Camp

A couple months ago, I had the incredible opportunity to help at a nearby summer camp for families, and it was…amazing. Please forgive me if this seems a bit rambly…I’m not going to take much time proofreading this or revising, because unlike most of what I’ve posted so far, this is not really any kind of formal composition, but rather a description of what was quite possibly the most fulfilling weekend in my life so far. Also, I'd like to tell you up front that this is a long post. No, seriously, this is the longest post I've added so far, and (hopefully) the longest that I will ever add to this blog (I usually try to avoid droning on and on and putting people to sleep), and if you would much rather read something on this blog that you could easily get through in a minute or so (and I can't say that I would blame you), please skip over this and find something that you might actually enjoy. However, in the case that you'd like to kick back for a few minutes and hear about a teenage girl's seemingly insignificant weekend which turned out to be an awesome adventure and life-long memory, and possibly an inspiration for her future ministry, stay tuned.  So here’s a look at family camp; well, through my eyes anyway.

All summer my sister, who was coordinating the activities for kids at camp, had been at a loss for anyone to help her over the camp weekend. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to lead the games, etc, but she was already teaching a class and due to the physical impossibility of being in two places at once, really needed at least 2-3 other teens and/or adults to work with her.  One of my best friends generously offered to help, and my sister gladly and gratefully took her up on it. Meanwhile, I had been contemplating going to a different camp (attending, not helping) which happened over the same weekend. I had already been there two years prior, and had an amazing time getting to spend time with people my own age (when you’re homeschooled, being with peers can be a rare luxury), discovering God more, and having a much-needed break from family (don’t get me wrong. I love my dad, mom, big sister and three little brothers dearly…but when you’re around them ALL THE TIME…well, it was nice to be away for a week). Last year, I had planned to go to that same camp once again, but as luck would have it, came down with a virus the day before I was to leave. So this summer, I was really hoping for a nice, quiet, relaxing week away from my family for the first time in two years. Alright, alright, a teen camp’s probably not exactly what one would call “quiet” or “relaxing,” but you know what I mean. Long story short, I discussed this with my parents, who said that if I really wanted to go, I probably could, although it would be really nice if I would stay and help my sister instead. Now, I could take this opportunity to say that I chose to teach at family camp purely out of the goodness of my heart, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. I mean, I would have helped her even if my only reason for doing so had been the desire to get my sister out of a pinch…however, I cannot honestly say that that was the entire reason behind this vounteerage (I don’t think that’s a word, but work with me here).  Truth be told, I had always wanted to work at a camp, from the time I was about six years old, so in a way, this was a dream come true. But apart from all of that, after praying about it I felt kind of like God was nudging me toward volunteering (I could also feel my sister nudging me in that direction…no, really, she literally nudged me). But seriously, it was like He was saying that there was work for me to do there for Him, and that it would be very meaningful. So while my sister ran around to various craft supplies stores, and filled a Rubbermaid bin with miscellaneous camp necessities, I packed clothes, etc. for camp, and grew increasingly excited at the prospect of the coming weekend. When we pulled into the camp parking lot, we were heralded by the old sign that had been there for who knows how long, and it was like vague déjà vu, as I had been there years before as a little girl when my mom was volunteering at a different camp event. What I noticed first were the differences. They seemed to have done quite a bit of remodeling in the past decade or so, and at first glance, I didn’t even recognize parts of it. The second thing I noticed was the size. I mean, it’s a pretty big camp, but it seemed a lot smaller now than it had when I was seven (things look a lot bigger when you’re in second grade.) My sister immediately pointed me to the gym, where my friend and I would be leading the more active games. We had barely been there fifteen minutes when ten preschoolers showed up, some ready for fun and socialization, others not so much. Soon, however, everyone was having a great time on the playground, their favorite being the merry-go-round, and I had settled into a feeling of contentedness, and concluded that leading gym time was a lot easier than people had made it sound. The hardest part was keeping four children swinging at the same time, but even that was easily taken care of by my walking back and forth behind them, giving them each a push when they needed it. One little girl chattered away, telling everyone about her special blanket, her Barbies, and other possessions that are important to a five-year-old girl. Another little girl, aged four, loved telling me about her family, especially her little sister. The oldest boys enjoyed just seeing how high they could each swing, while the younger two were fascinated with the slides, climbing up the ladder and sliding down countless times over the course of the morning. Soon, it was time to switch off age groups. My friend led the preschoolers to their other class and stayed there to help them with painting and story time. While the little guys were lining up to walk to their next class, however, all fourteen of the elementary-aged kids had eagerly run over to the gym from their quiet story and craft class, and when I re-entered the gym, I felt more than a little overwhelmed. You see, I had somehow gotten it into my head that because they’re older, are able to better participate in group games, and can readily communicate any needs they may have, that the older kids group would be even easier than the wiggly, energetic preschoolers…I was DEAD WRONG. It wasn’t that they were intentionally not listening, or trying to ignore me, it was just that the sheer noise of fourteen kids (twelve of them boys) bouncing basketballs in a closed, echo-y gym, shouts of joy and indistinct chatter that made my loudest attempts at getting their attention inaudible. It was also then that it occurred to me that my sister had promised that she would give me a whistle in case I needed it, and that I had never received said whistle. Eventually, I managed to be heard enough above the din to make sure that everyone who needed to use the bathroom had done so, and gathered everyone to go outside. Now, I didn’t used to be a real advocate for “head checks,” feeling the counting of the number of people, rather than knowing them by name, somewhat impersonal. However, I had done several “head counts” with the preschool class, as well as learned all of their names, and had felt pretty confident that I would be able to do the same with the older crowd. To my disappointment in myself, I never did learn all of the elementary kids’ names, and found myself counting heads every thirty seconds or so; but I think given the fact that it was a class of 14 and I only knew them for two days, I did pretty dang good about getting to know them personally, and should probably cut myself some slack. Also, it was a good thing that I counted so frequently, because on that first morning, three turned up temporarily missing when they ran out the gym door and up the hill and didn’t come back until much later (at which time their parents spoke with them). That was definitely the most nerve-wracking part of the whole experience. Although I figured that they’d probably be fine, as they seemed pretty accustomed to the camp and appeared to know where they were going, it was still scary not having any idea where they were for about forty minutes. Anyways, the treasure hunt that we had planned didn’t pan out, because while half of the group was discussing various tactics on how to bring the three runaways back, and planning an ambush on them, the other half was curiously searching for and finding treasure hunt clues outside, until they had uncovered every last one. Can’t say as I blame ‘em, though…despite my best efforts, I’m sorry to say that their first gym class was probably pretty boring, between the missing kids, the difficulty of efficiently moving a group that large through each activity, and their wide variety of interests, each with their own idea of what would be” fun” to do. In the end, we all just went to the playground where they could each pursue their own activities, provided that they stayed within view. Throughout all of this, there was a little seven-year-old boy who followed me around, asking me to play this game or that with him, which I gladly did while keeping an eye on the rest of the group. His favorite game was Twister, and we played round after round of that until the end of class. After the older kids’ gym session, my job for the day was over, and I got to spend the rest of the day having lots of fun with my friend, including a massive glow-in-the-dark Capture the Flag game which played out under a beautiful meteor shower. The next morning, I awoke feeling more prepared, and only a little bit stiff. Right after breakfast, my friend and I strolled over to the gym just in time for the little guys to file in for gym time, most of whom seemed more relaxed and ready for the day than they had the previous morning. I have to admit that it did seem only slightly hectic at a couple of points during this morning’s class, because while the day before had been sunny and suitable for our spending most of the time on the playground, today it was drizzly and a bit cold, and as we were stuck inside with limited activities, it was a little difficult to find things that would interest every age and every attention span (which differs greatly among 3-6 year olds). But, alas, I think they enjoyed themselves, and I felt so fortunate to be able to witness their little “jokes” and the witty conversations that they had amongst themselves, which none but them could fully appreciate. After the first session was over, I watched with a touch of sadness as they walked out the gym door to their next and final class at camp, and it occurred to me at that moment that though camp had barely started, it was also nearing its end, and any memories that they had made thus far in gym time were all they were going to acquire; for this year, at least. Again, the elementary class ran in and I could not help but admire the enthusiastic energy that they held for almost everything they did. Whether that was basketball, bingo, tic-tac-toe or twister, each one seemed to harbor an inner strength and passion for whichever game they chose. After all had arrived and I had again resumed the near-constant counting of occupants to ensure their safety, one of the camp directors walked in and, in what I can only assume was in response to the previous day’s scare when a few kids up and left, kindly offered his game-leading assistance, for which I was very thankful. Don’t get me wrong, I loved leading gym time and didn’t mind teaching alone in the least. But there was a sense of relief when his voiced reached much further than mine ever could so that the entire gym could be easily aware of the activity plans for the morning, plus they could actually see him, as opposed to me who stood about 2-3 inches shorter than the tallest student. And so, thus we continued out to the field which was growing steadily warmer, and prepared to play our version of a “human board game.” By the end of the game, all but two of the kids had left in pursuit of monkey bars, swings, tetherball and slides, but they were all having a blast, and it was a lot of fun to see them explore and play. It was during this time that something that was a strange combination of awkward and adorable happened. The little boy (the Twister fanatic) had been following me around the entire class time, and occasionally bringing me beautiful bouquets of dandelions and other flora. As I stood near the merry-go-round, on which over half of the class had crowded on to, the little boy stood up, jumped into my arms, and by reflex (I have little brothers who do that sort of thing all the time), I caught him. He proceeded then to profess that he loved me, and asked for my hand in marriage…I replied that, no, I would not marry him, but tried to say it simply and kindly, and figured that he had been kidding and would let the matter drop. He did not, and asked me many more times if I would marry him, or at least be his girlfriend, at which an 8-year-old on the merry-go-round exclaimed: “She probably already has a husband!” I avoided pointing out obvious reasons why I am not married, and attempted once again to move on to other subjects. Eventually he stopped asking, but by that point several of the other boys had started teasing the little guy, and I felt more than a little bad for him. But after a few minutes, everyone seemed to forget about it, including him, and the rest of that gym time was fairly uneventful. I taught them a really fun game that I had learned at the camp I attended two years before, and was glad that they seemed to be having a ton of fun. As the morning drew to close and they left to join their parents for lunch, I again felt much the same way that I had earlier upon the preschoolers’ departure, except this was different in the way that unlike the little guys, these kids did not hug me good-bye, look back and wave or show any other sign that they might share some of the same sentiment of something coming to an end. And while it wasn’t as if I’d never see them again, as I would actually run into many of them throughout the rest of the afternoon, I was no longer involved in their games, interactions or fun, at least not in the same way. I began to pack everything that we had used over the course of the past two mornings into the “camp bin,” that my sister had put so much time and thought into, when a third grade boy, the same one who had assumed me to already be a married woman, and had also been one of the three who had gone “adventuring” the previous morning, asked if I would play basketball with him for a little bit. I, knowing next to nothing about the sport, agreed while apologizing in advance for my lack of knowledge and skill. I’ll tell you right now that he won fair and square, 6-0, which probably could have been readily predicted from the beginning. I did, however, learn quite a bit about basketball during the experience, as he explained some of the rules, gave me tips, and even tried to let me win a couple of times. After about ten minutes, his dad came to pick him up and he walked out the door, just as the others had. Well, that was it. It was over. Though camp would continue for the rest of the day, with many more activities for kids, adults and families, this “job” to which I had been assigned was completed, and all too soon. Now when one of the kids ran up to me and exclaimed: “Teacher! Teacher!” it was bittersweet, because in just a few hours I would leave, and even if I did teach there again the following year, they were going to have a full year of new experiences, new memories, and life between now and then, and the majority would probably not remember this weekend at all twelve months from now. Still, the afternoon was enjoyable, if not fairly mundane and relaxing, which was great because to be honest, I was pretty exhausted. My sister was still in her classroom cleaning up, and my friend, who had been begged by my brothers to take them to do some of the other kids’ activities, went with them to do just that. My parents returned with my youngest brother to where we had stayed the night, and settled in for a much-needed nap, while I found myself alone, surrounded by near silence and a deserted playground, and took full advantage of this and played on the swing for a long time, staying there until a while later when my sister treated my friend and I to smoothies, and thanked us again for our help over the weekend. After the drinks were finished, my friend, my sister and I got to spend some relaxing girl time together, and played in the water until almost dinner time. When dinner was finished, the last event of the day was to take place, and I had planned to drop off my littlest brother at the nursery and go help my sister with the kids’ evening movie. In the understatement of the century, however, my brother had separation anxiety, and would not let me leave him, so I gathered up him and his diaper bag, and took him to the playground where we played tag, went down the slide, and I showed him how to turn somersaults in the grass. After a while, he became tired, and wanted me to push him on the swing. After I sat him down and pushed him for a little bit, I rested in the swing next to him, and what beheld us to the west was a glorious sunset, bright yellow with touches of pink and grey, and as the toes of my shoes grazed the dirt beneath me, I realized not for the first time since I had arrived how incredible it was to have the opportunity to be there. And by that I don’t just mean the water slide, or capture the flag, or any of the other fun afternoon events, as fun as each of those things were. It had been simply amazing to watch the kids have fun together, to walk up the beautifully forested hill each day, to be able to show God’s love to the children, and now to gaze upon the western sky, as the colors became deeper and then lighter again, while frogs croaked and crickets chirped, and the faint smell of campfires and pine hung in the gentle breeze. Not only was all of this awesome and humbling, it was a true blessing to know that I was meant to be there, that this was part of God’s plan for me, and that whether or not I ever do this kind of ministry again, at least for that weekend He used me and fulfilled me in a way that I could never have been otherwise. As my family drove home that night, the last two days felt too short, and I think I realized what I already knew: I would love to do something like that all the time. Who knows, maybe someday I will. But for now, I remain content in the knowledge that I was a small part of this ministry, and have discovered that God can use even my limited abilities for something that is both fulfilling for me and that glorifies Him.