I feel like a can opener has been turned on inside of me

From D.W.: Rachel had been writing for a long time before making it public. I have boxes of hand-written journals and diaries going back to her elementary school days. So, when she first started writing things for the internet, they mostly read like public versions of private journals. That’s not unusual. That’s just a blog. Or, at least, that’s what a blog was in the early 200’s. And that’s how Long Valley Lane / Blue Plate Special started for Rachel.

I haven’t shared much of that early work of hers. That’s mostly because I’ve wanted this site to feel more universal with very intentional insights into specific topics. I’ve wanted readers to know how Rachel felt about a thing.

But it also occurs to me that there are a people who read this that didn’t actually know Rachel as a person or, at least, didn’t know her well, or for very long. And I feel sorry for you because you missed out on a great thing. I also realize that it’s nice for those of us that did know her well to have an opportunity to reconnect with Rachel as a person who lived a full life. Someone who changed over time. Who grew and was shaped by their circumstances.

So, I’m going to try to post more of these older journal entries. Many are simply, “here’s how my day went,” type writings, but even in those there are insights into the broader world. Things we can grasp and hold onto. Put in our pockets and let our fingertips brush whenever we reach inside.

This one is from 20 years ago. It’s about camp. Of course it is.

Long Valley Lane. July 7th. 2006

post card from the edge, vol 4

i don't know when i've had a worse time at the beach. it rained. i only got to go swimming three times, and it was cloudy and overcast, so my tan isn't what i wanted it to be, at the moment. however, since i get to be head lifeguard this whole freaking week, since we are understaffed and overcommitted, i will be able to make up for lost sun by pulling kayaks in and out of the river and making sure small children don't end at the bottom of the guad.

there are days here that seem like months. i can't remember being this homesick, even when i was a camper. my cousin jane used to go to a camp for special children, and when she would come home from a week away, she would run to her room, turn on the tv, radio, record player, and anything else she could get her hands on, and lay across her bed, just happy to be home. i would move heaven and earth to be able to go home for six hours right now, and just see my family and sit down at my table and talk to my momma. i don't even give a crap about sleeping in my own bed. and that's a stretch, because i'm kind of over sleeping in a twin bed, without my good sheets and feather pillow top.

i love my job. i love my job, every day. i get to be outside, i get to hang out with amazing people who are asking amazing questions about God and the universe and are learning to find good answers to those questions. i get to talk about how i feel, what i think, what i want out of life. i get to pray every day. i get to sing every day. i get to laugh and cry and think every day and be utterly unashamed about all of those things. for the first time in a long time i feel like i am really alive, and i am bursting with that feeling. sometimes, it's almost too much to hold inside, too much to keep to myself, and i wonder what took me so long to allow myself to feel this, to get out of the way, and just be. i feel like a can opener has been turned on inside of me, and everything i thought i could never feel or be is pouring out. and i thank God for that, even though sometimes it's intense and a little scary.

there have been days and situations lately that i know i am not big enough, or smart enough, or creative enough, or brave enough to handle. but i have. and i have no explanation other than God as to how those days and situations got handled. i am consistently caught off guard by what comes out of my mouth, by conversations i'm allowed to have, by decisions i have to make, because i know that in a very real sense, i'm definitely not the one doing the real work. i just feel open in a new way to letting God do the work that needs to be done through me. now, you can think i've gone off my rocker, flipped my lid, and take a bit of a crazy cracker. but there's no other way i can explain the things that have been happening over the summer. i know i'm not this smart, or this good. i mean, i'm freaking smart, and i am good, but this is far above and beyond what i am capable of doing. and i love knowing that and living into that. getting out of the way is the hardest thing i have to do every day. because the minute i start doing this job, and stop letting God do it through me, things will go to hell awfully fast. and i don't want that, because too many good things will be lost, not the least of which is this time i get to spend with God, every day, doing this thing.

i am tired. i will be tired tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably the day after that, too. and the easy days are harder than i imagined the hardest days would be. and that's ok. this yoke is much easier than i imagined. the burden is light in a way i never imagined, because i can rest in the knowledge that, in a very real sense, i am just along for the ride, just the jar that holds the water.

it's midnight, and i'm probably not making a lot of sense. so many things seem to bubble up before i go to sleep. there are letters to write, phone calls that will have to wait for tomorrow, evaluations i need to finish, chapters in the book to edit and email out, and work emails i need to return. there are questions about my future that i'm not ready to ask, or answer, and that's ok. i can feel the changes coming, the way you can feel a storm about to blow in, when the air feels and smells heavy with rain, somewhere between a caress and a punch, somewhere between excitement and anxiety. all things shall be well. life sits on a spiral. blessed be.

mil besos--rmg