And another summer of camp has come to an end. And this seems to be the only time I ever seem to update this silly blog. I should be more consistent, but I am a first class procrastinator so that doesn't always work so well. This turns into one great way to empty out all of the thoughts trying to take position for importance in my head and be able to organize them into something that seems somewhat tangible. So here we go. I apologize in advance if it seems scattered. It probably will be.
Let's start with camp. Camp was good. It was a good summer. As always, the last day of camp is always a sticky mess of feels and awkward hugs and strange "this isn't goodbye, it's see you later's" and selfies. Lots of selfies. And eating. They always feed us before they kick us out. And the thought that no one wants to have starts to creep slowly into everyone's mind as we leave. This may realistically be the last time we see any of these people. It's humbling. And maddening. And sad. You have seven weeks to really bond with people, some more than others, and then all of a sudden it is just.....done. A quick hug, a quick goodbye, and a quick exit. And then silence. Deafening silence where happy chatter used to be. An empty house where a full Spruce used to be. Time alone where crazy camp schedules used to be. A mundane trip to town where a van full of Duluth adventurers used to be. Life goes back to, well, something that resembles normal. And then in a few days, a few weeks, a few months, those moments become distant memories of familiar faces and voices that aren't so familiar anymore. Everyone moving forward in life and barely talking to each other anymore. Sure, we have technology, but that is a poor substitute for actual physical communication. So all that is left of those relationships that were cemented during the summer are random Facebook posts entitled "remember when" and a random Snapchat or Instagram post here and there. It becomes one beautiful, fleeting memory that goes where all of the rest of the beautiful, fleeting memories go. And occasionally you will remember something. A phrase or a song or a person will remind you of your friends. Random places will never really be the same to go to. Walmart. Duluth. Places that really never held much significance before now hold an entire box of memories unlocked by the mere mention of the name or a glance as you drive by.
And life goes on. As it always has, as it always will. You go back to school. To work. To places that haven't changed much since you left even though you yourself have changed. And trying to explain it is maddening. For me, I like to hold to some of those memories as precious and dear, not to be shared. They stay in a nice little corner of my heart accessible only by me. Those are the ones I leave out in the brief retelling of "how was your summer at camp" conversations.
"So, what did God do in your life this summer?" That is almost as hard a question to answer as "how was your summer at camp." I know what He is doing in my heart. I know where He is trying to push me and how He is doing it. To try to put words to it, though, is rough. Yet another thing that I don't think I want to share just yet. It's not ready. It's like a fine wine. You don't pop the cork on it until just the right time when you know that it will be savored and appreciated by those partaking of it. For right now, that stuff is simmering just below the surface. For this introverted heart, it needs to stay there for now. So please don't ask me about it. Not just yet.
So for now, I readjust to reality here. I can tell you with absolute honesty that even after five years of being on camp staff, these next few days will be rough. They always are. It really hasn't gotten any easier over the years. It's almost like a mourning process. Letting go of what was behind but striving towards what is ahead. The future, though, is beautiful. The possibilities that lie there are exciting. And for a brief moment in time, I shared a wonderful summer with some wonderful people. Do I hope to see them again? Of course. I look forward to the day when I get to give them that awkward "hello, friend" hug and catch up on life again. Whether that moment comes here or on the other side of eternity, I look forward to it.
For right now, I will just sit in Caribou and write this, smiling to myself like an idiot as I remember inside jokes and serious conversations knowing that God was working on all of us the whole time we were together. Knowing that His message was shared with the precious children that He put in our care in our cabins for the summer. Remembering the long nights of sitting up with campers so they could tell their stories as we cried right along with them. Rejoicing with them as they told us that they stood up at the campfire and accepted Jesus into their heart. Worrying about them as they left camp for the last time, and for some of them returning to home situations that are scary. Wanting to protect them and make sure they knew that there were adults in this whole world that cared about them and loved them when the adults in their world were letting them down. Patiently waiting as they took out their aggression on us because the people who should love them the most don't love them at all. Enduring hitting and swearing and disrespect so that we could show them a better way and be a better example. Showing them the love of God and knowing that in some cases, we were planting the seeds but may not see the harvest. And knowing the whole time that it was absolutely worth the long nights, the early mornings, the hard conversations, the smiles, the laughter, the jokes, the time together. The time together. In relationship. In community. In Christ. Man, I miss that. That makes me a little teary eyed right there. However, I have to remember I am in a public place and wish not to make a spectacle of myself.
Here my heart, friends(speaking to my camp staff friends). Here comes the encouragement part. This is everything I can never say in person because I am way more eloquent when I have the chance to think things through and then write them down. That and I would want to cry and no one wants to see that.
It was all worth it. All of it. And you are all worth knowing. I cannot wait to see where God takes you all. It was a great joy to me to get to know some of you better, and I wish I would have gotten to know a few of you more. The deep conversations are the ones that I will cherish the most and hold very dear to my heart. I got to hear the questions you struggle with and the things you and God are still trying to sort out. Don't be afraid to ask the hard questions! How do you ever learn if you never ask? Ask questions and ask often. Be willing to listen and hear from different perspectives. Dig into the Word and know what you stand on. You are all so young yet. Take this time now to solidify what you believe because this world is going to throw lots of things at you. Be prepared. Find mentors. Find people to hold you accountable. It is vitally important. More than you could possibly know. Most importantly, find community. You need it. Even you introverts. You need people to talk to. You need people. Don't try to travel this road yourself. Find a community that will keep you going in the right direction.
And stay in touch. Whether through Facebook, a text message, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, whatever.....there is ALWAYS a way to stay connected. ALWAYS.
One more thing: "Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity." -1 Timothy 4:12
LIVE A LIFE OF INTEGRITY. LIVE A LIFE OF PURPOSE. LIVE A LIFE ON FIRE FOR CHRIST.
#amen #worth #bealight #beacatalyst
