recontinued.

After hiking back to camp, I was hungry for pancakes. And there was pancake batter on the table. And since the weather had been so cold, I wasn’t worried if it was spoiled. It was just crusty on the top.

I cooked it until it was no longer batter. Michelle said “gross.” Jason was jealous of my concoction, which made me feel better, like a chef instead of a garbage disposal. I enjoyed it. When I get home, I think I will make pancakes.

I am realizing now that I already wrote about this, back when I was in the van and I had just eaten them. But that writing was interrupted by a mountain biking excursion with Dr. Hensley, and I am finally writing again. The bike ride was good. More interesting than road biking, but less comfortable. I want to go over and try out the competitive track.

That night we made chili for supper. We scarfed it down before the sun went down and even cleaned it up. So we had a lot of time to sit around the fire, trying to stay warm as the weather fulfilled its frost warning. We went around the circle stating our favorite music groups, then the music of we grew up on, then our first concert, then our best concert. When we got to “What we would like Trinity to be in five years,” Josh said something about how whatever Calvin does, Trinity does five years later.

“That’s bullshit!” Professor Vander Weele promptly interjected. That caught us off guard and made us laugh. Oh Pascola, a mixture of seriousness and clowning. I think he was being serious right then.

That night was cold. I put on four pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, two t-shirts, and three jackets. A hood and a stocking cap attempted to keep the heat from escaping out the top. I snuggled as close to Renae as possible. The Renae side of me was okay, but the tent wall side was constricting in shivers. I knew I would not be able to sleep.

After hearing the van doors open and close, I decided to make the move as well. The van wasn’t much warmer and I slept fitfully until finally resting around 2;30 a.m. I was half awake the next morning when Chris came in and said “good morning beautiful!” I sat up and said “I’m not Josh. Josh is in the back.”

I checked my camera, which had been sleeping with me in the sleeping bag. Anything for its health. But alas, it was still sickly and seeing visions of things not real. Muy triste. Muy depresiado.

Apparently the weather had been in the 20’s. My internal thermometer was not surprised to hear that.

We had church in the van. A mixture of song, Bible reading and short meditations. There were only a few songs that all of us knew. Our faith does not overlap at the songs, and that may be just as well. It should come together at something more meaningful than that. Like what we believe and how our beliefs are so important that it comes out in our actions. But does it?

This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about. I’m trying to reconcile that my relatives (who can’t stand democrats, environmentalists, or smokers) and these friends of mine (some of them democrats, environmentalists, and/or smokers) are part of the same faith.

I feel the need for unity and the need for diversity. The need for rules and freedom, for protecting and fighting, for justice and mercy, and for love. I feel the need for acting on what we believe, whether that is by quitting smoking or loving smokers.

. . .

After lunch we went to SMOCA, the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art. A gallery of abstract art was fun and colorful. Then we viewed the Border Film Project, a bunch of snapshots taken by minutemen, coyotes, and illegal immigrants. Artistic and telling. Sad, confusing, and stirring. I wonder what needs to change to improve this situation, both for the U.S. and Mexico and countries further south.

One Mexican guy on the video was talking about why so many Mexicans are facing financial trouble and deciding to move to the states. He said he was making 45 dollars a week, but immigrants from Central America had come up and taken the job for 15 dollars a week. He felt that he needed to come to the states to support his family. I wonder what the Central Americans would say? I wonder if anyone has had to leave the states to find better paying work elsewhere because they couldn’t support their family because all the immigrants were taking the jobs for lower pay?

. . .

On the way back to camp we made guacamole. Yes, we made guacamole in the rental van. Then we ate it all and it was good. Then we made an expert trip to the grocery store.

Back at camp, I was trying to fill the water jug so we could make spaghetti (fettucini) and meatballs. One false move and I was splattered with water. As the sun pulled the mountains up to its chin, I knew this wetness thing was bad. I had to change. Even with that hurdle mounted my mind remained focused on staying warm.

We finally got firewood. Supper was served. So good. The fire burned, but it wasn’t hot enough for all of us and some went to warm in the van. When I thought about the night ahead of us, I felt scared.

Poppa Weelee came over and offered a controversial suggestion: hotel/motel.

Hot shower. Warm bed. Soft.

Giving in? Giving up? Succumbing to the wooing of civilization?

I didn’t see it that way, and I’m glad that we chose that option. I’ve seen what trying to be all tough and unneedy can do.