I love summer, I really do. It seems that this is always a time of year when I am stretched in the most wonderful ways. This being a transition summer, it is no exception. I am working at Camp Hebron, a Christian summer camp, and let me tell you, it is a BLAST! I love it here, and there is so much happening each and every day that I simply cannot wrap it all into a blog post. So, I shall give you the Cliffsnotes version of my summer - morsels, tidbits, and windows into my days:
The sun beats down on the back of my neck. I smile and nod while I listen to the the three others sitting next to me as we tell each other, bit by bit, our stories. We sweep paint brushes back and forth to the rhythm of the music that streams out of the speakers perched on the railing. The assignment is to stain a deck, but that is merely what our hands are doing. Conversation - it is easy to forget the power it holds, the bonds it can build. What a gift it is to share our stories.
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My back twinges in complaint at my bent posture as I walk back and forth along a narrow, ten yard stretch of asphalt. The discomfort is only a blip on my radar, however, as I am entranced by one tiny person who is leading me on this meandering little path. It is the week of Moms & Tots, and this tiny sweet girl holding on to my thumbs is one of my five charges every morning this week, the 0-12 months group - yep, babies. A soft smile of wonder is spread across my face while I listen to her animated babble. She analyzes the leaves and sticks that meet her perfect, round toes, then freezes. I follow her gaze in time to see the butterfly that has snatched away her attention, and marvel at the blessing it is to see the world through the simplicity of a baby's eyes.
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Thursday night worship, Mennonite Youth Convention, Phoenix, AZ. A speaker gives us her moving story of healed hurt, then invites us to be anointed as a symbol of our own healing. Some of us do, but it is what happens afterward that still fills my soul. We prayed. We sat, knelt, stood, hands outstretched, arms around each other, faces turned upward in a plea, eyes closed in reverence, and we prayed with one another. And we cried. We let the tears run down our faces in rivulets of fear and pain and frustration, gratefulness and hope and joy. We were raw together.
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I hold out teddy-grahams one by one to a blind camper during snack time. Answering a fellow counselor's question, I turn away for a moment only to feel the campers fingers delicately dance down my forearm to find the cracker in my hand. Seeing is so much more than our eyes, I reflect. We see with our touch, our instinct, our spirit - sometimes our eyes only get in the way.
So there you have it, my summer in snapshots. Little moments of clear sight, lessons learned, and growing done. I can't wait to see what awaits in the next four weeks.
