginary horses?" I asked.

"No."

"They were Macholly Baby and Neon Blue Eyes. You had two horses, because you couldn't decide which name to use."

She cringed. "I was young and foolish."

We reminisced a while longer, and when Maddy forgot a childhood friend's name, she sighed and confessed, "I have a memory the size of a goldfish's." We proceeded to imagine and dramatize what this would be like in real life.

Later, we played four square on the portico, and to my great surprise, much of the youth group came over and joined us. Our youth pastor, Zach, was highly enthusiastic and kept praising people who caught themselves making an illegal move and willingly went out. He'd say, "That's the integrity of the game!" and "That's just good, clean four square!"

Once, when I was in line, I overheard a girl call a boy something Spanish. He asked her what she had called him, and she simpered. "It's 'beautiful boy' in Spanish." He responded, "I think I can handle that." I smirked horribly and anticipated using this in a story.

Later that night, after worship, I sat on a hammock in the dusk to work on my Scripture memory, and when I was done, I wrote a description in a notebook about what my surroundings looked like and what I was feeling. I'll never forget this, because it was one of the first times I didn't hate something I'd written and remained proud of it after rereading.

Even though this youth retreat was less remarkable than the previous, it provided me with great experiences and wonderful memories. Since I tended to feel left out at youth group and disliked lots of people, it's easy to view those years negatively, but my journals remind me what good times I had and what lovely memories I made with people I care about. I'm so grateful for these life experiences, and for the thorough journal records which enable me to remember them.

P.S. Miss Dori and Jeremiah got married the next year, and now have three kids.