For the Love of Chickens

The two of you who read this blog (hi mom) know that I work at a camp and that my camp name is Gonzo.

I was dubbed Gonzo due to my love of Muppets and my bio on the camp website.

Half of what you read there is serious, the rest is just goofy. We had to fill out a short little survey to help the author of our bios. One of the questions was "Who is your hero?" I wrote down the apostle Peter and realized that I admired Gonzo for the same reason.

Now I didn't say I was like Peter or Gonzo, just that I admired them. The ability to get back up after you have been knocked down, to me is the definition of what it means to be human. However, I have learned an important lesson since beginning my work at camp. In order to get knocked down you have to be moving forward.

Now, before I get comments about how according to physics you can knock down a stationary object (hi ben). I am speaking metaphorically. In order to keep trying you have to have tried the first time. In order to learn from your mistakes you have to make mistakes. In order to heal stronger you have to have been broken or bruised.

I began once to write about my coworkers and the example they have been to me. I got side tracked and wrote about community instead. So let me say this. My coworkers seek out their limits, they push themselves, they are proud of each bruise and scrape.

Now, I am not ever going to be the guy who takes a water bottle, a tent, and a sleeping bag and heads off into the woods. I am perfectly happy with some corn dogs, mac and cheese, a comfy couch and a season or two of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. However, my time at camp has pushed me way beyond my boundries. I have gone exploring in caves and sea cave kayaking. I haven't done as much as those I went with, but that is okay. I found my limits, and had a blast doing it.

And like the kids on the zip line, pushing myself physically has allowed me to push myself in other areas as well.

Most likely more on that next time.

Serving Him alongside you, just from further away
 --Jesse "Gonzo" Letourneau

Okay, so this season Sesame Street turns 40, and their focus is nature. I work as a naturalist and have an unhealthy attachment to all things Muppet.

But the cool thing is I just learned that Abby (a newer character) has a class pet that is a gerbil-corn, which I wonder if it is related to a gunnie-corn.

If the second sentence doesn't make any sense, don't worry, there are only like three people who would understand it.

More than we see

I think we see in each other more than we ever see in ourselves.

A few months back I drew a picture for a friend of mine. It was a farewell present as he moved on from the camp where we (and I still do) worked to a new chapter in his life. I was quite happy with how it turned out, and I did put quite a bit of work into. Since then I have constantly been requested and encouraged to do more works of art.

Here is the thing, I can't draw very well. I can doodle. I am learning to play with colors to add shading and depth, but I can't just up and draw anything I want and have it look like I want it to. I certantly am not at a point where I could make any kind of living with my skills.

Yet those I work with see me as someone with a greater level of skill in drawing than I actually possess. This can be frustrating at times, as it is hard to convince people that I actually know my limits.

Yet limits are tricky things. Watch a kid cry before they jump off a zip line platform, or a sixth grader try and climb a rope ladder, slip, hit the ground, and immediately get back up and try again, and you quickly learn that limits are not set in stone. (Don't tell anyone, but I think I have learned more from the campers than I have taught to them.)

Nearly eleven months ago, I left Grace Community Church.
Grace and Community are two concepts that I have struggled to understand, struggled to know, struggled to live, and struggled to give my whole life to.

When I was in high school I thought I didn't "need" grace, and was convinced that I didn't deserve community or at least that no one would want me in their group. Then the Lord called me on a short term missions trip to England, and I learned just how wrong my theology was.

As I prepared to come to ARCG, my understanding of Grace was being renewed in my life. And the understanding of Community was being refreshed and expanded upon. I don't fully know what Community truly means. I know that it is essential for the life of the Christian. I know that Paul's analogy of the Church as a body is deadly accurate. I know that I am constantly grateful that I don't live isolated, that I don't struggle alone, I don't have victories by myself, that my burdens and trials are not mine alone to carry.

I am grateful that others see in me more than I see in myself.