Stories from the Summer

There are so many moments during the days that I step back and think, “Wow, this is my job. I’m so blessed. I get to have fun and hang out with kids and get paid for it!”

Then there are the moments when I stop because I realize I’m in the middle of something that, outside of the context of camp, is utterly ridiculous.

Like in summers past when I put on a child’s bumble costume and painted faces for the kids carnival.

Or when I was in a skit based around the ever-so-juvenile act of spitting.

Or, for example,  right now when I’m  in a trash bag under a truck topper lying on the dirty ground next to the maintenance shed hiding from campers.

THIS IS MY LIFE?!?!

I am 23 years old. And adult. A woman. A college graduate. And here I am- literally down in the dirt- in a pathetic attempt to avoid being pushed into the lake during the infamous game of Counselor Hunt.

 I picture myself through the eyes of my friends, family, teachers, etc. and am embarrassed and somewhat ashamed- I mean I know people who are younger than me and less mature to boot- and they are already raising families of their own, moving into houses with porches, and working 9 to 5 jobs where people take them seriously and sit around giant conference tables and wear suits.

And here I am acting like I’m the 7-year-old camper who is after me for stealing an Oreo from him.

I start planning what I’ll do if I ever get out of here alive.

I feel like a soldier in the trenches (apologies to those who have fought real battles- but I really felt that this was the never-ending game of Counselor Hunt). I’m suffocating in my own self-loathing by this point.

So I make plans- I’ll work for a prestigious publication writing public interest pieces and traveling all over the States. Or I’ll work for a non-profit company promoting clean water for children in Africa or maybe even start my own company selling clothing made by women in India recently freed from the sex trade. Something important and fulfilling and world-changing, of course.

Then I am awakened from my thoughtful daydream to the sound of footsteps, the creak of the window, the crinkling of trash bags.

I am caught.

A little boy’s face appears and he is smiling with sound- reaching out in joyful realization that he gets to shove me off the dock into the lake.

My planning takes a backseat as my heart is lifted up from the cobweb-filled truck topper. I emerge into sunlight in more ways than one.

What can I say? I’m a kid at heart- an idealist. And this place and these people keep me afloat. And maybe that is one of the many little reasons why I (somewhat reluctantly) stay in camp ministry.

That plus not paying rent plus having all my meals cooked for me plus having built-in friends, of course. 

Here We Go...

It all began in the summer of 2008. Now, this was before we had wireless internet and decent cell phone reception in Northern Minnesota. This was when I’d have to literally write everything down by hand which was something I was too lazy to do, due to the mere minutes of free time we’d have throughout the day, spaced randomly, yet beautifully like a candy-sprinkled donut. I had a spiral-bound journal with old world maps on the cover and pages with lines on one side and graphing paper on the other, as if charting the ever changing murkiness of the lake was my new quest.

Due to all of the above reasons I did not start a blog chronicling my everyday activities, thoughts, and observations and will have to give summaries of my entrance into camping ministry as well as my entrapments.

Since I was not keen on the idea of living at home another summer after my second year of college, I applied to work at Big Sandy Camp. I was hired as the Crafts Instructor and began my first and best summer of camping ministry. I realize it was probably my best due to the fact that it was my first and having no previous summers to compare it to, was blown away that a job could be so life-changing.

Here was a job where people cared about each other, where people never took themselves too seriously, were never too important to wash dishes or mop the floor.  Here was a job where silliness is encouraged, where hands are held, where playing games and putting on skits is all part of the day. Here was a job where you could get into a deep conversation in five minutes while checking your mailbox in the kitchen.

This job gave me the ability to adapt and to accept new challenges. It gave me lifelong friends that I still keep in contact with. It gave me a renewed spirit and blessings through faith, no matter how it is different for different people.

These are the good parts.

These are the most heavily weighted parts.

Which is why I guess I stay in this ministry for the time being.

Because there are the not so good parts too.

The unpredictable schedule. Late nights and super early mornings. Drama. Stumbling through your own grapplings with faith. Annoying campers. No free time. Wondering if the outside world even exists anymore. Demands. Demands. Demands.

And the list goes on.

But comparing this list with the one I mentioned before brings me back to my current position: Camp has too many good things for me at this point in my life to even think about leaving this ministry.

The good outweighs the bad. And, if I’m honest, the bad isn’t all that bad. It’s petty stuff, really, when compared with the depth of that well of goodness.

This is how I camp to be a reluctant camp staffer.

Let the adventures begin.