I haven’t tubed in like, three or four years. That changed for the better yesterday.
We had a Leadership Weekend, you see. That’s where they take all of our leader-y staff somewhere sweet and let us have tons of ridiculous fun, so that we can stay alive for the last three weeks of camp. Our destination this year was a rad house on Lake McQueeny, which was a hook-up from a veteran Crier Creek attendee. So we hopped into some camp vehicles (I drove a possessed van named Herbie) and made our way down for shennanigans. I am sure I did not spell that correctly.
As soon as I got on the tube, I knew things were going to be nuts. For one, our driver had a mischevious glint in his eye… even behind his Ray-Bans. Or maybe that was just the sun. Whatever.
Two, I felt my arms nearly rip out of their sockets as we took off. That meant we were going fast, I was pretty sure.
And true to worry, we began to jolt here, there, and everywhere as Mr. Williamson took us on a madcap ride ’round McQueeny. I wanted to give up right from the start (dude, my forearms HURT!), but this crazed voice inside me started coaxing me to hang on. So I listened. And then we jumped a huge wake and I got whiplash. And the voice cheered. And I realized that was weird.
I mean, I can be a real pansy sometimes. Normally, I don’t like to dig in and hang on when stuff is hard. But I’m glad I held on to the tube. I had ridiculous amounts of fun, and afterward my forearms throbbed like a champ (you could see VEINS!!!). Plus, I got to scream and giggle like a little girl while water crashed into my face and drool streamed from between clenched teeth. That doesn’t happen often.
It was a sweet way to end a doldrum-y type of a week. I’m comfortable at camp now: it’s not exciting, but it’s not lame either. It just IS. And I think “is” is blah. I want the spikes.
But here’s the thing: Oswald Chambers has been my mentor in a lot of ways this summer, and he was talking (I mean, writing) the other day about not trying to artificially generate those highs and lows. His encouragement was that the real growth and the real goodness just comes from pushing through the doldrums and the plain moments of life. Y’know, choosing to hang on instead of letting go and petering out because you don’t have the desire to do it.
So I’m figuring out how to hang on through the doldrums. And the crazy tube rides. Which probably means that for me, a lot of my walk should mean grabbing the Master’s hand and gripping it hard regardless of the circumstances.
Plus, I’ll get huge forearms. I think the ladies Carlos talks about would like that.