Camp is wrapped up for the year. Yet I find that it continues to impact my thinking. As we watch the Lego Movie uninterrupted with grandma in the quiet of our living room, I realized that "my kids" at camp were not Emmet, Wildstyle, Vitruvius or Unikitty. "My kids" were Batman, Badcop, and Benny with the possibility of a future Lord Business or Metalbeard thrown into the mix.
The lego movie would have been pretty bland without those totally unique personalities, and camp was no different. My last day I turned a corner to see two of "my kids" in tow of an unsmiling leader. Face paint was smeared across one and the other had the I'm-in-trouble-face set. We had to scrub the remnants of a Raphael paint job off of to see if there was swelling or bruising from being hit brass knuckles style by a hot wheels car wielded by the other.
The victory was that Raphael hadn't hit back. A little guy who has struggled all summer with anger management, and when I asked him how he had responded he sniffled back that he told the teacher. The leader nodded and a little part of me rejoiced that through the red and green tears he had held back the swinging fists.
But for every victory there is a set-back. As I asked the other camper what had happened the story started out "I hit him because it isn't fair that he has a cool face paint and I don't." Ouch. It also turns out that behind the jealousy there was annoyance at play styles with the cars, and after one encroachment too many that jealousy poured out in a violent way.
So we talked. We talked about how it isn't right to hit. We talked about patiently waiting for things (that includes your turn for face paint). And when I asked if he thought he could do that, I saw a head nod. I didn't expect more. But it was enough for me on that last Friday. So I had them sit there and I went and got my brushes and the last remnants of green facepaint.
When I sat down, I did two little faces instead of one. "Can I be Leonardo this time, he has a cool sword." "Yup" I answer reaching for blue instead of red. "Oh, he's my favorite too!" I see eyes widen. In the end I have two Leonardo's walking back to the room talking about blue being their favorite color and how cool it would be to have swords at camp.
Please no - hotwheels are dangerous enough, I think,
but I think it with a smile.
I miss my noodle-whacking, time-out-sitting crew a lot right now. But just as they added the variety to camp to keep it hopping, the quiet time now is needed in preparation for the next season of life. Seasons are real, they are good. For some reason God knows we need them. I may not want to be here right now in the change-over process, trying to think about school supply lists and figuring out calendars and start dates and open houses, but I need to be.
Seasons are so much easier when you embrace them instead of fighting them. I cannot turn the clock backwards or add months to the summer, so I need to look for the good in the next season. A season right now of both rest and transition. I need to allow myself the rest and I need to prepare for transition. Sometimes it is simply a matter of learning to wait - something I have never been incredibly good at.
Let's face it - there is very little waiting at camp.
High energy, high volume.
It exuded action and fun.
But I cannot do that all of the time, nor could our little ones.
School & structure may not be as enticing as the camp season. But it is needed.
There is good in change,
growth in change,
God is in change.
God is in control of our changing seasons.
A Time for Everything 1There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: 2a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, 3a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, 4a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, 5a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 6a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, 7a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, 8a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. 9What do workers gain from their toil?10I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race.11He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yetano one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.12I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.13That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. Ecclesiastes 3:1-13
After all - if one should wait patiently for face paint, perhaps one should wait for changing seasons as well.
There are a thousand topics I could choose tonight. The last week of camp lends itself to reflective thinking. I haven't yet started to look at the time ahead. While part of me does long for a few days of unscheduled rest, relaxation and cleaning up the house a bit, another part of me is decidedly not ready for camp to end.
When I was a kid I used to hope that a rock slide would take out the road to camp so that we could all stay there longer. Now I just wish that the last week of camp was next week. I've traded Seven Brides for Seven Brothers for simple procrastination.
But I am tired, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.
The reserves have bottomed out, for all of us.
And you can pour out like this - ifit is only for a season.
In my mind I know that the season needs to end.
But in my heart I will mourn it's passing a little bit.
I am home feeding the introvert that needs a quiet living room free from people and noise, while my co-workers are celebrating the end of the season. I've been surfing the web and social media and news of Robin Williams death, blogs on discouragement are cropping up. Discouragement, depression, the words ring a bell and tie into my thoughts.
Division,
Discredit,
Discouragement,
(there was a fourth "D" word that was given out at the beginning of the year in training, and I am too lazy to go retrieve my notebook and too tired to remember it.)
I could talk about how insanely fun camp has been. The things kids say, the practical jokes, duct tape, Pjs, costumes, face paint, and unexpected hugs that mean the world to you because they came from that one kid who has been distant and troubled all 8 weeks of camp, the one whose tough shell makes him hard to love - yeah, I got a hug from that kid today.
But in my very last post for this year I'm going to talk about the dark side of camp. Because it is real.
Division - it has been there. Not where I thought it would be, nor as strong. For the most part the staff gets along well, and the issues between two different aged camp programs have been handled between the leaders with only a few ripples from what I could see. Both groups seem to recognize the needs of the others and will often work together for the sake of the campers. Resources are shared, pathways are adjusted, bumps ironed out, understanding has been given, communication kept up, unkind remarks swallowed. The two camps work well. But there has been a skirmish going on between two parties where the unkind words and thoughts have not always been held back, on either side. And it hurts. It hurts because I see the struggles. And yeah, it stings a bit to watch. Because deep inside I know we are batting for the same team.
Division - it has hit us, but I will also say- that it has been a minor skirmish - not an all out war.
Discredit - When this was presented at the beginning of the year, it was stated that all it takes to end the work at camp, is for us to loose a camper. In a society that is media driven and prone to sensationalism there is truth in this. And several times this year I've watched situations come so close to unfolding, situations that could do irreparable damage. Some we have little control over, some bear re-thinking how we do things in the future, others will crop up that no one could have seen coming. The older I get the more I realize that there is this odd tightrope walk to life - doing what you can to reasonably keep your charges safe, and then trusting God. Trusting that God will keep the part that you can't cover (and that seems to get bigger every time I think about it) and trusting him when things go wrong to help you find the right path forward.
Discredit - I don't know if any darts that the Devil threw hit the bulls-eye and sunk deep, but I know that they were thrown this year, and if they bounced off - I'm thankful for a camp that does what it can on the tightrope and a God who fills in the vast space beyond that.
Discouragement - I've been here, part of me knows it is a weakness inherent in my "artistic personality". It is a stereotype, but there is a reason for the idea that creative people are prone to moodiness. The times when trying to find the good and the neat are really difficult because your mind is spinning on other deep issues, chewing at the things that are wrong, building the negatives into fortresses, worrying at concepts like a dog on a chew-toy. The days when the neat stuff with campers and staff just doesn't shine as brightly, the days where you skip worship time and hide, because of the shadows on the inside.
Discouragement - yeah, some of those darts have hit home, and I am pretty sure I am not alone.
Eventually, I've found the sun to shine brighter, for the meaning behind playing with legos and marbles with a couple of five year olds to come back into startling focus. The bug song to come on in the big room and to be drawn back into corporate worship because I find it comforting to know that God loves us stinky, squashed, creepy bugs with a big big love. To hear little voices singing Bible verses, and to find hope in that even if they have the words terribly mangled.
Yet I know that not every journey in depression is short. And I am aware that transition times, especially off of these spiritual high places are often places riddled with discouragement. When the reserves have been used, when you have poured out until there are only fumes left. When you have gone the distance, and then gone the distance again because God had a plan you didn't see. When it is over. The enemy is still on the prowl.
I remember coming back home from camp as a young teen. Back to stacking up the wood in the woodshed and mowing the lawn for the neighbors. Back to life that didn't resound with praise choruses and challenge with meticulously prepared messages. Back to the normalcy of regular old life. And I would fall into depression then. It would last for weeks, sometimes months, not days.
Depression isn't just a bout of discouragement. It is deeper, longer, stronger.
I fear I may walk a variation of that path again. It wouldn't be the first time.
I don't believe in coincidences. I don't believe that it is a coincidence that a celebrities death has sparked a surge of articles on this topic right at the time that a mountain top experience is about to drop me back to the valley below. No - I don't believe that it is all centering around myself- but that God is weaving a story where many threads touch and intertwine. There was a reason this topic is on my heart. And perhaps by opening up a bit, I can help others.
I've battled depression. It comes back to be battled again. And again. I've come perilously close to loosing the fight and ending my own life. I've walked that path. And while it has been a long time since it has been that bad, I do not have the confidence to say that it never will be again. There is no "cure" for depression, though there are tools that can be brought to weigh in the battle.
Some of those tools are medical
some of them are social
a few of them fall under life experience and maturity
some are physical
some are mental
and some may be spiritual
I want to share some tools that have helped me in the past and that I am throwing down here on paper to help reinforce the next few weeks. One is a Bible story, but I want to be clear on one thing. Depression doesn't go away just because you read a Bible story, or claim a verse, or read your Bible and pray daily.
Christians commit suicide just like other people do. (That includes practicing Christians.)
If the path gets really dark I pray you will look for every tool, every weapon that can be brought to bear, and that you will enlist the aid of family, friends, angels and strangers alike to give you aid.
I am drawn to the story of Elijah on Mt Carmel - a public challenge, a miraculous answer from God, revival on a national scale. You'd think that would be enough right? Nope - it all gets followed by a deluge - a miracle storm ending a season of drought with Elijah racing Ahab down the mountain. Elijah wins - he was on foot and Ahab was in a chariot. God used Elijah to show up the king time after time on that one day.
And after that great spiritual battle - Elijah is spent. He is drained, He is afraid. He is discouraged. He is tired. He is on the run.
And God sends respite, and care, and rest, and time away.
And
He
still
talks
to
Elijah.
He doesn't give up on him. He doesn't get mad that Elijah got worn down. He sent the still small voice.
It is a really cool story. I still don't understand all of it. And for me, it is encouraging. Encouraging because the Bible is about real people, and real people get discouraged. Real people battle depression. And they keep battling it. And sometimes they fail.
And God still talks to them.
Even when they cannot hear the still small voice.
Maybe my hope is not rooted in the ones who are hearing, but the one who is still trying to talk.
Another tool that I found particularly meaningful in some of my darkest days was a song.
The promise in this song became my own. The fact that another Christian had walked those steps, and not one who was spiritually immature, or weak, or turning their back on their faith, a real genuine Christian just like me (well, immensely more talented) a real Christian had been to the edge. And their visit there helped pull me back.
There are some lines in that song:
And realize that though my world
Might seem so torn apart
Most often it is joy that breaks the heart
Maybe it is easier to pick out the light when you occasionally sojourn in the land of the shadows.
Maybe it isn't a waste of blog space to look at the dark side of camp on the last week instead of writing about getting to play in costumes today (and yes there is a lot of funny stuff there - love love love being a stormtrooper - but you loose a lot of credibility when you have to sidle up the stairwell doing the "wide step waddle"), and yes explaining that I was not dressed up as Olaf - that too.) Or about how incredibly amazing my co-workers are (and they are. in so many ways that it boggles the mind.)
Maybe the fact that God seeks to be with us in the dark places, that he cares about us when we aren't paying attention to him because we are too wrapped up in our own troubles, maybe that idea will be helpful if you look back at your own view on the four "D's" that the adversary pulls out of the quiver and uses to wound us. In looking back at the battle scars and even the open wounds that have yet to heal.
My friends, we are all looking to a change. It may have rest, it may not.
But it is still the battle field.
God-speed and good hunting.
It has been a year of letting go of some life-long dreams to see what God will put in their place. [I wish I could say that letting go was all done graciously, but I'm afraid it was not all that way.]
I had this concept of what running a middle school youth group would look like. Lot's of energetic teens sitting eagerly in small groups to take in and talk about the Bible. Instead reality was a lot different. The energy is there, no doubt about that, but my idea of who God would send us to camp out in our living room - well - God blew me out of the water on that one. Kids from across town and across the spectrum, of all levels of ability and different places in life. From non-verbal autisim to athiest our group is nothing that I could have imagined. God has touched us through this group. And no they don't eagerly sit down to participate in small group discussions like I imagined, but they do eagerly take in videos about the Bible.
Oddly enough my work with our autistic student (and some healthy desperation after two years of looking for non-existent part-time educator positions) led me to a new career as a special needs aide. It was a job that I learned to love, but some dreams died the day I accepted the position. After wanting to be an astronaut, my second, and more reasonable, career choice has always been teaching. It was one of the things I felt I could do: even do well. And while my new job involved a lot of care-giving and learning, I can resolutely say that it involved no teaching. I might work in education, but I am not an educator right now. And God has brought me peace about that. because it is where I am supposed to be at least for this season.
And finally looking to camp. When I applied, I applied to Camp Vertical (2nd - 5th grade) not Camp Zoom (4-6yrs). For someone who thought they would be teaching high school science, pre-school is a stretch. But I knew I didn't want to float around the edges of camp again this year - so when the offer came, and it was Zoom - I took it. I am sure that my thoughts were along the lines that I would probably serve a year there, hopefully be asked back and move on to the older program.
I had no idea what I would learn about myself and camp after a summer spent in the pre-school program.
Could I thrive in the older age range - probably, but I also now see some issues there that I didn't before. My age, personality, and background seems to lend itself to being the camp "enforcer". The time out bench is often my domain. And the cool thing about that has been the relationships that have been forged at that bench. One of the things that continually amaze me is that the campers who sit there are also the ones that seek me out to sit by me in large group or give me a hug when they come in each morning. Those connections are priceless beyond measure.
But I look at that domain and in Zoom there are other momma bears to share that load. It gives a foundation to a program with a few more tricks that the span of years has brought, the patience that staying up nights with infants (or teens), the shared experiences of having our own children "on the spectrum", the invaluable steel of the "mom voice" - that no-nonsence "nah-ah" that means you will stop this behavior now, laughing together with a friend that holds my respect and trust as we roll up the bouncy castle, and the glances over the heads of campers that give the security that we are in this as a team.
The visible part of camp function falls to teens and twenty-somethings that I have grown to respect and love this summer. They tackle camp with an energy that is long gone for me, and with skills that I either don't have, or am rusty with. There is no way I could choreograph motions to a song in under five minutes. I struggle figuring out which place to press on the ipods at check-out, and far after my own touch-meter has overflowed - they are still willing to give out piggy back rides and hugs. They lead worship with enthusiasm and joy and to any parents reading this - please know that they care genuinely about the little ones in their charge. This is far far more than a summer job for them - it truly is ministry.And they are good at it.
Then there is my chosen age group, the teens and pre-teens that I thought I wouldn't get to work with. They are alongside in the trenches - they keep the non-visible part of camp running. Lunch boxes and snacks get to where they are going because of these kids (and that IS a very big deal). They set-up, tear down, and often learn as they go about how camp runs. In a few years they will fill the ranks as staff instead of volunteers, but for now I am simply loving the quirkiness and energy of students that still need direction from us, who aren't quite there as far as leadership, but who are growing leaps and bounds every day. In many ways I feel that middle schoolers are ripe for spiritual growth spurts - and I love watching that process happen.
The little ones - yep they teach me more than I am often willing to admit. Resilience, humor (when do we loose that?), joy, curiosity, interdependence on others, readiness to forgive. . . . my summer has been overflowing with lessons from these little lives. Under the guise of helping to run a program for them to have fun and learn about God's story, they are the ones who are teaching, and I am the student. It is role reversal of the best type.
What I am left with is the incomprehensible feeling that as well as I thought I knew myself, God has known better. Standing in the scraps of my broken goals and dreams I have found a place that has touched me more than I could have thought possible. What I didn't think was a good fit, God has used greatly in my own life.
So Camp Zoom - all the people that the title means - Thank you - I've come home.
And God, thanks for turning on the porch light that I didn't know was my own.
