Farewell, Summer

I’ve always loved the idea of summer more than summer itself.  When I think of summer, I think of possibilities.  Maybe I’ve read too many YA novels, where the season often represents an idyllic in-between time when anything is possible.  Maybe that’s why I love YA novels so much.  Everything in your life can change between May and September.

Benjamin Alire Sáenz describes it this way in his book Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe:

I loved and hated summers. Summers had a logic all their own and they always brought something out in me. Summer was supposed to be about freedom and youth and no school and possibilities and adventure and exploration. Summer was a book of hope. That’s why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe.”

In reality, summers are less glamorous.  They’re hot, humid, and don’t even get me started on the mosquitos!  Growing up on an apple orchard, summer meant long hours of tedious farm labor: crawling up and down ladders and digging up weeds in the dirt.  Even when I worked as a camp counselor and the season was everything it’s promised to be, I never got enough sleep, was perpetually dirty, and there were always campers to care for.

Every year, I go into the warm months with rose-tinted glasses.  I’m filled with so many ideas for all the people I will see and adventures we will have.  Every year, I reach the middle of August and realize all I did was sit at home, mow the lawn, and read a lot of books.

This summer, though, I wanted things to be different.

This summer, I wanted to believe.

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Hitting Pause at L’Abri

I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I arrived at L’Abri.  For the past six months, I’ve been going so hard that I didn’t even notice that I’ve been functioning on empty for weeks.  As I neared the end of my summer classes, when I thought about how I wanted to celebrate reaching the halfway point of my master’s degree, the only place I could think of was L’Abri.  I’m drawn to this place in times of weariness; when the world is heavy, frustrating, and confusing.  Here, in this little refuge overlooking the city of Rochester, I always find peace and rest.  This weekend was no exception.

It’s been months since I’ve done any kind of life-update on my blog, so let me catch you up to speed on what’s been happening in Amelia-land.  First, let me show you where I’m writing.  Imagine yourself with me at this table, a mug of tea in hand, enjoying the golden hour as I ramble on.

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