On Saturday, we went to Camp. Camp is not only the place where I learned how to be a leader but it was the place that connected me to God in a way that no other place has ever matched. It was the place that lead me down the road to become a religion teacher. It was so wonderful to share this place with Eliot and Lydia. I hope that someday she will grow up and go to camp. And maybe just maybe become a summer camp counselor someday (which I think is the secret hope of most ex-camp counselors.) Shortly upon arrival, Lydia poop all over herself, though I assume this is not an indication of her feelings towards camp. November is a perfect weekend for Leesburg. The sun was out but the air was crisp, perfect for a detailed campus tour. It was a short visit but no matter how short camp always seems to restore the soul.
After camp, we went to eat dinner with Eliot's grandpa and his lady friend, Evelyn. They are absolutely adorable. My nervousness of having to breastfeed in public vanished with the encouraging words of Evelyn mother of five with the youngest being 44 years old. When we arrived I tried to wake Lydia up from a sound sleep to nurse her before we went to dinner. There was no waking her. I shared with Evelyn that I was a little nervous about having to nurse in public. She was immediately encouraging saying that people would just have to understand that I was a mother feeding her baby and that was perfectly normal. We arrived at the tiny cramped but delicious Italian restaurant and minutes after the salad Lydia stirred. The quarters were so cramped I opted to feed her in the car which went fine. Perhaps ending up in the jeep seems as if I didn't quite conquer my fear, I did! The words of an 81 year old woman were so accepting and profound that it made everything better. I feel like I could breastfeed in the street; I suppose I did! (We have pictures of them with Lydia which are super cute, but I have to download them from my camera.)
Eliot and I seem to manage going to church about once a month. He works two weekends a month and I am still in the process of figuring out how to get out the door with a baby in a timely manner. As I sat in church yesterday I wondered, why do we pray with our eyes closed? I imagine it has to do with reverence. We are humbled by the divine therefore we physically bow our heads and close our eyes but doesn't the type of relationship we hope to have with God call us to keep our eyes open? Isn't it the type of relationship in which we faithfully and truthfully connect as we would with a good friend? With a good friend you look her in the eye and are truthful about the skirt that looks bad or the stupid decision they just made, you don't avoid eye contact. "Keeping your eyes open" means keeping yourself aware, ready, prepared, in this case, for God. I want Lydia to keep her eyes open. To know God. This clearly is a long term goal since she peacefully slept the entire service.