WaFaRa College Work Week 2015

A lot of you may remember that last summer I went to Washington Family Ranch in Antelope, OR to help provide childcare to teen moms while they were at the week long YoungLives camp. This past weekend, I went back to WaFaRa, only this time it was for the college work week. Alongside of 300+ college aged people, I helped to prepare the camp for all the campers who will be coming in just a few short months. 

Last year during the work week, I opted for helping with the actual ranch side of the camp, and I loved it so much that this year not only did I sign back up for the same job, but I conjured my friend to sign up with me. 

The thing I love about the ranching side is that you get to do manual labor (which is something my body desperately needed after sitting in classes all winter) plus you get to see views like this.

 Our group took out fences (above) on the first and last days, and on the middle day we cleared brush (below). 

 Some of the brush we took down to the creek, but a lot of it we piled into burn piles. 

 And we lit a couple of the piles on fire, which was pretty stinkin awesome. 

 This lovely lady beside me is my un-officially adopted/honorary big sister. Her name is Miranda, and she is one of my most favorite people ever. She encourages me to pursue Jesus relentlessly, and to be outside in the sunshine (or rain) whenever possible. Pretty much, I just love her a lot and I am super duper uper glad that she came on the trip with me.

 It's a Washington Family Ranch style bonfire. 

 The third work day was sunny, windy, and absolutely perfect. 

 Le sigh. 

 I literally could have sat there all day long and been perfectly and absolutely happy and content.

 After we had gotten all our work done, the bosses took us down to the cow barn on the opposite side of camp.

 Roping lessons + calf petting + puppy lovin + slobbery horses = best way to end a great weekend.

 This gal cracked me up. She was definitely not happy when the other horses were getting loved on, and was very verbal about her disgust. 

 Our crew, minus our work crew bosses (who were both super awesome and incredibly patient with all of us).

Of everyone that I met, this was my hardest goodbye. (No joke.) There is just something about being around horses and out in God's creation that makes me feel like a whole person. (Also, it didn't hurt that palominos are pretty much my favorite in the history of ever.)

It was a good weekend, and I am so thankful that I was able to go. Now back to real life and work and school and graduation looming closer by the second! 

a forever type of love

There are so many types of love in this world. There is the middle-school girl type of love, where pink glitter is the best thing since sliced bread. Then there is the high-school girl type of love, where the quarter-back on the football team is your soulmate. Then there is the college girl type of love, where coffee is your true love and sleeping is better than chocolate. But then, somewhere down the line, hopefully there is the type forever of love where you meet and marry a person who will be your best friend for life, and will stand by you no matter what. 

Alongside the types of love that play a role in your life, there are some moments in life that change you forever. A few months ago, I experienced one of those moments. It was the moment I stood at the back of the funeral home and watched as my Grandma laid her hand on the coffin, looked into my Grandpa’s face one last time, and then slowly turned and walked away. 

It was a heartbreaking moment. But it would have been even more painful if we hadn’t known that Grandpa was with Jesus right then. And it would have been even more difficult if we wouldn’t have had all the amazing memories from Grandpa’s time on this earth. 

The love between my grandparents was a thing of beauty. I really don't know how else to describe it. They fit each other perfectly. They cried together and laughed together, and supported each other throughout everything. Their marriage was a living example of “for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness in health, to love, honor, and cherish, until death us do part.” 

It was only three days after celebrating their 58th wedding anniversary that Grandpa went home to be with the Lord. The path leading to that day was long and painful for all of us, but especially for Grandma. The furthest away I have ever lived from my grandparents is two miles. But for the last 8 years, I have lived about 50 yards from their house. Living that close, I have been able to witness first hand the way Grandma cared for and loved Grandpa through the broken hip, the bouts with pneumonia, the terrifyingly low sodium levels, and the moments when he didn’t remember who we were.

This spring, on the way home from the ER after one of the really hard days, Grandma said something that I will never forget. She was telling me about how, when she was a little girl and her family moved out from Ohio, they didn't plan to stay in this area but ended up visiting some people and then just never left. I told her that I was glad they had decided to settle here. She replied, "Me too. Otherwise I never would have met Grandpa.”

The kind of love my grandparents shared is the real deal. It’s not the type of love that gets a college girl out of bed simply because she wants coffee. It’s the forever type of love where, even on the very worst of days, you don’t turn your back on the person you’ve pledged your life to. Watching this love play out in my grandparents lives has been an amazing example to me, but so has watching the affect my Grandpa’s death has had on my Grandma. The burden of missing him is made light by the knowledge that she will see him again in heaven someday soon, because Jesus came and died on a cross in a moment that changed us all, forever. And that right there, is the best type of love. 

Real Talk: College

Dear Professor,

You may not know me. I am the girl who slips into the back corner just as class is starting, and bolts for the door as soon as you said, “see you on Friday”. 

Or, you may know me by name and yell “hello” from across the amphitheater during the cold hours of the morning as I rush to my 8am class.  

Either way, I want you to know that you have made a difference. A huge difference. It is not in vain; those late nights and hair pulling as you try to figure out a way to convey your topic to me and my classmates. You are changing lives and helping to build up the next generation of leaders, parents, and more importantly, Christians. 

I sat in your classroom today, and I realized that I am going to be sad to walk across the stage in May. Not sad to be done with the deadlines and papers and hundreds of pages of reading, but sad to be done learning from you. 

You have taught me that math doesn’t have to be synonyms with tears and anger and pain. You have taught me that history isn’t boring and stale, but rather full of life and humor and intriguing facts. You have taught me how to ask questions about the Bible and dig deeper and deeper to find the answers. You have taught me to not shy away from hard questions and hard answers. You have taught me that poetry isn’t just people throwing various misspelled words together, but rather the most beautiful of songs. You have taught me how to tackle a ten page research paper in a way that doesn’t require no sleep and an ulcer from too much caffeine. 

Whether you couldn’t pick me out of a line-up, or I say hello to you on a regular basis, I want to thank you. Thank you for changing the way I view life. Thank you for having an infectious passion for the subject you are teaching. Thank you for making the leaving of this place a bittersweet (and sometimes downright sad) event. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for doing what you do. 

Sincerely,

The girl at the back of your classroom

the desire to belong

In honor of the first day of classes in 2015, here is an article that I wrote a few years ago and then revised for a class last semester. 

_________________________________________

I walked into the room that first day and looked around. So many new faces. It was overwhelming. I found a little corner and just sat. Observing. Wondering what on earth I was doing there.

I wanted to belong.

I wanted to be part of the inside joke that the group two rows in front of me were laughing about. I wanted to know who the person was that the girls to my left were discussing. I wanted someone to walk into the room and yell out my name.

But no one knew me.

No one rushed over to sit by me. As I opened my book, and then proceeded to half-fake my way through the day, I kept thinking about belonging. It was something I was desperate for. Something that I had never really given much thought to up until then. At least, not at school.

Because my school consisted of me, my two brothers, and my sister. And when I left the desk in my room that I had done my school on for 12 years and walked into another room filled with desks and strange faces and new-ness, I experienced culture shock. I spent the next few months adjusting to the new culture. The one where your school desk wasn't 3 feet away from your bed. The one where your mom wasn't the Principal.

And the thought of belonging kept coming back to me. Over, and over. And slowly I started to notice something. All of the people in that room were just like me. They wanted to belong.

That girl sitting in the front row? She was picked on in high school for having braces, while all the other girls had straight, white teeth. The guy sitting over by the window? He doesn’t have a coordinated bone in his body, and so never fit in with the athletes at school. The girl who slips in right as class is starting and slips out just as it finishes? She’s a missionary’s kid from Uganda who has no idea how to relate to these people who are complaining because their wifi is slow. 

The thing is, we all belong. We may not belong to a clique, or to a certain athletic team, and we may feel like we really don’t belong to any certain country. But we belong to something bigger and better than all the sororities and baseball teams in the world. We belong to the Body of Christ. 

The One who created the universe has got your back, and you belong to Him. 1 John 4:4 says, “But you belong to God, my dear children. You have already won a victory over those people, because the Spirit who lives in you is greater than the spirit who lives in the world.” 

Not only does Jesus have our back, but He chose us. 1 Peter 2:9 “But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light.”

He chose you. He wants you. You belong to Him. And that, my friends, is worth more than belonging to all the groups in all the world. 

I'm going back.

I open up the countdown app on my iPad and am greeted with a picture of the John Day river winding lazily through hills and fields. The numbers and words which are below said picture read: "127,163 mins until I get to go back to WaFaRa!!!" (And yes, I know. Having it count down the minutes may be a tiny bit excessive.) 89 days from today I will be making my way to the YoungLife camp in Antelope, OR. to provide childcare at a camp for teenage moms. 

This adventure started five weeks ago when I crammed some clothes and a tooth brush into my black duffel bag and set out for this place called Washington Family Ranch. I had no idea what I was in for, but I figured it was a good way to spend part of my Spring Break doing some manual labor with other college students in Central Oregon. However, I wasn't prepared for the way this camp would change my life. When I got there I was shocked at the sheer beauty of the place. When I hear the word “camp”, I think of dirty wooden floors under creaking bunks where you are trying to get settled on a mattress that probably had at least one kid throw up on it in the past thirty years. However this place was more like I would envision a retreat rather than a camp. During the time I was there, I realized how much I value both deep conversations with other people, and time alone out in God's creation. In between the valleys and mountain tops which is Central Oregon, I felt God restoring my soul and healing me. (Side note: my new favorite verse is Psalm 23:3a) Naturally, I couldn't wait to go back and started looking for opportunities to make that 196 mile trek once again. 

As I looked at WaFaRa's website, I found this thing called "YoungLives" which said something about childcare. I immediately thought, "oh hey! There is something that I could do!" (If you know me, you will know that I have gone overseas not once, but twice to provide childcare at missionary conferences and I have absolutely loved it.) As I read more of the details, I knew that this was something I wanted to be a part of. Each summer YoungLife puts on a special week long camp exclusively for teen moms and their babies, thus giving them a chance to relax and be kids again without neglecting their duties as mothers. Both women and men volunteer to go cuddle and play games with the children (I know, big sacrifice!) while their moms attend the different activities. I put in my application and just four days later received the email saying I had been accepted. 

This year's camp is July 25-31, and I need to raise $500 which pays for my housing/food and also lowers the cost for these girls who may not be able to afford it otherwise. Please keep me in your prayers as I prepare for this adventure, and also be praying for the girls who will be at this camp. I am so excited about the opportunity to be a part of this amazing ministry, and to then share it with all of you through words and pictures! 

For more information, click here or contact me at rebekahstraw@corban.edu 

sometimes I forget

I forget things all the time. 

I forget that I live in one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. 

I forget that my dog is the coolest creature ever. 

I forget how much being outside in the woods recharges my soul. 

I forget that sometimes I can just snap pictures and not worry about being all artsy or whatever.

I forget to stop and take a breath.

I forget that I have a pretty amazingly awesome life.

I forget that I am incredibly blessed.

(Photo credit: my awesome mom)

"And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful." Colossians 3:15

just words

It may come as no shock to you, but I love pictures.

To me, pictures tell a story that words could never even start to tell. I talked about this in a post awhile back. About the fact that I tell stories with pictures, not words. Yes, I do enjoy writing. I like to tell stories with words about my grandparents' strong love or how awesome my dad is (just turned in a college paper on that subject, no joke) or what the Lord has been teaching me lately.

But to me, a story without pictures is not much of a story at all.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I prefer little kids picture books over adult books with just words. Or that blog posts with just words normally make me exit the page before I have even finished the first two paragraphs.

I have found that recently I have a hard time thinking in words. (If that doesn't make sense, have no fear. If it does, you're my kind of person.) Even as I sit here, typing these words, I am struggling to find the right ones. But I know I need to force myself to not fall back on my pictures as my only means of communication. Just as I push myself in photography to learn new things and take better pictures, I need to push myself to communicate better with words.

So this is me pushing myself. This is me applauding you for actually reading the whole thing.

This is me using just words.

true love

Once upon a time, two people fell in love and got married. 

They had four kids and raised them near on small town on hard work and love. 

They had good times, and they had bad times. 

They were role models for many, many people and were a blessing to everyone they came in contact with. 

And they loved Jesus with all of their hearts. 

Today they celebrated 57 years of marriage. One day after the man came home from a 6 week stint at a nursing home. The love I saw displayed during that time is what it's all about. 

Life's a long and winding ride

Better have the right one by your side

Happiness don't drag it's feet

And times moves faster than you think

(Happy Anniversary Grandpa & Grandma. 

I love you guys and am so thankful for you and the impact you have had on my life.)