Thursday, August 6, 2009
Ahhhhh! For the past 7 weeks of my life, I've been working at a small, rustic camp in a small, country town in southern Virginia, and that is all I have to say. Had I any idea what I would be getting myself into, I might have thought twice about accepting the position, but I was young and naive then. So, here I am 7 weeks older, and ready to spill all the dirty details of my time at camp!
The first week we spent getting the camp cleaned up and ready for the rest of the summer. This included moving 8,000- let me repeat: 8,000- expired bottles of gatorade that had been graciously donated to the camp by another organization. Of course, wouldn't you know that the day we had to move the gatorade, God would make it rain. I've always said there's no better way to start off a summer of camp than drenched in water, sweat, and mud! (Actually, I've never said that until now.) Anyways, being that none of us workers knew each other, it was an awkwardly silent week, which only added to the intimidation I already felt.
Of the group, I was the least experienced. I had never worked at a camp before, I had only finished my first year of school, and had no clue what I was doing. I felt overwhelmed. It was on one of these days that God brought me to Psalm 127 where it says, "Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it; unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman stays awake in vain." I realized that if I relied on my own efforts to get me through the summer, I would be defeated. God was calling me to trust Him and rely on Him for strength. If I wanted anything to be done successfully, I had to be fully dependent on Him. When I realized this, I gained such a peace. I no longer had to worry about being the youngest or the least experienced. I didn't have to worry about anything, because God was in charge, not me. (Later would I learn that I was not the youngest, nor the only one who felt like they didn't know what they were doing.)
That first week we spent with the camp manager and her husband and her 12 year old daughter. When we (the other 2 girl counselors and I) hopped into the truck with this lady and her daughter, the first words to me from this girl were, "Do you like chickens?" I guess it would be helpful for you to know that fowl frighten me. Yes, to my own admittance and embarrassment, I am afraid of birds. (Why is a long story that I have no time to go into if I am to explain all the happenings of more than a month, so I will leave that for another day and entry.) So, when I recieved this question, I nervously smiled and chuckled it off, hoping she wasn't looking for a serious answer. She then proceeded to tell me all about the pet chickens that she had at home that she would love to show us. Being in a small, rural town, I guess I shouldn't have been as shocked and suprised when we pulled onto a dirt road leading to their farm, but, like I said, I was young and naive. As soon as we got out of the truck, we were led to the side of the house where the chickens are. This girl let out all of the chickens (about a dozen of them), picked one up, and brought it over to us to pet. I could imagine in my mind the bird snapping off my finger with its beak as I reached to pet it, but I gulped down my heart that was now in my throat, and reached out to pet it anyways. It didn't bite me; it didn't even look at me. Praise the Lord, I was safe! We then proceeded into the house, manouvering over about 40 cats (no exaggeration there. seriously: 40 cats). I guess it would also be nice to inform you that I am moderately allergic to cats. It was then that I knew that God had a sense of humor to send me to a place where I had to try my hardest to avoid cats and chickens!
The first official week of camp was awesome. We had some great directors come in. They really had a great vision for the week and had worked really hard on preparing everything before the week started. They assigned each of us one Bible study lesson to teach during the week and a class to teach each day. One group of us taught an acting class and was given a list of objectives and activities. Another pair taught an improv class and was given the same thing. I was one of the luck pair who got to teach the "creative movement" class. Now, I know you can't see me from your computer screen, but I promise you, I am white inside and out, and there aint no way I will ever be able to move creatively, much more teach others to! We were given no objectives, no activities, no nothing. We were told to give the kids samples of music and ideas on what they could do to the music, and let them create a routine to perform for the parents at the end of the week. Luckly, understanding the position she had put us in, the director helped out the class a lot, and the kids came up with some great ideas and routines. All in all, it was a sucessful very-first-week-ever as camp couselor. We ended the week ready for the weekend, but eager to know what the next week would bring. Had we know what it did bring, we would not have been so eager...
TO BE CONTINUED!
The first week we spent getting the camp cleaned up and ready for the rest of the summer. This included moving 8,000- let me repeat: 8,000- expired bottles of gatorade that had been graciously donated to the camp by another organization. Of course, wouldn't you know that the day we had to move the gatorade, God would make it rain. I've always said there's no better way to start off a summer of camp than drenched in water, sweat, and mud! (Actually, I've never said that until now.) Anyways, being that none of us workers knew each other, it was an awkwardly silent week, which only added to the intimidation I already felt.
Of the group, I was the least experienced. I had never worked at a camp before, I had only finished my first year of school, and had no clue what I was doing. I felt overwhelmed. It was on one of these days that God brought me to Psalm 127 where it says, "Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it; unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman stays awake in vain." I realized that if I relied on my own efforts to get me through the summer, I would be defeated. God was calling me to trust Him and rely on Him for strength. If I wanted anything to be done successfully, I had to be fully dependent on Him. When I realized this, I gained such a peace. I no longer had to worry about being the youngest or the least experienced. I didn't have to worry about anything, because God was in charge, not me. (Later would I learn that I was not the youngest, nor the only one who felt like they didn't know what they were doing.)
That first week we spent with the camp manager and her husband and her 12 year old daughter. When we (the other 2 girl counselors and I) hopped into the truck with this lady and her daughter, the first words to me from this girl were, "Do you like chickens?" I guess it would be helpful for you to know that fowl frighten me. Yes, to my own admittance and embarrassment, I am afraid of birds. (Why is a long story that I have no time to go into if I am to explain all the happenings of more than a month, so I will leave that for another day and entry.) So, when I recieved this question, I nervously smiled and chuckled it off, hoping she wasn't looking for a serious answer. She then proceeded to tell me all about the pet chickens that she had at home that she would love to show us. Being in a small, rural town, I guess I shouldn't have been as shocked and suprised when we pulled onto a dirt road leading to their farm, but, like I said, I was young and naive. As soon as we got out of the truck, we were led to the side of the house where the chickens are. This girl let out all of the chickens (about a dozen of them), picked one up, and brought it over to us to pet. I could imagine in my mind the bird snapping off my finger with its beak as I reached to pet it, but I gulped down my heart that was now in my throat, and reached out to pet it anyways. It didn't bite me; it didn't even look at me. Praise the Lord, I was safe! We then proceeded into the house, manouvering over about 40 cats (no exaggeration there. seriously: 40 cats). I guess it would also be nice to inform you that I am moderately allergic to cats. It was then that I knew that God had a sense of humor to send me to a place where I had to try my hardest to avoid cats and chickens!
The first official week of camp was awesome. We had some great directors come in. They really had a great vision for the week and had worked really hard on preparing everything before the week started. They assigned each of us one Bible study lesson to teach during the week and a class to teach each day. One group of us taught an acting class and was given a list of objectives and activities. Another pair taught an improv class and was given the same thing. I was one of the luck pair who got to teach the "creative movement" class. Now, I know you can't see me from your computer screen, but I promise you, I am white inside and out, and there aint no way I will ever be able to move creatively, much more teach others to! We were given no objectives, no activities, no nothing. We were told to give the kids samples of music and ideas on what they could do to the music, and let them create a routine to perform for the parents at the end of the week. Luckly, understanding the position she had put us in, the director helped out the class a lot, and the kids came up with some great ideas and routines. All in all, it was a sucessful very-first-week-ever as camp couselor. We ended the week ready for the weekend, but eager to know what the next week would bring. Had we know what it did bring, we would not have been so eager...
TO BE CONTINUED!
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