The End is the End

I was preparing to leave. Been salivating over the blissful thought the entire fourth session. Would I be sad to leave this magical place? Had I experienced countless blessed moments? Certainly. But I was exhausted. Wearily spun into emotionally seasick circles.

Then a funny thing happened on the way to the life boat.

I describe my decision to stay an optional week for starter camp as influenced by “prayer and peer pressure.” Staying was always in the back of my mind, but I needed the push from other people. A heavy push from God.

I was so tired. My wandering soul can only take so much in one place. I was ready to close this chapter. Ready to move on and wander once more.

I was ready to go home.

But God wasn’t as ready.

The End is the Beginning

It was quite the 4th quarter decision to stay an additional week. My mind and soul had been set on an epic champagne locker room shower, only to have an interception returned for a TD as time expired.

I apologize if you don’t understand that sports metaphor. I don’t either really.

I entered this new beginning of a session as ready as could be. Only the two youngest tribes would be attending starter camp, so I’d be stepping down from 12-13 year-olds to 10-11 year-olds. Would I really be able to adjust?

Change is in the Air

In addition to changing age groups for the week, I’d also be changing cabins and co-counselors. It was emotional saying goodbye to Cabin 11. In many ways, it felt wrong to trade my bed in that cabin for a bed in another. Even wronger to trade my awesome co-counselor for another (although I loved my new one too).

All the changes made me feel like I was engaging in some heinous form of betrayal to the rest of the summer. But seeing this new batch of kids filled me with new life.

They were smaller. They were spunkier. And they were all newcomers, so they had no idea what they were getting into. Hardly a couple hours passed before me and my new co-counselor were already receiving the highest accolades from them. Apparently, we were the — and I quote — “best counselors in camp.”

Yeah. I’d be okay.

Quickie Memories

• Watching 70+ kids start out knowing absolutely nothing about how camp works. They had no idea how to play foursquare or what any of the bugle calls meant. A bit humorous, but such a powerful parallel to my own ineptitude with God sometimes.
• PAINT WARS. Easily one of my favorite activities of the entire summer. Everyone donned a plain white undershirt, and counselors basically chased down campers with washable paint. If tie-dye were a game, we played it quite well.
• An epic pirate-war at sea! Camp translation: hopping into kayaks/canoes and firing kickball-cannons at each other while speaking with lots of “arrrrrrs.”
• Our only campout was canceled due to rain. Inclement weather never deterred any of our other campouts this summer, but I suppose the goal of starter camp is to actually get the kids to want to come back next year and not recoil in fear over the thought of huddling underneath a tarp all night. So I completely support the decision not to camp in the miserable rain. Something else I support? Having a camp-wide movie night and watching The Prince of Egypt instead.

The End is the End

I still vividly recall the last night of starter camp. My last night at camp this summer. I’d gotten “out” in a dodgeball-type game, and as I sat on the floor with counselors and kids running about, smiles painted everywhere, I couldn’t help thinking that this was what it was all about.

Why didn’t I see more of this in the “real” world? What if this was the real world and everything else out there — unemployment, depression, uncertainty, hatred — was the lie? It suddenly hit me that I was actually leaving this place the next day. And instead of feeling ready to leave, I felt a strange sadness to be leaving this place behind. Maybe forever.

All summer long kids asked if I’d be back next year. It was painful to tell them I had no idea. In my heart, I long to see them again. To see them a year older, a year taller, a year manlier, a year godlier, a year further along the path God’s crafted just for them. I want nothing more than to reunite with them again someday.

I learned this summer that it’s not about me. I entered the summer expecting to gain a lot for myself, and training week totally ruined that selfish mindset. It wasn’t until that first group of kids entered my cabin that I finally saw what it was all about. Others. Not me.

Funny thing though: by focusing on others so much, I did indeed gather a ton from the summer. Gaining by losing, freedom by surrender, etc. Jesus loves paradox.

I pray those kids are never the same. I certainly won’t be.

For the last time this summer: Trout out.

– Traveling Golden Trout