The Mouse That Roared

This job is hard.

My bunk has eleven girls, fourteen if you count the counselors (all of which are brand new to this). One of my girls had lice, which we’ve already gone over. One has a form of epilepsy which causes her to go stiff and fall backwards to the ground. If you don’t catch her, she will hit her head, and she just had brain surgery in May. Since that surgery, she hadn’t had a single episode. Until yesterday. When she had five, not including the one she had last night. All of these were on my watch, and I wasn’t there to catch her once. We also have the age group drama queen/troublemaker, the girl who learns everyone’s secrets and spreads them, who knows exactly what buttons to push, who wants to be Queen and so she fights for it. And tonight, on my night off, when all I want is to go get ice cream with people who I think are becoming my friends, they go and leave me. It’s also been raining for five days straight, so the entire camp is one big puddle of mud.

It’s happening all over again. I’m so stressed out. I’m almost ready to cry.

I knew this job was going to be hard. And I still know that it’s where God wants me. But I feel like I have no support here; I feel like there’s nothing but me and my own diligence holding me up, and that’s just not enough right now. It’s only the fourth day and I’ve been reduced to tears.

And yet, my Abba is still in charge. I read this today in My Utmost for His Highest:

We are not here to work for God because we have chosen to do so, but because God has “laid hold of” us. And once He has done so, we never have this thought, “Well, I’m really not suited for this.” What you are to preach is also determined by God, not by your own natural leanings or desires. Keep your soul steadfastly related to God, and remember that you are called not simply to convey your testimony but also to preach the gospel.

And today, I sat down with about six of my eleven girls and shared Jesus with them.

I don’t even know how it happened. But all of a sudden, they were sitting on my bed, telling me what they thought about God, life, where we come from, what holiness and religion are. And while some of them (all of them) still have a lot to learn in terms of holding a real, adult, intellectual conversation (they are only 12 afterall), it was so fruitful.

Pretty much all of them are Jewish, and they don’t really know anything about Christ. And so one of my girls, Emily, who sleeps on the bed next to me, while we were walking to dinner, turned to me and said “When we get back, will you tell me about the New Testament?” And after dinner, I got to tell them some about who I think Christ is, why he came, what he did for me, and what he does for me. It’s only the fourth day.

That morning I had prayed. I had read that and cried, not knowing how on earth I would ever be able to blatantly share Jesus with my girls when it was such a fragile topic. But no, God opened that door wide, wide open. They’re interested in my Bible, they were looking through it, they want to know about the New Testament, they want to read it. Amelia wants one of her own so she can read it, but she’s afraid her parents will freak out. But isn’t Jesus amazing! Isn’t God’s Word so powerful?

I’m still tired. And I’m still stressed. And I still feel, in a sense, unwanted and uncared for here. But God’s hand is on me, and he is working. I’m going to be all right here. But I do need help. Lord, do I need help.

Today, my girls got lice.

No joke. Everyone had to strip their beds, everyone had to get their hair scrubbed. Only one girl had the actual bugs, but it was just a big hassle that took so much out of me. It’s not even 11pm as I write this, and I am exhausted. 50 more days. Is it bad that I’m counting down?

Don’t get me wrong, I love being here. And I love my girls. I really mean it, too. Prayer works, and I have proof because I am already head over for my eleven ladies. Last night I started tearing up because I realized how much love exists between my Creator and myself, and how that love translates to this world. He speaks to me. He really does. This morning and last, I learned all about grace, and how necessary it is when dealing with other people. No where is this more true than when dealing with children (your own or otherwise). At least, such is what I can tell from my own experience.

I need eyes of Christ, to see them as the beloved of my Abba. I need God to break my hands, so that I hold everything loosely. I LOVE that. Hold everything loosely. Just think about what that would mean, if we held everything with a soft grip. Keep it from falling, but completely compliant when it is taken from you. My free time is practically gone. And for those of you who know me, I need lots and lots of ME time in order to refresh and rejuvinate. But nowadays, I’m learning to rely on the Word, on prayer, to be my Me time. Me as in me and the One Who Made Me.

This will be good. The Lord has given me a joy from an unknown source. When things go badly, like when we all have to get scrubbed for lice, all I’ve been able to do is laugh and be silly, sing songs and play games. It’s remarkable. And it has nothing to do with me.

I’m super tired. I’m going to go find the movie that’s supposedly playing around these parts and veg out for the next two hours.

A Self Portrait

A plain piece of paper
Drawn upon
     with invisible ink.

If you look closer
You can see
     faint pink lines

Where the brush
Was almost
     too afraid to go.

To see clearly,
You must hold me
     up to the Light.

Well. I’m at camp.

It’s been interesting so far. The beds aren’t that comfortable, there’s barely room to breathe in the showers, and the bugs are everywhere. But I’m really liking it so far. I know it sounds cliche, but so far, I’ve been meeting some really neat people. My body is still adjusting to the schedule, with wakeup being, at the latest, 7:30 in the morning, and with meals being so rigidly scheduled, but that will come in time.

I’m working on the newsletter, and I spent a good part of today sweeping out the cabin, throwing out old trash, and all of that good stuff. And, I found a birds’ nest in the window sill, with four baby robins in it. I’ve named one of them Buttercup. I’ll take suggestions for the rest of the birdies. I don’t really like birds so much, but I figure I can raise these ones to leave their bloodthirsty ways behind them. They’re adorably ugly at the moment. I will keep you all updated.

This is going to be a good summer, I can tell. And I know that God is going to do good, amazing things with the next two weeks. Most of the kids coming are super rich. We were joking about this before I came, but really, one year, one of the kids was flown in on a helicopter- no joke. These are the children of CEO’s of Sony and NBC, et cetera, et cetera. And most of them are Jewish, which is slightly intimidating, because that faith is so deeply rooted in habit and family and culture. But Jesus will be here. He told me so.

I don’t have much free time left, and I think I had something else to say. But I can’t remember. OH! Lots of boys with accents. It’s fabulous.

I wonder sometimes why I have so much trouble when I try to be an adult. I make so many mistakes, and I do so many things wrong. And I try, I really try so hard to do things right. But somehow, it never works out and people just end up mad at me.

We aren’t born with the inherant ability to know everything, or to do everything right all the time. Buy why do I mess up so much? I want to be independant, but I don’t know how. I get too far ahead of myself, because I’m afraid of being chased, I’m afraid of being behind. And then I just do stupid things that no person with any ounce of sense would do.

I’m off to cry in the shower.

Me to mom.
Mom to dad.
Dad to uncle.
Uncle to aunt.
Aunt to cousin.
Cousin to…

tick.
tick.
boom.

The chain of gossip burns like fire, and is twice as fast. Whoa, buddy, this’ll be interesting.

In other news, I was at my uncle’s today for my cousin’s birthday. And apparently, the 13 year old has pictures of me in her room, and her mother says that I’m her hero.

I kind of like that. I mean, not only is it great for my ego, but I mean, if I can have a positive impact on her, then there’s hope for the summer.

I leave Cincinnati for two months in less than twelve hours. And it is killing me.

Well, perhaps that’s a bit dramatic. But when left to my own thoughts, it hurts. I don’t want to go. I mean, I want to, because I have faith that God is placing me where he wants me, even if the faith hurts sometimes. But I can’t help but feel that I am going to go, and then when I come back, things are going to be different. And I don’t know how, and I don’t know why I feel this way. But I’m afraid of the change.

I might have said goodbye to Fauxhawk tonight for the last time. He might be gone off to missionary school or whatever by the time I get back, and then he’s off to the Ukraine. And I hate goodbyes. They should be easier for those assured of a reunion in the Kingdom, but it’s really, really not.

If you lead me, Lord, I will follow.

I thought it was easy to go, until it came down to the actual going.

A list of my Loves, dated from before Spring Break.

1. Jesus
2. the obvious people
3. stories that make my heart burn
4. singing loudly
5. beauty
6. purple
7. stories, all stories
8. my Girls
9. life
10. crying
11. thunderstorms
12. writing
13. thrills
14. stories
15. candlelight
16. family
17. feeling things
18. sneezing
19. love.

It makes me wonder. Wonder and ponder. But I may not expose my thoughts at this stage.

There are a lot of things I wish I could figure out. And a lot of problems I wish I could solve.

I just want answers, and I want perspective.

Mostly, I want wisdom. Because I don’t know how to procede. I don’t know what the right steps to take are, and I don’t know what I should do. I suppose I could call my mother and ask her, but I don’t know if this is the sort of situation she can help with.

And why do I have to leave right now? Why am I being called off when I feel like I should be here, too.

Lord, please, just give me some wisdom. Give me discretion and a guarded heart.

My days in Cincinnati are winding down, and soon it will be back to Cleveland, and then the flight out to Massachusetts. I would be lying if I didn’t say that I am terribly, amazingly excited about the prospects before me, about what this summer will come to mean for so many people. I know that Camp is where God wants me; He’s made that more than abundantly clear. But there is this selfish side of me who would love to stay here, to see my Very Bests every day, to lay out on rooftops and go to Starbucks multiple times a day, et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum.

I make all of these great plans. Summer 2006, Massachusetts; Winter and Spring 2007, Paris; Summer 2007, NYC. And I convince myself to think that I’m bold and strong enough to be all right with leaving the people I care for. There is so much more out there, I tell myself. But the older we get, in my case at least, the wider the circles go. Since I’ve been at college, I’ve missed out on more family birthday parties than I can count. And if I leave, I won’t get to go to any for almost a year. If I move to New York City, I won’t get to watch my cousins grow up, my brother fall in love and get married, family Christmases just won’t be the same.

But I suppose that’s a part of growing up. It’s bittersweet, having to leave the nest where you’ve always felt so safe and comfortable, and yet being able to build your own, piece by piece, watching life come together in ways that always scared you and yet thrill you at the same time.

In “A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning”, John Donne writes:

Dull sublunary lovers love
     (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
     Those things which elemented it.

But we by’a love, so much refin’d
     That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
     Care lesse, eyes, lips, and hands to misse.

Our two soules therefore, which are one,
     Though I must goe, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
     Like gold to ayery thinnesse beate.

I suppose this must be the way with us. Our relationships, those of the True Love sort, and not just Romantic True Love, should not rely on the presence of both parties. And separation, and the beats and struggles that go with it, only expands the love, spreading it so that it effects so many others. Such should be any of our relationships in Christ.

We are made to be with others. But sometimes, the others we must be with, are not those who own a piece of our deeper selves. At times, those dearest to us must be far away. And while there is pain in that, assurance can always be taken in that, in Heaven, we will love one another eternally, in great community with God. And while, here on earth, such does not always offer the most placating of consolations, I suppose such a hope is one we continue to strive towards not only believing, but wanting to believe.