VBS: Faith, Fun AND FREEDOM...

I started this before yesterday's post, but I wasn't feelin' it. Hopefully it isn't as bad as it was yesterday...

Wow--it has been so long since I've been here--I am pretty sure that everyone went home--even the family members who felt obligated to read. I'll need to work on that, though I am not confident that I will be back for long. This summer is kicking my butt. What's that you say? It is only week number two (teehee...number TWO...I have problems!) and my children are in FULL DAY VBS this week? Yeah? Well...SO...

Speaking of VBS, I need to take a moment to give it the credit it deserves. For those of you who don't know (I'm not judging, but you are missing out--BIG TIME!), VBS is Vacation Bible School and it is the reason I am here now and not locked up somewhere scary. REALLY.

My son participated in VBS and I helped out with VBS when it was through our church in Virginia. He was about three I think when he first started. Maybe two...When my oldest daughter was old enough, she participated, too. We would rock out all year to:

"Here we are at the Great Bible Reef, with my bro-thers and sis-ters and the friendsthatImeet. Where Je-sus lovesallofus aswelove-eachother, it's the G-R-E-A-T. B-I-B-L-E. GREATBIBLEREEF..."

And the hard rock version of This Little Light of Mine (yes, there IS one...) until they were scratched up so badly ((the CDs--not my children--thought I should clarify--not so much because my children weren't scratched up, but because that would make less sense to the story I will eventually tell if I stop with all of these sidebars...) that I had no choice but to "retire" them (again--the CDs--NOT the children). LUCKILY, we sang them so frequently that a lot of the words are embedded into our brains. Our last year in Virginia were were invited to go to a SECOND VBS with Brayden's best buddy from our neighborhood. this VBS was even better for me as a mother because they FED my children lunch  before sending them home at 1:00. I'm not ashamed to admit that it was AWESOME and that my children were usually so wiped after VBS that they would immediately nap when we got home and my days were SOOOOO easy--even easier than the average day of being a stay at home mom (which is SO. VERY. EASY. According to those who do not do it. Just like TEACHING is so easy. For some who don't do it. And WAITING TABLES is so ea--okay--you get it).

So Virginia gave me my first taste of sweet freedom that VBS provided and I left there in November anxious to send my kids again. For the lessons of course. Unfortunately, VBS tends to be a summer thing--believe me--I checked. SO...after barely making it through the first seven months (and joining every MOMS/MOPS group within a fifty mile radius), VBS was in my cards again. We were invited to two and I found two others. That's right--don't judge. The way I saw it was that when I helped with VBS we loved having other people join us--it truly was the more the merrier (not the same holds true for staying at home with my children--just sayin'...) and we prided ourselves on having high numbers. I was actually helping them by sending my children. You're welcome.

The year after my VBS summer, I brought it up at my MOMS group and was not embarrassed to say that I would sign up for all of the VBSs in our area if I could find them all. People were a little wary at first and started looking around to see what other (more normal) mothers thought about my VBS theory. Why wouldn't I want to send my children to a camp where they will laugh, sing, create, exercise, and eat all day? Oh--and where they will learn a nice message to carry into our everyday lives? Why would I want to deprive them of that? More important than that--why would I want to deprive me  of that? I wouldn't.

This week's VBS has been fantastic! Brayden was home today with a belly ache, but he has truly enjoyed every other day and they are all wiped out from all of the fun they are having. I love hearing them sing their songs and try to apply the messages that they learn each day. I also love that I saw on my MOMS group's page that they now list all  of the VBS groups that meet in the valley (I KNOW--I lived in THE VALLEY--how cool is that?!)--just in case people want to bring their children. I like to think I had some influence there. I SAID I like to think it--it doesn't make it true.  I also like to think that ice cream helps in the depletion of fat. I'll let you know how that works out for me...

Six Degrees of Me

Well, this is day two of Smilegram Paper's Earth week giveaway; I hope you are all LOVING her page and entering to win. I LOVE when my friends win things. Even if I've never met them face-to-face (like my bloggy friends), I get excited just to hear that someone I like/and/or respect has won something. Probably unnaturally excited. It's the same feeling that I get when two people I know and like from two VERY different walks of life are friends on facebook. Example: A friend of mine from second grade is friends with a friend I met my first year of teaching in Charlotte, North Carolina. My third grade teacher was Mrs. Bergner (the woman DESPISED me) at Washington Hunt Elementary School in Lockport, NY (the part about Mrs. Bergner was unnecessary, but my self-assigned therapy is to talk about her hatred of me as much as possible so that I will eventually get over it. The woman was like four hundred when she taught me so I am pretty sure she is in a better place (though I am not 100% sure she is in a BETTER place. She WAS an incredibly mean woman. Just sayin'...) by now. Where was I? Oh--right--one friend from Lockport, NY and the other from Charlotte, NC.  How in the WORLD did these people meet (it wasn't through me)? What. A. Small. World.

My husband makes fun of me because I always ask people if they know OTHER people. He makes fun because it is rarely "Oh--my friend Spring Rain went to that school and would have graduated with you. Do you know her? She is over six feet tall and had pink hair at the time..." and is instead, "My cousin Joey lives in Italy--maybe you know him? He is about 6' tall and has dark hair and dark eyes...?" The thing that drives my husband so crazy is that the second scenario works more often than you would believe.

Two Februaries ago, my husband and I were at the airport bar (I love how that makes it sound like we are so worldly. I won't mention that it was when we went to the stupid Mayo Clinic. OOPS. I mentioned it. Oh well...) waiting for a connecting flight and had so much fun talking to this great couple (for my bigoted friends out there, take a breath--I don't want to send you reeling over the edge or anything...and I REFUSE to get into politics or religion today so please don't make me!) about their many travels. Both handsome gentlemen (NO NEGATIVE COMMENTS or you are not invited to play today...) own(ed) and work(ed) at a restaurant near Philly and were headed to their condo in Florida. They mentioned that they spent an entire summer in Scotland (which, I think you should know that I believe I am an expert in everything Scottish because my dear friend Kate and her husband (and the most gorgeous Godson you will EVER hope to see in your life--nope, not biased...just telling the truth...) lived on Isle of Sky for years. The funny thing is, I am no longer one hundred percent sure that it was even CALLED Isle of Skye. Was it Isle of Mann? No--his sister lives there. Hmmm...if only I had a way to research this right now...but that would take extra typing, and I HATE extra typing...What's that? Have I ever actually BEEN to Scotland? Umm...no...but knowing someone who lived there is enough, isn't it?!).

Being the self-proclaimed expert on Scotland, I offered (as I watched my husband roll his eyes--yes--I SAW you, Dave--I ALWAYS see you!), "Oh my goodness--my friends lived in Scotland--maybe you MET them!" This is when I saw these fine young gentlemen ALSO roll their eyes slightly (NOT as obviously) and exchange a look with each other. I'm sensing a theme here. I'm fairly certain that the look said, "Okay--this woman is LOOPY! Ever time we meet people, one or both of them end up being LOOPY..." At least, that is what OUR look would have said...

They tried to cover their tracks and to be as gentle as possible (they CLEARLY thought that I was certifiable. As do YOU I know...), mentioning (in a "Back away from the sharp objects" type of voice), how Scotland is quite a bit larger and more populated than some people think. I cowered, tail between my legs, while we discussed the restaurant business, medical issues and insurance issues at length. Somehow, the conversation (warily) came back to Scotland and my new friends mentioned buying jam from a croft (yep...I said "croft," because THAT is how Scottish-by-friendship I am!) in Glendale (Isle of Skye--I AM going with it because I am ALMOST certain that these names are correct...) while they were staying at a Bed and Breakfast there. I am about to LEAP out of my skin (or at the very least, my chair) because I am now almost POSITIVE that the people from whom they purchased their jam were my friends and I was quite thrilled by the fact that I could tell ALL THREE of these fine young gentlemen to SUCK IT. I don't know WHY I love that feeling so much (not the telling people to "suck it" feeling--the whole "I KNOW someone who drove on that same road..." feeling)--I just DO. I LOVE to feel like we are all connected and the more I speak to complete strangers like we have known each other for years, the  more I realize that we all indirectly HAVE known each other for years. It is especially comforting when speaking with someone fun and nice. Not-so-comforting when visiting with stupid or angry people, but I suppose every "family" has one. I'm pretty sure that the "one" in my family is me, but anyway...

It's like the six degrees of Kevin Bacon. I know that practically everyone on this planet is younger than me these days (yes, I know that statistics probably tell a different story, but if I weren't as lazy as I am I would give you the statistics of my life and show you that when I lived in Montana there were maybe three--okay--four moms that were my age in my MOMS and MOPS groups. I may have been the most emotionally immature one, but physically I was like a hundred and literally I was one of the oldest. I mean "literally" as in L-I-T-E-R-A-L-L-Y--not as in "possibly." I thought I should clarify. Again, there were MAYBE four of us even IN our thirties--it was seriously insane), but I like to hope that everyone reading this has at least HEARD of Kevin Bacon and if not Kevin Bacon, then at least the whole concept of the six degrees of separation. I COMPLETELY believe in this and feel that if we are going to uncover the six degrees, we need to communicate--loudly and frequently. Loudly so that people around you can possibly hear the names or places that you mention and perhaps jump in ("I couldn't help but overhear that you taught in Guam...") with their own information ("My sister taught in Guam for five years..."). Frequently because the more information you give people, the more likely they are going to find some connection. You know--if you throw enough against the wall, SOMETHING is bound to stick.

Why is this so important, you ask? I have absolutely no idea, but it FEELS important to me, so can that just be enough?