where i belong: scenes from week 1 at camp

The sound of honking and wings flapping filled the air.  Geese scrambled to get out of my way as I walked down the land bridge toward the swimming lake.  Unfortunately, they had left their droppings everywhere, so keeping my shoes clean as I walked was a near impossible task.  As I opened the gate, I realized how weird it felt to be doing this after all these years.  For so long I had come here as a camper, so I of course knew the "don't enter the swimming area unless the waterfront director is on duty and says you can come in" rule.  Yet here I was, walking through the gate while there was no one inside.  It honestly felt kind of wrong.  I set my stuff down under my lifeguard stand, found the skimming bucket, and started the tedious job of cleaning out the water.  Although my job as the waterfront director was mostly lifeguarding, it also included removing the muck from the lake  before the first group showed up to swim.  I checked my watch as I dumped out another bucket-full onto the weeds.  9:38 Tuesday morning.  The first program, Tee Pee Town, was scheduled to swim at 10:00.  I sighed and continued working.  It wasn't as if I hated my job--on the contrary, I loved just being at camp--it was just that I never saw myself doing this.  When I applied to work at Camp Haluwasa, I figured that I would be a counselor, hopefully in one of the older programs.  I had wanted to work in kids' lives just like my counselors had done when I was a camper.  But that wasn't what happened.  They needed a waterfront director, so I said that I would be willing to do it.  It wasn't my first choice, but it wasn't terrible.  Mostly, I was just jealous of the staff that got campers.  I would have done just as good of a job as the other Tee Pee Town Counselors, I thought, Why do I have to be the one stuck here at the lake all day?  My selfishness was rearing its ugly head, and no matter how much I tried to force it down, it would climb its way back into my brain.  "God, please help me," I said out loud.  Praying out loud--as long as I was alone--helped me to collect my thoughts much better than doing it silently.  "Help me to do the job I was given," I said, "Help me not to be jealous of the other counselors.  Help me to somehow, even though I'll mostly be lifeguarding, touch the life of at least one camper this week."  It wasn’t much, but it was exactly how I felt as I finished the job of picking up goose poop.  I put the skimming bucket away, sat down, and looked up to see the Tee Pee Town campers  walking down the land bridge.  As I waited for the group to get to the gate, I looked down at my wrist.  I had on a bracelet that I had gotten last week at staff training that said I AM SECOND.  Help me to remember that this week, God.  I thought, Help me to put myself second, even when I would rather be doing something else.  I knew that this week would be impossible to get through without Him, but I had no idea just how much I would have to rely on His strength in the next few days.  Putting a smile on my face, I walked over to greet Tee Pee Town and got myself ready for a long day of guarding. 

I remember this being emotional as a camper, but this is a little bit insane.  I didn't remember having this many girls crying after the Slam skit and having so few counselors to comfort them.  I felt bad only being able to talk to one at a time, but I couldn't really do anything about it.  I sat down next to one girl and asked her how she was doing.  "Well," she said, "I always get emotional after the slam skit.  It happens every year, so I try not to let it affect me, but I can't help it, because it's basically my life up there.  I've done all those things."  The skit that she was talking about was one put on by the counselors in the older programs called "I Deserve," named after a song by Third Day.  It was a silent skit depicting the life of a girl who was tempted by many different sins--drugs, gossip, pride, lust, suicide--and eventually is trapped by them.  Satan, along with all her sins, pushes her down and doesn't let her escape until Jesus comes on the scene.  He lets the girl out of her prison and forgives her, and she is finally able to walk away from her sins, healed and whole.  Listening to the camper's story, I realized that she really had done all those things.  Yet somehow, when I asked her if she had accepted Christ into her life yet, she said no.  I was astonished that someone who had a life story such as hers didn't want to be set free.  "Why not?" I asked.  After a little bit of hesitation, she gave me the only answer that made sense.  "I don't think I can ever forgive myself," she said, "I've done so many things that I regret.  I don't even deserve to be forgiven."  I just looked at her for a second, unable to think of something to say.  "Let me get my Bible," I finally managed to get out.  I grabbed it out of my backpack a few seats over and opened up to Romans 8.  "Here," I said, "In the Bible, Paul says that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."  After explaining what condemnation was, I continued to read a few more passages to her, then related it back to the skit.  "You're right.  Your life is like the skit.  But you're at the part where you've realized that you're trapped in your sin and Christ is your only way out.  You're standing there deciding between him and your sin, and Satan is just pointing out everything you've done wrong.  And all you have to do is take that last step and kneel at his feet."  It was amazing how perfectly the skit depicted where she was in her life right now.  We talked for a little while after that, but she ended up not making a decision that night.  She told me that it made sense and she would think about it, but she still didn’t want to forgive herself.  It kind of hurt me to hear that, but I knew that I had done all I could.  I would just have to keep praying and let God do the rest.

"Okay guys," Aunt Flity said as we got back to Girls Tee Pee Town, "You have time to shower if you want.  We have an hour and a half until dinner."  Oh good, I thought, I might have time to take a nap.  Although working with the campers was fun and worthwhile, it was absolutely exhausting.  I was just about to enter my longhouse when I heard my name being called.  "Aunt Gabby?" asked one of the girls, "Do you wanna go on a run with me?"  I really didn't want to, but I knew I should.  "C'mon," she tried to convince me, "It'll only be like two miles."  "Okay," I finally agreed, "But only if we stay on camp property and Aunt Flity says it's okay."  She got the okay, and we got our running shoes on and headed out toward the obstacle course.  I don't remember how, but we got on the conversation of what sports we play.  "See, I'm trying to decide between soccer and cross country this fall," she explained, "I've played soccer all my life, but I love running too.  And I don't wanna give up soccer, but I think I might actually do better in cross country."  Although I was huffing and puffing too hard to smile, I was amazed at how God worked.  He put me in this position at least partly because I had gone through the exact same thing before.  "Well," I told her, "I actually had the exact same struggle in high school.  I played soccer freshman and sophomore year and then ran cross country junior and senior year.  Then in college I had the same problem.  Just this year I had to decide between soccer, cross country, and rugby."  I went on to explain how I had prayed and stressed about my decision, but still had no clue about what God wanted to do.  Then one of my friends had talked to me about it, and said that I might be thinking about it the wrong way.  "You know," she had said, "God might not really care about what sport you play.  As long as you're doing everything you can to serve and worship him with whatever you're doing, I don't think it matters what sport you're playing."  It seemed like such an obvious concept, but I didn't understand it until then.  I explained this to the camper, and she seemed to be in the same place I had been.  I talked to her about some of the verses and ideas I had thought about, and she said that she would look them up.  As we finished our lap around the camp, I thanked God again for putting me here.  It was worth all the work to be able to minister to even one camper. 

It was still raining a little bit as I walked back from the Tab, so I put my hood up.  I walked quickly on the way back to Tee Pee Town, not because I was in a hurry, but because I didn't want anyone else walking with me.  I had been with people all week, but as much as I loved it, I needed some time alone.  I just felt so weird and calm and broken and . . . empty.  But not the bad kind of empty.  Not the kind where you're confused and hurt and lonely.  It was the kind of empty where you've been giving and giving and giving until you feel like you have nothing left.  I was the kind of empty that Paul was talking about in Philippians when he said that he was being "poured out like a drink offering."  I felt like all week I had been pouring out and pouring out, and now I had nothing left in me to give.  I was empty and needed to be filled again.  I couldn't wait to get home and physically rest and be fed, but I also needed so badly to spiritually rest and be fed.  As I sang and walked through the mud puddles, I marveled at how God not only had been working in the campers this week, but in me too.  Never before had I felt so empty but been so happy about it.  And I knew, as I had known all week, that this was where I belonged.