Summer 2012

Summer camp has officially ended and I'm finally writing once again. There is so much I could write about in regards to the summer so the next few posts will focus on my experience at Camp Cho-Yeh during this crazy summer.

To recap: my job this summer was to be the Assistant Camp Registrar to Jenn Jones, Summer Camp Registrar. Although there were many times I missed running around camp and feeling more involved, at the end of the day I knew I was where I needed to be. I wanted to be at Cho-Yeh and this position was the empty seat at the otherwise full lunch table.

Instead of having this attitude that revolves around what I want, I started thinking about how I could serve Jenn in my position. Maybe I wasn't put in the position because I could get the most out of it, but because I could give the most while in it. It can be so difficult to think that way but once I did I was able to hand out every little piece of myself to anyone who needed it.

So many times our faith and our lives are so focused on ourselves. What will I learn? How can I grow? And many times these are good things to think on. But just take that step outside yourself and ask how you can serve those around you. Trust me, you'll still learn and grow from these experiences.

Are we having a moment?

Do you ever just have a moment? It might happen in slow motion or it might just give you reason to be still. It happens anywhere. It grips you. It makes breathing a little more of a task.

It’s that moment after the laughing dies down but before someone speaks again. It’s that second you drive around the corner and can only see the summer-flavored trees so beautifully poised. It’s that time where you share a joke through eye contact in a crowded room. 

It’s looking up at the night sky and hoping for stars but what you get is stars upon stars.

It’s this moment: our boss is sitting on the steps and a few people kneel down around him. I expect to hear someone start a prayer but suddenly hear one from my own lips, but it is covered by twenty some other voices as the summer staff crowds around. It’s one prayer and I am overwhelmed by the sound.

Those moments that could be ordinary and passed over but are suddenly set ablaze with something bigger.

I think we’re given those moments by the Lord so that we remember we’re alive. Whole poems are written about this stuff, whole books! It’s real and it’s not just water for thirsty souls it’s every food you love for every piece of your heart. (For me I imagine a brick-oven pizza, beer, and a whole pile of pancakes).

(via awelltraveledwoman.tumbler.com)

Hello/Goodbye

As we come to the close of yet another crazy semester of retreats at Camp Cho-Yeh I can’t help but feel heavy-hearted as I realize our team is about to scatter into our various summer camp positions and eventually into other parts of the state and country this fall.

I feel like some masked thief broke in when we weren’t ready and sped up all the clocks and filled all our hours with activity instead of conversations. I’ve already started my summer job of working in the office so I’ve been having actual feelings of separation anxiety as I rarely see my team. I’ve started feeling so fearful that time is running out and I haven’t yet given all I could of myself.

I feel that temptation to count my regrets, the times when I could have done more or better, but I stop myself. There’s no need to relive our histories unless they make us better and stronger, not troubled.

I start to really think about the good-byes and how much we can all agree on this being an awful, awful part of our existence. Anyone who tries to live in a place without roots will find it. Anyone who craves adventure and newness will find it. And here I am having to do this multiple times a year it seems. It’s so unsettling.

So I realize I need comfort in all this. I need a constant. And I remember a friend once telling me that in a world of good-byes God is the ultimate hello. He’s the forever hello. And that is something to hold onto when all your familiarities are taking flight. 

Tattoo

I finally got the tattoo that's been on my mind for years. It's on my right wrist, in the simplest font I could find, and says "heaven is wherever."


It's a concept I need to be reminded of constantly. Heaven is wherever we choose to bring it. Wherever there is love, or patience, a kind word, or guidance, the sound of laughter or a sight that makes us catch our breath.


It's at Camp Cho-Yeh, it's in my parent's house, it's at the next camp I work at. 


Heaven is wherever.

Joy

Don’t let comparison steal your joy.

This has been on my mind a lot lately as our retreat season gets busier and busier and we start to step over into preparing for summer camp as well.

My job this summer is to be the assistant to our office registrar. I’m very excited about this job change and have been slowly transitioning into this role as summer gets closer. However, I still miss the craziness of retreats and feel like I’m a little on the outside the reach of that exploding piñata.

Don’t get me wrong, my introverted self is certainly enjoying my time in the office and I know I’ll have plenty of opportunities this summer to interact with campers and counselors.

And I’m letting the comparison of what I’m doing to what the rest of my team is doing get to me in a negative way. And it’s stealing my joy a little bit.

And I’m not the only one. Others on my team have compared job loads, hours, and responsibilities to one another and it’s draining us of our happiness.

One thing I’ve realized though is that we need to choose our joy. We get to be content in any situation because the Lord brought us there and what good is it to count your sorrows?

So, just remember this old hymn and know it is true even now.

“Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,

it is well, it is well with my soul.”

Happy Belated Easter!

  

For Easter this year I went with my friend Morgan to a Cowboy Church. I’d never even heard of such a thing, but there it was, this open-air arena fit for a rodeo, plastic chairs in the sand and bleachers to one side, saloon doors swinging open to the bathrooms.

We sang hymns like country singers would and then we experienced a more contemporary worship band (James Curlin Band) and soon after we were responding with “Amen!” to our animated African-American preacher.

It felt so jumbled and yet in each part of the service, the Lord was there. We all know He doesn’t fit into any sort of type, category, or box. He’s not found only in nature, only in church, only in our prayers in Bible studies. He’s everything and everywhere. He’s in our sadness when saying good-bye, He’s in our conversations and laughter with friends, He’s in our lazy moments by the pool. He’s alive now, for us, for always.

Morgan and I on our way to Easter Service.

Rain & Things

It’s been raining a lot here at camp lately and everything is such a lively green.

I will not even pretend that I can write about nature and this gorgeous earth with any sort of depth or intelligence. I’ll just let you read some Annie Dillard for yourself.

"The point of the dragonfly's terrible lip, the giant water bug, birdsong, or the beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows, is not that it all fits together like clockwork--for it doesn't ... but that it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free, finged tangle. Freedom is the world's water and weather, the world's nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: and the creator loves pizzazz."

Annie Dillard (b. 1945), U.S. essayist and autobiographer. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

This entire book is the best book about observing the natural world that I’ve read. You should too.

Happy Spring y'all!

(all images taken at Camp Cho-Yeh by yours truly)