Category Archives: Camp

Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

Running camps is the highlight of my summer. I love organizing memorable experience and creating unique themes. I love hanging out with the campers and seeing them grow. I love being able to share exuberant energy and seeing it brighten the atmosphere. I love being able to be excited about things adults aren’t supposed to get excited about anymore. Yes, camp is a wonderful thing — most of the time. You see, every week there will be a camper who will go down in infamy. A camper whose name will be remembered forever more. There may even be whole situations or rules shorted to just a name: “We have an Elliot situation”, “Code Silas”, “We have another Jacob this week”. What does it take to be so remembered by staff? What does it take to have a counselor shiver at the sight of a name on a fresh roster? What does it take for indescribable joy to overcome a director who sees that a camper has finally aged out of camp? Well, it is different for every one of these infamous campers. But they truly find a way to be remembered in the worst way possible.

I’ve dealt with many a “bad” camper in my 5 years of working camp. But this this past week, I’ve had the humbling experience of working with the most difficult camper of my life. Miss Mary (pseudonym) is the textbook definition of contrary. She is completely defiant and seems to make it her sole mission to oppose anything I say. She talks over other campers. She will sneak out of the camp room. She will dunk her head in the sink just to cause a puddling trail behind her. She tries to scare the younger kids with stories of snakes and death all the while grinning. She gets frustrated when told not to do something and will just look at you and continue to do it. She will cover her ears and shout “everyone be quiet, everyone be quiet” when you ask her to lower her voice. She will sit on the ground and stare at you when you ask her to please move — her eyes piercing back as if saying, “How are you going to make me?”

I write all this first, but Mary is much more complicated than a washboard list of negative behaviors and qualities. My week with Mary reached the pinnacle on Thursday when I sat patiently while Mary had a 45 minute tantrum. She had run outside after I told her she could not talk over the other campers in our lunch program. She knew she was supposed to stay inside (I had told her many times throughout the week), so I stood my ground and put her in a proper time out. This is when the tears came. The cries got louder and behavior more defiant, but I just sat and listed. I had learned by that point in the week that a lot of her behavior was attention seeking. So I calmly listened while she screamed. And while I listened, my heart broke.

“No one listens to me. No one. Not anyone… They all just talk and talk and don’t listen… No one is my friend… All this is rules, rules, rules… Masks kill people and the animals… six feet, six feet… The governor ruined everything… how are we supposed to make friends with six feet? It’s all fake. It’s the governor’s fault. Everyone is just afraid… I haven’t been with anyone since school was let out… No one is around… I just did whatever… and now it’s all social distancing and rules.. My parents just wanted me gone, that’s why I’m here… How are you supposed to have fun? No one listens… Nobody cares… No one. Not anyone.”

These are just some of the sentiments this 9 year old shared. There is a lot going on in these words. Frustration at seeing other kids making friends, but no one making friends with her. Lack of understanding and stress around COVID-19 and the strange new world it has thrust us into. Overhearing information from parents that goes against county guidelines. Lack of structure at home during the school closures. This girl really is struggling with some serious things. I would wispier, “I hear you. I’m listening. You are right, this is so hard. You are being so brave.” as she repeated these thoughts over and over through tears. My suspicions were solidified with this break down: Mary did not have proper discipline or praise at home. See one of Mary’s previous meltdowns occurred after she got embarrassed from messing up a drawing. She begins screaming when she feels like people are not paying attention to her. She tells scary stories to captive an audience and feel powerful. She is not given any affirmation, so instead she takes attention. The problem is, you cannot make friends that way. Yet this is the only way she has learned to make people notice her.

She does not listen to authority in any form because she has never had a healthy fear of consequences. She has learned she can do whatever she wants and there will be no repercussions. If she screams to watch a movie, and you turn on the TV, she has won. She knows “if I want this, all I have to do is be obnoxious enough”. It is a lot more work to deal with the screams and tears than to just turn on Netflix. She has observed her parents disregarding authority and passing blame, and like a sponge, she mimics their same verbiage in her fits. She has never learned that sometimes you have to do something you don’t like just because it is the right thing to do. She has never learned sometimes you have to do something you don’t like just because it is a rule. Mary does not believe rules apply to her, just like her parents do not.

I saw all this still realize that there was much more going on that I would never see. I wanted to hold this girl even if she pushed me away and tell her, “You are amazing. You are special. You are loved. It is crazy right now, but you will be okay because I’ve got you. You don’t have to worry about any of this, because I’m holding you.” But for my own safety, I cannot hold a camper – I cannot hold a young girl who has never been given affirmation.

My mind was spinning as I thought of ways to help this girl. She needs positive affirmation. She needs to be noticed when she does something right or good. She needs encouragement. But she also needs discipline. She needs to learn how to take responsibility. She needs social skills coaching. She needs to learn some hard lesson that will make her life miserable for a while but her life would forever be miserable if she did not learn.

After the tantrum had resolved (I redirected her focus onto a chalk drawing she had done earlier, and we spent the rest of the day drawing outside), I sat back at my desk exhausted. And I realized something very important. I was not her parent. I was not her therapist. I was not her behavior coach. Her parents did not send her to camp to be “fixed”. Her parents were not paying me to fix her. In fact, it was impossible for me to fix 9 years worth of problems in one week. I think it is an admirable quality to want to help. But it was a relief when I realized in the most practical sense that there was nothing I could do for this girl. Yes, I could tell her that her art project was pretty. I could praise her for keeping her hands to herself. I could try my best to correct her inappropriate behavior. However, when it came to psychological issues and home life, I had no power.

I was saddened by this realization though it was a necessary revelation for my own peace of mind — It was not by job to fix her. Heck, it wasn’t even my responsibility to discipline her. It was just my job to get her through the day. So what did I do the next day over the lunch program?

I put on a movie.

4. Gospel and Religion

This post belongs to a series on the inner mess of my mind. If this seems at all interesting, begin by reading “1. Uncovering the Mess”. Welcome.

Summer of 2017 at camp was an oasis. By the end of staff training I had made genuine friends and developed a deep love for these people I had only known for two weeks. The openness, compassion, and honor of these people was amazing. I felt joy for the first time in a long time. I was laughing again. I was having fun. There was something so different about my fellow staff. I have been a part of many christian groups over the years and I have never come across such amazing people as those at Lake Geneva Youth Camp. These people have their struggles, failures, and shortcomings just like everyone else. We had our personal and theological differences. I got frustrated with some of them at times, but as a whole, we were a united front. I was feeling good about the friends I had made and enjoyed getting to know these people more and more each day. I finally felt like I was growing instead of fading away. I had a group of girls who would grow with me, cry with me, and be silly with me. But I was challenged by two 20 year-old men.

First was the spiritual devotion and theological wisdom of Aaron. Aaron has seen his fare share of pain and abandonment. Yet continues to dig into the spirit and word. The more life is difficult, the dipper into God he abides. He has a gift for prayer. At school he spends two hours in the morning in prayer every day before class. When he prays for people his words are powerful. He truly believes what he is praying, is investing in what he is praying for, and has faith in who he is praying to. The result is miraculous. I had never met anyone who was so obviously seeking God before. I had heard about this kind of devotion, but never witnessed it. Here was someone who was a deep thinker, who had suffered, and asked tough questions. Yet concludes Jesus is the answer every time. To Aaron, everything was about God because God was the only thing worth being about. I started re-evaluating myself and found myself missing something.

And then there was charismatic, fun-loving Edward. Edward was instantly liked by everyone he met. He was kind, funny, and brought life where ever he went. Even some of the staff that didn’t get along super well were soon getting along when Edward was there. He united the whole group. He was genuinely excited to be at camp, but nothing got him more excited than talking about Jesus. He was eager to learn and love. And it was contagious. During his testimony at staff training (we all took turns sharing in morning devos), he shared that he had only been a Christian for 8-months. Eight months? I was shocked. How could such a “perfect” Christian be less than a year old? He finished his testimony with these words, the words that haunted me, “I don’t know that much about the Bible. I don’t know every story or every person. I don’t know every technical term or definition. But I know the gospel.”

At first these words confused me. The bible and the gospel where the same thing, right? As I reflected and battled with these words I realized that I knew the Bible and Christianity, but I didn’t know the gospel. Unlike Edward, I hadn’t felt the freedom of sin lifted. I hadn’t felt that peace. I hadn’t felt, as Aaron concluded, that Jesus is the only thing worth being about. I was following the Bible and Christianity more than I was following Jesus and the Spirit. No wonder I couldn’t share Jesus with people at MIZZOU — I only really knew about religion.

I firmly believe that I was saved at this time, but God was definitely working a in my life at this time. Looking back, he was very gracious. He gave me good friends who loved Him, but more than that, he gave me some people to help and some people to help me. I am the type of person that feels useless if I am not helping people, and there were some staff members who really did need support. (I probably put too much of my worth and pride in helping others, but that is a discussion for another time). Because I have focused so much of my life on being the person who helps others, I never really had asked any elder for guidance. The College Staff Supervisors at camp where some of the most amazing people I had ever met. They were in the process of raising support to be missionaries in Africa, and they were hoping to move oversees by September of that year. Yet in their fundraising process, they completely poured themselves our for the 65+ college staff that summer. By June, I was calling them mom and dad. I talked with my camp mom about the spiritual struggles I was going through. I wanted God to speak to me the way He spoke to her, but I felt like he was always silent. I told her I felt like God wasn’t doing anything in my life or using me (and I really wanted to be useful). I told her that I didn’t like how boring my testimony was (I mean come on, “I grew up in church and don’t remember when I was saved” is never a crowd favorite).

Camp mom really challenged me. She told me that I should be thankful God has spared me from having an “interesting testimony” for that oftentimes comes with pain beyond imagining. She challenged me to know God, not just know about the Bible. She gave me the book Experiencing God, and I was struck by the words, “God is more interested in you getting to know him rather than you doing things for him” and “God is already working around you. Pray that he would show you where to join his work”. These ideas had never been stated to me so plainly. It isn’t about doing things for God and being the perfect Christian girl who helps all the other lost sheep. It is just about knowing and loving God.

By the end of the summer, I felt rejuvenated. I had the months of community (people to walk with, people to help lead, and people helping to lead me). God had even provided new housing at MIZZOU through one girl I had met at camp. I would be living in the Christian Campus House for my last semester at school. God seemed to be a provider for the first time in my life.

But my new found enthusiasm didn’t last long at school. After all, if it is all about knowing God, how the heck do you do that?

3. Empty and Unequipped

This post belongs to a series on the inner mess of my mind. If this seems at all interesting, begin by reading “1. Uncovering the Mess”. Welcome.

#1) I could follow God with everything, he could take everything and leave me with nothing just to give himself glory.

#2) It is kind of selfish of God to make everything about him.

#3) Is God really worth it?

Those were the thoughts we left off with. Let’s start with #1. I really began wrestling with this thought after finishing my first year at Mizzou. The summer prior attending Mizzou was one of the hardest of my life. I was counseling at an adventure camp and was working 24/7 with high school students that I wanted to adopt so they didn’t have to go home after camp. What made this summer particularity hard was the other counselors. I was excluded from the inner group and there were no mentors to help us counselors. It was a summer of constant giving and physical exertion in the 110 degree Branson weather with nothing getting poured back into me. I was changed by that summer. My cup was completely dry, and I was hurt that Christian counselors could be so exclusive.  So, worn and slightly self-conscious, I began my first semester at Mizzou.

As I have shared on this blog before college was nothing like what I expected it to be. Academically, school went well. But every other aspect was miserable. I did not make a single lifelong friend and felt very discouraged every semester I was there. The Christian groups were clicky. Or worse — stagnant. One small group I was a part of my first year was full of girls who did either did not want to be vulnerable or who would refuse to change. It seemed like no one really wanted to seek God. This was completely discouraging. I was not expecting to feel so discouraged or isolated after joining a Christian group.

Like many would guess the non-Christians I met were equally discouraging. I was prepared for brokenness and depravity attending at 35,000 student, secular university. What I was not prepared for was the acceptance of misery — or what I perceived as misery. A girl I knew was sleeping with a guy she really liked, but she knew he did not like her. She knew he was using her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just accepted it. Others regularly got drunk and high. I had assumed people like this would seem lost — searching for that one thing to make them whole again. And the bright-eyed, Christian counselor I was would be able to pour Jesus into their brokenness and they would stop having sex and doing drugs and they would be happy. But I quickly realized these people were not sitting around pining after something they were missing. They accepted life. And more surprising — they seemed to already be happy. Given, it was school and everyone was miserable, but if these people were broken, they did not know it.

How was I supposed to show Jesus to these people? They would see no need for him. I first needed them to see how miserable they were so they would want a healer. I felt completely unequipped to share the gospel with these people. I had no spiritual leaders to turn to. No christian friends I could talk to or have pray over me. I confess, I did not pray for these people as much as I should have, but I felt completely lost during this time. I still firmly believed that following Jesus was the only right way to live at this point in my life, but I had no idea how to show that.

So while I was at Mizzou I was left alone. I did not want to go out to bars with my non-Christian friends, but when I went out with the Christians — if I was even invited — I felt even lonelier than if I would have just stayed home. I found no one who was willing to be vulnerable. No one who wanted to know me or share themselves. No one who really wanted God to transform them. No one who was willing to take the new girl under their wing. No one who wanted to grow. I am sure true Christians who were seeking God exist at Mizzou, but I did not experience them. I became very reclusive. I stayed in my dorm room most of the time I was not in class. I studied in my room alone. Watched Netflix in my room alone. Read in my room alone. And oftentimes, ate in my room alone. I knew I needed to make friends, and I did try. I really tried. I went out when I could muster the energy. I would introduce myself. I would meet people. I would make small talk as my mind was trying to determine what time I could leave without seeming weird. In the year I was a part of one Christian group no one asked how I was doing or if they could pray for me.

I tried turning to my very close friends I had made in my hometown, but everyone seemed too busy. They had moved on to other colleges or other relationships or other people who needed more help. I had gone to Mizzou determined to help people and found myself in a position of desperately needing help. And no one was there. No one even noticed. I became very depressed. I just wanted someone to realize how hurt I was. I would pray and pray for God to give me one friend. Just one friend who could listen and be with me. Just one who I could laugh with and grow with. A few times I thought he had answered me, but every time I was wrong.

By the end of my second semester, I felt like a shell. I had lost a vibrance I once had. I had always thought of myself as the helper not the one who needed help. A normal person might just go to their parents or close childhood friends and say, “I’m completely lost and broken and I need you to pray for me and be there for me because I am so alone.” But I have been afraid of being needy my whole life. I have tried so hard not to be emotional. I didn’t want to be one of those girls who plays the victim or who tries to get attention with sob stories. So my cries for help were small and barley noticeable. I wanted someone to deduce how empty I felt. Someone through divine intervention to know just the words to say to make be feel better or make me open up. This did not happen.

I was so empty I lost all hope the second semester. I always went to class because that’s just the kind of person I am, but some days I would not leave my dorm for anything else — no even to eat. Some days I would walk through the food courts and choose not to eat. People have thought that I was anorexic before just because of how skinny I am. Of course I’m not. I have never had poor body image. My choice not to eat had nothing to do with how I looked. It had everything to do with how I felt. I thought maybe someone would finally see something was not right. But no one did. I would hint that I wasn’t eating to friends, but they never noticed the subtleties as pleas for help. This “not eating” phase did not last long because I have a logical brain, and I knew how stupid it was. Also I love food. But the point remains — I was not doing okay.

It sounds like I had given up on God at this point, but I hadn’t. I was reading my Bible more than I ever had. I was pleading with God a regular basis. I was recording three blessings every day. I was writing and rewriting the promises of God over and over. I still felt alone and ignored by God. I felt like God had taken every good thing from me. From community to even my personality. I still believed that he was good. He had shown me that my first summer at camp. And this is when the thought entered my mind: I could give God everything, serve him with everything I have, and I could always be left empty. I thought of all the people who had died for Christ. I thought of Job (yes I’ve read the end, but I was focusing more at the beginning). I thought of how much I wanted community. How much I wanted to have a family one day. How much I wanted to be a stay at home mom. Or How much I wanted to travel. And I realized God could decide to never give those things to me just so that He would have to be enough.

I went back to camp that summer. I was completely empty, but after reading 2 Corinthians I felt compelled to go. It was a good summer full of good people, and I had a mentor I looked up to. That summer at camp changed my life again, and this time by one sentence that has perturbed me ever since.

Dish Duty

I thinks it’s easy to go online and see beautiful pictures of perfect people on mountain tops. Or hear stories of couples going on grand adventures. I think almost everyone wants an adventure in one way or another. I am one of those people. Or so I thought.

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I just got back from Adventure Kamp. I flew a plane, went scuba diving, rappelled kids off a 300 foot bluff, taught countless survival classes, built a water proof shelter out of sticks, leaves and vine, killed, cleaned, and cooked a rabbit, hiked in rain, sun, cold, and hot, found my way with a compass, prepared devos and tried my best to counsel the great kids I had, slept in a hammock 33 nights of the summer, saw the milky way, watched 35 shooting stars during my fire watch at 2 in the morning, and killed a copper head. Six hours of sleep a night, cooking, taking photo and video, driving, teaching, and counseling. It a summer of firsts. First time in a small plane. First time cliff bluffing. First time being a counselor. First time navigating an airport. First time camping. First time backpacking.

And yet, it all felt very unspectacular. It wasn’t that it was because it was my job or that I was overtired (although both would have been true). No, it was something else. How could I go on such wonderful adventures and it feel so ordinary? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had the wrong idea about what adventure meant.

~an unusual and exciting experience or activity~

~to engage in hazardous and exciting activity, especially the exploration of unknown territory~

After this summer I realized I could go everywhere, do everything, learn everything, be everything I wanted to be, but still be empty. This summer, I went on journey. An exploration. And what I discovered? I really need community. People to experience life with. People to share struggles with. People to take in a moment with. To laugh with and cry with. The more I thought about it, I’ve had adventure upon adventure washing dishes with my small group back home. Or explore my home town with my besties.

Yes, I long for adventure, but even deeper than that, I long for connection. And I’d rather share a mundane life with people than have the grandest of adventures alone. I hope to make life my adventure. No matter where I am or what I’m doing. So here’s to life. And here’s to loving people.

 

Big Dreams, Big God

About four months ago, I thought it would be a good idea to look into my summer plans. I knew I would have to work in Missouri (for residency reasons), and I knew that a camp was my first choice. So naturally I turned to the internet. I googled “Christian camps Missouri”, and I clicked on the first result: Kanakuk. After looking into the camp, I got really excited about working there. Their summer staff includes over 2,000 college students. That’s quite different from the 65 at the camp I work at now.

I browsed through their positions and was really excited to see the words ‘Adventure Kamp’ (Kanakuk spells anything with camp with a K). Now this isn’t just any kamp. This adventure camp includes three parts: scuba, aviation, and survival. This means scuba diving in Florida, learning how to fly planes, and surviving out in the wilderness. I knew that was the job I wanted. After a promising first general interview, I got a call from the head of the Adventure Kamp series and got the news: you have to be 21 to work adventure staff.

When I heard those words over the phone, I started crying and I realized how much I wanted that job. It felt right. I was super disappointed, but I had hopes of working adventure staff later on. The phone call ended with assurance that I would get a regular counselor position and the final word would be in February. I got over my disappointment, deciding to trust God’s timing and plan. Normally, not knowing what I would be doing over the summer would stress me out a lot, but I really felt that God would work everything out for the best. Meantime, I focused on growing closer to God and relying on him for strength in school as I went through the motions of everyday life.

A week ago, I was feeling really discouraged on my drive to school. Usually I pray for different people on my drive, but that particular day, I prayed “God, I’m really discouraged. You’re a big God and I need something big to encourage me today.” I felt a bit sheepish at praying such a bold prayer. Little did I realize how big of a God I serve. That afternoon I got another call from Kanakuk. Seeing the name of the Adventure staff director pop up on my phone, I froze not wanting to get my hopes up. I answered the phone. “Hello Samantha, I was wondering if you were still interested in being a counselor for adventure camp?” I explained that I wasn’t 21, and so I wasn’t able to be a counselor. That’s when I heard the news, “We still have one female staff position that we need to fill, and it’s yours if you want it.” WHAT??? I could barely contain my excitement, still hardly believing it.

 

But in order to accept this offer, God still had to work one more miracle. I was enrolled in 17 credits, but needed 20 to graduate. I needed 3 more credits somehow. Frantically I considered my options: I could CLEP a course or take an 8 week class. In order to sign up for another class, I needed to get the college’s permission. So I made my appointment, met with an adviser, filled out the paperwork and waited. I wrote in my journal, “everything about this job is so impossible that if it works out, the whole thing was God.” Well, it all worked out.

I AM GOING ON ADVENTURE CAMP

How faithful is God? Seriously. He proves his goodness over and over again. Don’t think your plans are too big for God. He is so so much bigger than my deepest hopes. Who would think that I would ever learn how to fly a plane or scuba dive? Or get to go on adventures for Christ? Or get to teach kids about Jesus for a job?

Psalm 37:4

Delight yourself in the Lord,
    and he will give you the desires of your heart.

Jeremiah 29:11-14

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.  I will be found by you,”