Creative Writing for Non-Creative Writers

So with the first couple of weeks of class having passed, and being in the middle of first semester, I am already knee deep in homework, but as you can imagine, there are times (such as now) when I am able to pull away and do something for myself. This would be one of those things.

In Creative Writing class we are talking a lot about being true to ourselves, and how sometimes we have to let life interrupt our writing. Sometimes we have to put more life into our writing, such as having a character use the bathroom, or sneeze... I can send you the reflection essay if you want to read it to better understand what I am talking about. I got an A on it... so it must have made sense.

Mostly when we are discussing the idea of "self" in relation to our writing and the reader, we use the word "I," a lot and then in turn use the word, "you" to call someone out, or engage the reader. However, most of this is used in poetry... not twenty page long stories.

Which brings me to my thought process for writing this.

As a Creative Writing major, and someone who has known that they wanted to write since eighth grade I know personally, that many times writers stick to what they know. From there we will deviate, we will make up some events here and there, we will imagine the "what if's" and we have even had an assignment where we had to write a truth, and write about it until it becomes a lie. Then we had to do the same for a lie, write about it until it becomes a truth. As you may have concluded, we write the truth a lot, but we also know how to lie on paper. We know how to give good plots, and we know how to develop the characters we need. Whether we develop them over twenty pages or two sentences, we can do it.

That being said, I started to write a story back in February. It was for my Creative Writing: Fiction Workshop. Through a series of "no's" from my professor, she finally took me aside and said, "simply tell the story..." So I took out all of the big parts to it, and left it simple.

Where it left me was characters who would essentially mimic my friends, my team, and people who I considered family. I knew how I wanted the story to end, so I sent in the ending to my professor for my final, but I never posted part three to the blog.

Something wasn't right about the ending, and I wasn't going to post it until I was happy with it.

Upon re-reading I started re-writing, I started to add even more, and from the revision processes to finally ending the story in a satisfying manor I realized a couple of things.

1.) I was extremely attached to these characters - so much so that I knew I couldn't stick to what had happened in reality as the end, but I could not leave them all happy and cheerful at the end, because it would not have been realistic with their set of circumstances.

2.) I thought that these characters were the real people - It had seemed as though I had captured them so well that it was a reflection of the actual people, or maybe I had been so consumed in the story that it felt that way. It felt like if someone called me by the main characters name, I would answer. I started calling my friends by the wrong name, so essentially I felt like everything that happened to the main characters had always been, if it had not already happened in real life, could have happened between them in real life, had the human versions made different choices.

It wasn't until this morning when a conversation from last night really triggered this train of thought.

In the conversation last night, Mason referred to my story, and in that referred to the character as himself. Mistakingly thinking that him and the character were the same person, from there we continued our conversation, and a similar conversation had happened in the story, but in a completely different way.

So when I woke up this morning, I couldn't shake any of the conversation and how it related to the story, and the story to our lives, and our lives to the characters lives. Something wasn't right with the way that we were thinking about the characters and the story.

And here is where we were mistaken.

I will never be Callie, she is a little bit high strung, she tells people how she feels straight up, and from what it appears, her love language is completely different from mine. She responds to physical touch well, I don't, unless I'm completely comfortable with the person... if that's the case, bring it on. When she got frustrated with Daniel in the hallway at Nationals she blew off steam, she yelled at him, and at the same time talked herself in circles right in front of him. That didn't happen, when we repeated the real-life version of that conversation. There was no yelling, or talking myself in circles. We asked questions and gave honest, and calm, answers. Granted, we were in a less intense environment than the characters were at the time... but still, completely different reactions. Completely different people.

In those situations that Callie was put in, I would not have responded to the physical touch well, and when I was having that conversation last night, I nodded, and rationally listened to everything Mason had to say, trying to defend my stance on things before he interrupted.

Which leads me to my second conclusion.

Mason will never be Daniel, or vise versa. Mason said it himself, he's more hard headed, he knows who he is, and nothing will change that, whereas the character who is based off of him, Daniel is not. Daniel is hard headed, but not as much as Mason.

Daniel listened to Callie, and I'm not saying that Mason does not, but Daniel listened, and asked his questions without interrupting, whereas Mason was constantly interrupting. I'm not really sure if we ever finished a whole subject of our conversation... or in fact I don't think I ever got around to fully answering one of his questions because he would interrupt me with a thought or another question. Which is fine, but that is not who Daniel is in the story.

That and Daniel and Mason's love languages are completely different, and it's obvious there too.

Clearly the characters are based off of us, but they will never be us, and we will never be them. I am aware that it is hard to comprehend, and that is where as Creative Writing Majors, our homework and our jobs get difficult. It's not hard in the sense that we can't do it, it is hard in the sense that sometimes our writing is too real to us. Sometimes it gets confusing between what happened in our poem or in our story and what happened in real life.

And the biggest thing I learned is that the characters... sometimes they accidentally become their own people. Maybe a better version of ourselves, or an alternate version, but we are not them, and we will never be.

I think that is all I wanted to say...

So back to homework and bones....

Summer and Junior Year!

We are about twenty-one days into being back at school, and actually having a normal, somewhat free life. No traveling the world, no adventurous foods.

We are no longer standing on benches at breakfast lunch and dinner, stomping away to morning songs, tribal songs, the announcements song or our cabin songs. We aren't singing to the princess of Merri-Mac, or the Queen any longer. There are no evening actives besides homework, no nightly devotions or morning chapel, and I am no longer reading to any of my girls as soon as taps goes off. There is no reveille to wake us up in the morning, there is only the shock at the fact that I didn't set my alarm and I probably missed class (which didn't happen yet). 

We are no longer waking up in our beds, brushing our teeth with bottles of water, ordering breakfast to someone who doesn't speak our language. As I mentioned before, we are no longer trying adventurous foods, and we aren't worshiping in the bus on the way to the Malagasy camp. There is no street evangelism here... unless you want to end up in a really awkward or terrible situation. I am no longer seeing people come to christ everyday, nor am I spending more than an hour in worship with my ministry team, or listening to Cornell everyday. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm still growing. I have my own worship times here at the apartment now, getting into the word, practicing my guitar and worshiping are always on my "to-do" list... but it's nothing like camp, and it's nothing like Madagascar. 

To be honest... I just can't put this summer into words. 

It was magical and exhilarating. 

I got to fall in love - give or take - about sixty times this summer. I got to watch God work in my life, in my relationships with people. He even taught me a few things about what it means to truly love, and care for someone. He taught me about community and leadership, and what it meant to stand up for myself or for my girls. He taught me about time... how I don't have enough of it because at camp there was no time for things that people back home were enjoying on a daily basis, such as television. There was barely any time to make the videos everyone was demanding. There was no time to read, write, sleep, do your own laundry, have your free time, hang out with your girls, get into your own devotional, study your bible, and at the same time, take care of ALL twenty-two of their needs. There wasn't enough time.

So to be able to put this summer into words... 

Is physically impossible. 

You'll see stories that I'll post from creative writing class where I talk about Madagascar or Camp, you'll probably hear me burst out into the announcements song - as my teammates have noticed - if you say something as simple as "goodness gracious!" and I will continue with "great balls of fire, Hi! My name is Peter and I have come to read your meter. Dan Stan the man. Can you say Adobe? Control the pet population, have your pet spade or neutered..." you get the idea. 

The point is, you'll hear about it, you'll see it through videos and photos... and I know that seeing that stuff and hearing small stories will never be enough compared to maybe getting to read about it, but it's the best I can do besides saying "go on a missions trip yourself" or "go be a camp counselor for a summer..."

When it's all said and done. I am speechless by this summer because it was utterly indescribable.

However, on the way back from Madagascar, the last three hours of the plane ride, I spent swaying back and forth, trying not to think about the fact that we were moving. Eventually I got up, and threw up in the sink. To this day, we still don't know what was wrong with me, but as soon as the plane landed they let me into the bathroom, and on the drive home I sat in the front seat with my head down and on a pillow. 

As many people know when we were on our way back from Mananjary, I got the message that Grandpa might not make it through the day. My team had prayed at that point, and I knew Grandpa was going to pass, I just wanted him to stay alive long enough to say goodbye. The last time I had got to see him in person was in April. However, on the day of the lemur park and shopping, I came back to the text message that Grandpa had passed, and I didn't get to say goodbye. 

He knew that I was in Madagascar, and he knew what I was doing here. He also told my Dad that if I had to miss him, he would rather me miss him while serving the Lord. I made him proud. 

That side story was because I spent the day that we got back from Madagascar, sick on the couch. I wasn't supposed to sleep so that my body could get used to the time change, but I wasn't feeling well. So I fell asleep at four in the afternoon and woke up at four in the morning, the morning of the funeral.  

I knew that going from camp to Madagascar was going to be a challenge, but I had no clue that going from Madagascar and the transition back to school would be so challenging as well. We braved the funeral, and many people showed up. He was always scared that people wouldn't come to his funeral, but the room was packed, and Uncle Andy did a great job with the eulogy. What really got me was that Uncle Andy said he would always steal a soda from Gramps fridge, and then he held up one of Grandpa's soda's and said, "this is the last one I'll be able to steal from you pops..."

Right then a part of me longed for those Christmas Eve's at Grandma and Grandpa's old house, you know the blue one with the gravel driveway and Pookie in the backyard. I longed for the Easter egg hunts, and to go chive hunting, and those days where Grandma punished us by making us cut the grass with scissors, which I didn't really mind. I longed for the morning glories and the feel of that weird carpet in their living room, and the smell of Grandma and Grandpa's room in the back on the far right. Along with the bathroom that was themed like a lighthouse, and those cow towels that Grandma always had. How about that big tub that Grandpa always kept his used soda cans in? I missed that, dearly. 

The funeral was tough, especially still battling occasional dizziness along with extreme sadness, and telling myself that I was not allowed to regret going to camp, or Madagascar, or wishing that I had come to visit him more often. It was mentally and physically tough. 

Then to top it off, I didn't want to have to deal with moving in, and having Fajita fest the next day, so after getting myself a new phone, we packed up the car at Aunt Vicki's and then at ten o'clock at night, we moved me into my new apartment. 

That was a struggle. The funeral, feeling sick, sadness with feelings of regret, and being jet lagged.

ROUGH but it needed to be done, and I told myself, "you'll get a break." 

Boy was I wrong because just like that Fajita Fest came, and then so did classes, and then so did homework and gymnastics practice, and learning new freshman's names...

To sum up the last three weeks...

Today is the first day I have not been sore since the 10th of September, my body has been physically exhausted to the point where I walk to class and my legs threaten to give out on me. My professor asked if I was okay on Wednesday... No I am tired... 

I am reading three books right now. All for class, and soon we will start Frankenstein... my fourth novel at one time. Literature is taking up all my reading life. Along with other homework, we are writing everyday for Creative Writing. We have given ourselves a prompt for each day of the week, so on that day we write from that prompt, and on Sunday we take pieces from each of our free writes, and compose our piece. It's a lot. On top of that, each week we are handed two sheets, each having three or four prompts. He hopes that we try all of them out, but we are required to turn in one piece a week, along with a reflection of the reading. 

So basically my homework is reading and writing... and that is all I do. Although, in my Graphic Communications class, we did start learning about drafting fliers and billboards and stuff like that, so I did get to draw as my homework this morning. That was great.

So if you ask me how this semester is going I have a couple things to say. 

1.) It is COMPLETELY kicking my butt. I'm always doing homework... and I'm never getting enough sleep. 

2.) I miss camp. 

3.) I miss Madagascar. 

4.) Despite the homework, and my cravings for summer to return, I know I am supposed to be right here... and I know that because this whole stressfulness, tiredness, and craziness could be terrible, but so far it has been a blast. 

AKA: This year is going really well despite the homework. 

Sophomore Year Recap: Part Two

Continued...

Miami continued to fall apart, but it was one of those moments where it didn't feel like the meet was a total mess while you were in it. Maybe that is just because I typically roll with the punches 99% of the time, or maybe because it was a mess encased in a lot of laughs, hugs, crazy videos and just a big load of TEAM. Honestly, it didn't seem or feel like a total mess until it was over and I started to think about how everything actually planned out, but we will continue with after bars at Miami.

So I started bugging the personal trainer, because hey, she's there, might as well use her. She strapped ice to my bag, and if the saran wrap was better at staying in one spot, I would have competed beam with it strapped to my back. But when I tried to stick it down my leotard, it just got my whole backside wet and started to leak.

Right before beam, Chloe came over and prayed for my back, and honestly, there was no pain until I did my dismount. I am sure that I left a wet spot on the beam though from the ice. I went back over to the trainer, bugged her again and she took me off to the side, pulled my leotard down and massaged biofreeze into my lower back, and then took me back over to her table and wrapped more ice around my body. From there we waited for floor, which was being used by both the men and the women, so it was going to be a while.

As I laid on the floor, I recalled last year. I was in a similar position. I had just sprained both of my ankles, I wasn't about to scratch on floor, which was our last event and Rachel let me use her leg as a head rest, and Shannon had brought over a mat to raise my feet up on. Now I was lying on the same gym floor, in the same spot with my head resting on Rachel's leg again, but this time it was because of my back.

Many of my teammates said that the floor routine that I did at Miami was one of the best floor routines that they have ever seen me do. Which was awesome, but I was in a lot of pain at that point. I probably should not have done my routine. Once the meet was over, I went back to the trainer one last time, my pee filled leotard off, finally somewhat comfortable, Mason with me, and we wrapped our backs one last time with ice. Chloe said goodbye, as she asked Mason to keep an eye on me, and make sure that I am making good decisions. I smiled, I am glad that I have someone like her to keep me in line, and remind me who I am sometimes.

Chloe gave me a hug, and left, leaving her backpack sitting by the wall... So to sum it up, I used Katie's grips, Sammi's wrist pads, I got about six bags of ice strapped to my bag, I used my teammates body parts as pillows for the second year in a row, my leotard was soaked from ice and urine (Katie and I have become very open about this problem... sorry if it's an awkward position for you) two times biofreeze was rubbed on my back, and Deshawn ripped, I don't know how many times. HELLO NEW SKIN! I'm pretty sure Deshawn was crying in that video.

Afterwards we went to lunch, where I was squirming so much, and it even got to the point where I went "to the bathroom" and tried to call my Mom, crying, but we were in some underground pub so there was no service there. I just let myself cry at the pain in my back for a little bit before I went back to the table and reclaimed my seat next to Michaela. When we got back to the hotel, I made another effort to call my Mom, Katie slapped ice on my back as I cried into the phone while lying in bed. I felt bad for Shannon and Paige because they really didn't know what to do about me crying. Katie had been there through it before, but not anyone else in the room. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, my back just hurt, and when I bent over Katie exclaimed and told me to stay bending over as she looked at the bulge in my lower back. Paige looked at it, and said that it might be a bulging disc. At that I just lost it. I spend my whole life hoping, praying, trying not to be my parents, and I go off to college and of course, the thing that would stop my Dad from doing what he loved would be the same thing that would stop me from doing what I love. I tried to explain this to Shannon, who was trying to comfort me, and it took a little bit, but she finally understood. "you're not your Dad." She would tell me, and of course, I know that, but it felt so typical that this would happen at the time.

So we went swimming, I figured it would take the pressure off of my back for a while. I took off my new Miami shirt, and that was the last time I ever saw it. Despite my missing shirt, swimming was a lot of fun with the team. Danny and his shenanigans, took my phone and literally blew it up with pictures of random stuff, which actually killed my storage for the rest of the meet. Later that night we got ready for the party, but everyone decided that they wanted to walk to the party since it was "just down the street." I was all ready to go to the party until my back started hurting again and I was away from ice. I asked that we would drive but Katie said, "Becca's not going to be the D.D. again because she is drinking tonight! I want her to drink tonight" and that was that. I didn't recall ever saying that I would drink that night... Mason had peaced out shortly after swimming and the DIY hot tub, so my sober buddy was not really around, and I just laid in bed trying not to move for a while.

Katie, again, pushed drinking... and dating... especially since Danny was there and Danny and I are friends, and we are both single. That's when I turned around and I just flat out told her what I wanted out of life, "Someone that fits my standards okay, I'm not dating them unless they fit at least five from each category. I'm sorry."

"Okay, and who have you met that actually has a chance in the world at meeting five from each of those categories!?"I shook my head and laughed, she already knew the answer to that.

"Well that didn't work out,"

"And you think that I am not aware of that? I am perfectly aware of that, but it doesn't change the fact that I have those standards there, and I'm not shaking on this." I said to her, "Now, can we please go see if Danny wants to come to the party or not?"

Shortly after our walk to the party, I took a seat on the couch. I didn't want to be standing, walking or moving for that matter. Every time my body moved there was a new pain in my back. So I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up there was a circle of guys staring at me. Probably thinking I am passed out drunk... Nope. Just in pain.

Eventually I got a hold of Stephanie, my cousin who goes to Miami, and Mike walked with me to meet up with Steph. We got to catch up, she gave me advice about what is going on in my life, and she said, "my friends asked me about you. They are like, 'what does Becca do? Does she drink, does she party?' and I honestly couldn't answer that. I just looked at them and said, 'she does her.'" I laughed, it's true though. If I am in the mood to let loose for a couple of hours, I will do so, if I am in the mood to sit down and play cards at Danny's apartment (as he serves me salad and steak... :)) , I typically would rather do that. Once I was with Stephanie I actually started having fun.

The next morning, I awoke to a call from Chloe saying that she had left her backpack in the gym at Miami. So Katie and I went back over, and picked up the bag that I would later ship to Chloe. Remember when I said all that could go wrong did? Yeah... I believe that was the last of it. Until Shannon found Chloe's pants in her couch a couple of weeks later and we spent days trying to figure out whose pants they were. On the car ride home though... we stopped three times just for vomiting on the side of the road.

So that was MIAMI 2K15. A hot mess from start to finish.

I bet you are wondering what this has to do at all with what God has done this year? Hold on, because for a while, this is what it felt like. It felt like God wasn't anywhere, he wasn't doing anything, and this seems to happen when you are in college. Especially when the competition season starts because you are missing Sunday morning church for drives back with the team, there is excessive partying and you're in the third quarter of the year. This is where your school work seems like it is all for nothing, your team has bonded, you go home less and less, and you are more carefree despite the amounts of tests, and your friendships on top of that are really getting tested, because this is where you get sick of each other.

So I'm getting to what God was doing.

ITALY came, and it was the day that we were leaving. Danny dropped us off at the airport, we said our goodbyes, gave hugs and left for Venice. It was an amazing trip, but by the end of Venice, I was just tired of being lost all the time. Venice is very confusing, and I suggest a GPS. But it was beautiful, and a very interesting way of life. Katie and I arrived in Rome, and it was nice to actually be around someone who knew where they were going. The three of us explored, got some gelato and so on.

It had been discussed between Katie and I, that Tyler would not want her living with other men next year, even if it was for half the year, and even if she was sharing a room with me. However, nothing had really been decided... until one morning in Rome when I woke up to a message in our group page on Facebook saying that she was completely backing out.

She didn't even talk to me about her final decision. CRACK. She gave me nor any of our other roommates no warning. CRACK. There were so many things that were just eating away at our friendship, and we could feel it. It was like when you know that you are getting sick and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Or like those vines where they stop the video right before a big fall and they say, "It was at this moment Tommy knew, he messed up." We were the ones in the vine, and boy did we know that we were messing up. That's what it felt like our friendship was doing, and it sucked. It really sucked.

But Italy was GREAT! Not going to lie, I had a blast, and it was really cool because that is when God actually started to show me how big he really is and how small I am. There was this massive shrinking feeling over me, and when that happened, I feel like God just grabbed my attention and was like, "I GOT THIS!" and I was like, "Yeah, I know you do."

When Italy was over, one of my teammates and I came back with a stronger relationship, and I feel like we got past that awkward, "oh we are living together next year, even though you aren't my best friend yet," stage.

Then LUCAS GOT MARRIED! WHAT? Yeah that happened.

Dad and I joked about my little cousin, Alissa getting married before me, and I told him that was not allowed to happen. Especially under the circumstances I am in now. Alissa is my NINE year old cousin, who is surprisingly more awkward than myself.

After Italy, there was a week and then we were back in competition season with our home meet! Here is the video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUYnxcwjoQo

The set up for the gym took hours of our time the night before. We started about half way through practice Friday night and didn't get out of there until around twelve in the morning, but I always think that setting up a gym together is always a team building thing. Besides, it was fun to throw those mats over the balcony... The tear down though went pretty fast because then we had a lot of parents and other teams helping us, the hardest part was getting the big mats back into Gym C all the way from Bowen, but it got done.

The party that night was Barbie and Ken themed, and I had a lot of fun. It was a small party, with the team at some frat house that I don't remember the name of, but it was literally the frat boys, us, and Austin and his friend from GVSU. One thing about this year is that I started off hating being the DD because I am just getting directions from a ton of drunk people, but I have come to love it. I cannot tell you how much fun I had at that party. Everyone made it back to my apartment safely, and the walk to Jimmy Johns was cold but nice. The next morning I awoke to Will and Austin sleeping on my floor in my apartment. Oh. It was nice chatting with them though, and soon enough they left, and I got ready for church.

At this point, the talk of moving out had started, and it was really weird to start thinking about what I was going to do over the summer. In all honesty I didn't want the year to be over, I didn't want to move out, I didn't want to go home. So when I got an e-mail from a camp for the summer, one that was a Christian camp, and had gymnastics... I applied.

As you all know by now I ended up getting the job.

We had a couple more meets, fun ones, and then came the big Nationals... A lot happened at Nationals, and if you want a creative writing version of the story, just read:

http://becca-definesweet.blogspot.com/2015_05_01_archive.html

It will give you a good idea of some of what happened. Not as dramatic, I didn't have a melt down, but some similar events took place. Too much to explain. Indeed, we made more videos, we had fun... and you can once again watch it on youtube.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mo3d4fRKGlM

It's actually a pretty funny video if you ask me...

After Nationals, I had already accepted the job at Camp Merri-Mac as a camp counselor, and started packing for camp, and Madagascar. Katie moved out shortly after that, and so did Becca. Then I was left by myself.

That was pretty much Sophomore year.

A lot happened, but as Katie and I were looking back on it today at practice... she just nodded and said, "it was good."

It had its flaws, and there are some things that I would do differently, but I nodded as well. It was a VERY VERY good year.

Little Over Half Way

I found this draft of a post as I was going through my files. Here were some thoughts of how camp was going… half way through.

I am well aware that I have not posted anything for a while, and I mean, it has been a while. It actually seems like it’s been years since I have had the time to post anything, or the will to actually write about what has gone on at camp, but God has been working in many ways.

We have successfully made it through two whole sessions and are in the middle of our third and final. There are some of us that are counting down the days until we go home because we desperately miss our family. Sometimes it just feels like there was never any life outside of Merri-Mac and Timberlake because the days last long, but go by quickly, and it has just been an eventful summer.

At the end of the first session, I came back from the airport to no campers, girls that I had spent four weeks with, were suddenly gone and unless I came back for their CIT year, I would never see them again. I didn’t get to say goodbye. This hurt, but there was more that was going on as well.

As I was trying to tell my Mom everything that was going on with coming home to no campers, she told me about things going on at home. Knowing that I had to keep my grandmother in my prayers, along with my uncle and his wife. Then there were things that would be easier if I wasn’t at camp, Madagascar, my car getting fixed and the fact that I would get updates from my team who were always in the gym, practicing, and getting time to themselves and to have team bonding.

Quickly in many conversations with my Mom, I have learned a big lesson this summer. This lesson, I have always known, but never really experienced. God can have plans, but man has free will. Despite this… God still has a plan.

Because of that, I took time to myself on my days and night off. Mostly to calm down my panicking for Madagascar, and settle my emotions down, although with this I decided to start getting in the word more than I already was. I had already learned that it was CRUCIAL that we stay in the word as camp counselors, if not for our campers, and our own relationship with God, but just to keep our energy up. I started figuring out how important it was to pray with my girls, and reading to them every night when they go to bed, and once again praying for them. Prayer and getting into the word is the most important part of the job.

However, the further we get into summer, the more I just want to go home. I love camp, but I miss home. It’s simple, not complicated at all. The calls to my parents have been getting more frequent, and often times I try to avoid this by hanging out with my girls, who are amazing.

One thing that God taught me in this time by myself that I took to myself, is what God has called me into. The goal since I was in eighth grade, was always to write books and be published before I graduate, that has always been the dream. Along with that, this last school year, I developed a real love for editing videos and putting them together, so much so that I decided to turn that into my minor. That is the goal, on my own, and I hope that God uses that, but there has been something he has always been calling me to, since a very young age.

Ministry, and here we are, finally in it.

 

Despite the lack of sleep, how sore my legs are, how terrible the camp food is starting to taste because it’s the same thing over and over again. It is good, I can’t wait to continue with the next session, and then continue ministry in Madagascar.