Thursday, March 27, 2014

Camp: why do I do it?


A lot of times, I am asked "why do I do it?" when I tell someone about my job at Camp Cherith... This question also comes when I tell them how much I get paid for the amount of work I do over the summer (which isn't much, but it's more compared to other camps). I love camp. Please PLEASE don't get me wrong. But every once in a while, I ask myself why I do it too. Like when I get a full time job offer, but have that feeling in the back of my mind saying "don't take it" because I'd have to miss the summer at camp. Or when I get home after a full summer at camp and all I want to do is sleep for a week....
 
Last night though, I got the clear answer. I was facilitating a camp night with my friend Alicia at a church outside of Buffalo with about 40 girls. And I realized that I loved spending time with them. Each of them. I loved the fact that they were there, at church on a school night instead of being God knows where else. I loved watching them react to when we bursted into song in the middle of telling them about the camp schedule.
 
Two summers ago, I was a Division Director (basically the counselor to the counselors) with two of my favorite people ever. 

My best friend and I shared an area that we affectionately call "the Cubby." The Cubby has basically enough space for two beds with a foot of floorspace between them (for some reason when we tell people about the Cubby, they can't understand why it was so magical).
Every night before we went to bed, we'd hold hands and say to each other "we have the best life" (right after we'd say "good-night" to our poster of Lil Wayne... but that's besides the point). Every morning when we'd wake up, at 6:30 in the morning (to Ke$ha's Dinosaur-- D-I-N-O-S-A-UR a dinosaur....) we'd say to each other "we have the worst life." That summer brought the three of us so many laughs, memories, joyous occasions, and tons of fun. But it also brought us a lot of heartache, many tears, and so very many desperate prayers and shouts to God.  We really did have the best and worst life that summer. We saw campers who had grown up coming to camp that had become hardened by the world. We saw them grapple with such important issues of faith, identity, love, and growing up. But we also were able to see and help them grow. We were able to cry with them, pray with them, love, encourage, and teach them. We could laugh, joke, and act like children with them.  We were able to meet them where they were at, let them know that it does get better, and that they're on the right path. We were able to show them the joy that is to know Jesus.
 
Sometimes, I think back on the tougher times of that summer and think "why did I do that? why did I allow myself to get that worn out and exhausted?" Or I think about my current life choices (driving to and from Buffalo in the middle of the week), and ask myself "what was I thinking when I agreed to this?" But last night I was reminded that it's so not about me. It's not about the staff at camp. It's about showing girls (and boys) that they don't have to be what society tells them they have to be. It's about reminding and teaching them that there is a God who created them, loves them, redeemed them, and can't wait to have a relationship with them. Hope in Jesus Christ, that's why I do it.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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