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August 2013 Newsletter
I Really Shouldn't Tell You This, But...
Well, now, it's August already--time to start saying, "How can it be August already?" and begin to think about your end-of-summer rituals.
Maybe you try to get in as many swims as possible before the pool closes; maybe you start buying school supplies or college dorm stuff; maybe you take one more little trip before the September schedule cranks up. Most people, I think, make some kind of attempt in August to savor the last days of summer.
Not all of these end-of-summer rituals are terribly pleasant, however. My mom's farm family used to take the remainder of the season's beans (wax, soy, kidney, whatever) and a few other random food items, throw them together into Ball jars, and call the concoction
The Last of the Garden. It looked (and tasted, at least to
my brother and me) like a biology experiment gone bad: creepy, unidentifiable leftovers preserved in a little sea of formaldehyde.
And to think, once they were canned and lined up on the shelves of our basement, we could enjoy the delights of The Last of the Garden all year long. At Christmas, even.
Which prompts me to issue a little invitation this month: What do you say we celebrate the end of summer in a new way--like, by having a little adventure?
I'm willing to bet that deep down in that "responsible adult" life of yours there's an adventurous heart beating, just waiting to run free and find the wherewithal to do something you've never done before...something that involves an element of risk...something that you really want to do.
I had an August kind of adventure once.
But I really shouldn't tell you about it.
Because if I told you about the time I was a nineteen-year-old church camp counselor for middle schoolers, and one day a bunch of us female counselors and the camp nurse thought it would be fun to sneak out of our cabins when the children were asleep in the night, and run down to the lake to go skinny dipping, you might think I am of dubious character.
And because if I told you that on one evening, we synchronized our watches, made sure all the kids were asleep, met down at the water's edge, hid our clothes in the woods, jumped into the water, swam to the lifeguard's chair, climbed in it, stood up and yelled, "Buddy check!" you might think I am unfit to watch anybody's children.
Because if I told you that, you might think I endorse shirking responsibilities to go participate in some irresponsible stunt, since one of our kids could have had a medical emergency, and had no one to take her to the camp nurse...which wouldn't have really done any good anyway, because the camp nurse was in the middle of the lake playing "Marco Polo."
But I want to tell you about this adventure, because I'm so glad I had the experience of complete freedom one night when the moon was full and the sky was loaded with stars.
And I want to tell you about this adventure because I'm so glad I took a little risk to grab an opportunity that would never come again, and celebrate that moment for all it was worth.
But really, I shouldn't.
So just let me remind you that your heart for adventure might manifest itself by way of a small, quiet quest--emotional, physical or spiritual--you can't get off your mind, or a big fun something you've always wanted to do.
Whatever it is, I invite you to listen to that heart...and expect something remarkable to come from your own end-of-summer adventure.
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