My limited supplies and pictures were already packed from the last night of scrapbooking at Ben Franklin several months ago. Truth be told, I probably would never get any work on my books done anymore if it weren't for my sister. In days past, I was an avid scrapbooker and have Samuel and Hunter's baby books complete to their first year, in addition to multiple family albums. Benjamin's book is about half-way complete, Isabelle's book had a few pages that I did while at Ben Franklin's, and poor Cecelia's book is completely absent of pictures. Period.
The girls are getting to an age where they'd love to pour over the concrete memories of their babyhood, and seeing the look on their faces when I tell them I haven't started their books yet is enough to prompt me into action. The time came after school on Friday for the kids to leave with their weekend caregivers and for me to take off.
It would take and hour to get there, but I welcomed the solitude. Stopping at a drive-up espresso shop, I ordered a pumpkin chai latte. Coffee in hand, I cranked up a Gaelic Storm song and sang along as the sky darkened with the inevitable sinking of the hidden sun. Humility aside, I am an amazingly good singer when (and only when) I am by myself and the music is really loud.
The cabin was located at Buck Creek, the same place where we camped this summer. However, a little further up the dirt road, were several hidden buildings that I had never seen before. It was dark by the time I arrived and the rain was coming down in a fury. The ground looked as though it were boiling the water that had just fallen from the sky. I parked near other cars and sat in the van for a few minutes. There was nobody in site and I wasn't exactly sure where to go. In fact, I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to get out of the warmth and shelter of my van. After coming to terms with the fact that I was going to get wet, I got out, left my belongings in the van, and went searching for the others.
What I found inside was a comfort to my soul. Warmth, familiar faces, and a dinner of pasta and garlic bread just about to be served. (This was perfect since it was Friday and, as Catholics, Tina and I wouldn't be eating meat) The atmosphere was upbeat and exciting. Everyone was happy to be away from the doldrums of daily affairs; no dishes, no cooking, no attending to the needs of others. For once there were others, attending to our needs. It was refreshing.
After dinner, I unpacked my van, assisted by my sister and an incredibly caring and generous friend (one of the women who made it possible for me to attend the weekend, free of charge), we carried my suitcase and bedding into the lodge that seven of us would be sharing for the next couple of days. Then they helped me get my scrapbooking supplies into the main building. The scrapbooking room was unlike anything I had ever seen before. A large room with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the forest, was crowded with numerous tables where papers, scissors, ribbons, stickers, letter and shape cutting machines, laptops and printers, and all sorts of tools I had never used before were spread out among treasured pictures, with the intention of capturing memories in a glorified format.
I felt welcomed by all, and was excited to greet old friend and meet new ones. My sister already had a table prepared for me directly across from her and right next to the fire place. Unloading my supplies, I got to work. It was about 7 pm. Around 2 am, we called it a night.
Morning came early, but with a hot breakfast being served at 8:30 we were enticed to get up and get ready. The only problem was we had one bathroom to share with seven women. I'll just say...it was a hat day for me.....
The highlight of the day for me was when we took a break from scrapbooking and walked down to a nearby field to go zip-lining. This has been on my bucket list since I first heard about it! Yes, it was still raining, but with this opportunity getting soaked wasn't an issue... hair dries, and clothes can be changed. We harnessed up, and put on our helmets. It was cold and wet but nobody seemed to mind. Without hesitation, I climbed the stairs that had been carved out of the hillside. On top of the hill was a pole, it looked much like the telephone poles near our house except it had spikes sticking out on both sides. We had to use these to get up the pole to the platform that we would be jumping off. So far, no fear.
Up the pole, I went. It was wet, muddy from the climbers before me, but still no fear. I stood on the platform on top of the pole and my heart began racing. I wasn't sure if it was from the climb or from adrenaline setting in. I came to realize it was adrenaline, mixed with something just short of uncertainty. Uncertainty over whether or not I could make the leap of faith. When you jumped, it was in a downward direction something similar to free falling until the wire caught your weight and carried you off. I've gone skydiving twice before, but both times it was tandem with the instructor. I didn't have a moment to think whether or not to jump, it was; One...Two...Three...and we were out of the plane falling with nothing connecting us to the earth.
With this, it had to be my decision. I even asked the man who was on the platform with me if he would push me, but I guess that is against regulations. It was up to me to make the jump. My own stubborn temperament and the thought, "If that lady can do it, so can I" was, in the end, what got me off of the platform. Once I took the leap of faith, and I realized that I was flying without the fear of dying, I thoroughly enjoyed speeding through the air as the rain poured down. I let go of the rope with my hands and leaned back actually pretending I was a character from Peter Pan who, with the help of Pixy Dust and Happy Thoughts, was able to fly....who says kids get all the the fun?!
Something about flying in the rain absolutely wore me out. When we got back to the scrapbooking hall, I could barely keep my eyes open. Trying to make a page that was worthwhile was fruitless as I kept zoning out and finally I realized my creative juices were all dried up. I decided to go back to my bed and take a nap.....oh wonderful sleep! My sister, Tina, followed me and we slept for a good hour. Refreshed and rejuvenated, we headed back to the other building for another night of scrapbooking.
Friday, at school, I was having a difficult time with Isabelle. Being her mother and teacher has proven to be trying, both for her and I. While we both love it, we both also find it difficult to separate the relationship of mother/daughter from teacher/student. By the time the end of the school-day came, I wanted to throw my hands up and shout a giant "Hallelujah! See ya Sunday!" But while scrapbooking her baby book, I looked over pictures of her past five years. They brought me back to moments of joy, tenderness, and laughter and reminded me of why I love being her mother. That is where the real worth of creating scrapbook lies, it helps you to treasure the ones you love by remembering the loving moments.
I am grateful to Maribelle who made all the arrangements for me to come, to my sister for prompting me to complete my children's baby books, to Trina for the fleece shirts she brought for each of us, to those who volunteered to take care of my children, and to the crew of Berachah Ministries who made it all special.
Happy Days to all from the Scrappy Happer:
Gina.
On a completely unrelated side note: this creepy, nasty giant was in a pan I pulled out of my cupboard as I was going to start dinner. I just about died....really. Luckily, Samuel has come into manhood and saved the day without a blink of the eye. (he sure doesn't take after his dad in this regards...oops, did I just type that?)
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