And this year, I had the opportunity to go to camp as a "leader"...sometimes, that's just a fancy word for kids playing dress up with name tags. The day before we left I found myself with my head spinning from all the things I'd left until the last minute. And there was me, having had no cup of coffee that morning, and my stuff scattered all over the floor that night instead of in my bag where it should have been the day before and really just not knowing what happened to that skinny, bruise-kneed 12 year old girl. Who sent her into the world of grown-ups? because they were clearly mistaken.
Yes, that's typically how it begins. And usually if you meet me on a day like that you had better run. But the next morning I somehow managed to get on a bus full of the best people you'll find. And that has a way of setting things right.
So this week, at least for more than a few days, I got to live at Camp Harvest again. It's always an adventure, never really changes, and God...well He works there too. That makes for some glorious days filled with dirt, Styrofoam cups of good coffee, new and always familiar faces, the infinitely gross, people's quirks and ticks, and their stories. That one, it's my favorite.
I heard a lot of them this time around. It's a hard thing, you know, putting words to the seasons of a short life. But these girls, my girls, the ones in Cabin C...they did. And I was rendered speechless more than once, able to do nothing but sit with them as their hearts beat wide open for me to see. Me, with my messiness and one gosh-awful tendency of sticking her foot in her mouth.
I've been thankful for grace before. But how much of it I experienced in the hours spent with ladies brought to that decade old camp by the One who wrote them into being, just as He brought this girl a million and a half hours ago.
I've found that kids, including "leaders" like us, come to camp for various reasons. But God has His reasons too, and He's not forgetful or apathetic or willing to overlook what we try pass by with eyes averted and heads down. And let's be honest shall we? Love like His, the perfect kind...it's a scary thing. It's relentless and requires surrender.
So we squirm and try to laugh our way through weeks like this one, knowing it's all in vain, because when do we ever get away with just some clothes full of lake water and a couple of bible verses to bury in our pockets?
Conviction, Truth, His Words..they stick to you like a good friend. Closer than a brother is what I've heard.
And no one can win what's already been won.
This is all really good news. It's the reason why girls like me have lofty aspirations of being a part of weeks like this until I have wrinkles and a couple of cats. Even then...
I'll be waiting for next year.
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