I have left the mountain to get some ocean air for a little while. I miss you, dear South, but for now, there's nothing like munchkin-hugs and yet also the Sunday morning push to get everyone in the car and to church on time-- there's something so ...humanly ironic about the impatience and resistance and a twinge of anger from dad trying to shuffle all kids at once into the minivan for church.
and yet it makes me feel so alive to be home for a little while.
Georgia, I'll be coming home to you soon-- i have not forgotten your mountainous shelter, brimming with blackberries and pining for sun.
It's been good working with these little critters this week; such an impressionable age they are: moldable like.. playdough, like... jello, or cookie dough, or any kind of dough. So far in working with Summit I've gotten to make people speak with only animal noises (and thus they have taught me what sounds a hippo makes, as well as a kookaburra, koala, wallabys and ant-eaters). I have also confused their langauges so they could complete a task using the second language they learned in high school. I called that element "the Islands of Babel"... It's been neat facilitating the groups that really get it-- to learn to work as a team and listen to each other even if they have no idea what language or animal they're hearing. Some of the kiddos take away good life applications-- trust mostly. Like the proud kid who suddenly gets blindfolded, now needing someone's help: or the quiet kid-- learning to ask for help or to offer it. It's a fun little job I have this summer; and wow, this fog is really convincing when we use the "Rain Forest" scenarios on some elements.