Camp Colored Glasses: Part 1

Excuse, excuse, special circumstance, short unsatisfying explanation, excuse. There really are very good reasons for why I have not yet posted anything about camp, but rather than go into them, I'd rather just start talking about camp.

First of all, let me say that the transition from camp world to 'real' world is not easy. Not once at camp did I have trouble falling asleep at night, but already this week, I've had a couple nights where I've just layed in bed, awake, trying to fall asleep but unable to because I still had energy left. I still want a nap time at 2:15. But, as with anything, what really defines a place is the people that are there. Camp wouldn't be the same without our campers or the counselors and supervisors. Home wouldn't be home without my parents and brothers. The Estate wouldn't be the same without the guys that live there (we'll miss you, Kevin). Not that one is any better than the other, they're just... different.

Life certainly hasn't been boring this past week. I've worked 8 and 9 hour days all week (except today, obviously), hung out with family, bought a car. I've got packing to do for school, and a to-do list a mile long. But again, it's different. The work I do here (construction) certainly pays better than camp did, but it doesn't impact others or myself the way being a camp counselor did and does. For example.

Last summer I worked 5 of the 6 weeks of camp in Pickerel, the youngest boys cabin. I loved it. They're cute and funny (a little harder on the bed-wetting and home-sickness front), excited about camp, and they crash hard at night. And this summer, I only worked in that cabin once. After a whole summer of middle and oldest boys (9-11 and 11-13), which was by no means a bad thing, I finally got to work in Pickerel. And what really got me excited was that Tommy, one of my returners from last year, was coming back and would be in my cabin.

This is Tommy. Cute little kid, to be sure. He was adopted from China, and he is... kinda deaf. That headband you can barely see is called a bone conductor. The way I understand it (and I could be completely wrong) is that he has a device in his skull that the conductor transmits sound to, and it acts as an eardrum. Sorta like a cochlear implant, but I'm not sure how those work either. But regardless of what it is or how it works, this is Tommy.

It is impossible to pick a favorite camper. At least for me it is. But Tommy is certainly up there. When he arrived on Sunday and finally recognized me (I had a lot less hair this year), his face shone with a smile bigger than the one in the picture. And every morning, after my co-counselors would revive me from my coma (wake me up), even though I was still groggy, grumpy, and half-dressed, Tommy would run across the cabin from his room into mine, give me a big hug that always caught me by surprise, and then go finish getting ready.

The point of me telling you about Tommy is that he loves better than I ever could. As with most deaf or hearing impaired kids, Tommy doesn't speak well, so sometimes I had to ask him to repeat himself. A lot. And he would always patiently repeat himself, or sometimes sign it to help me out. With signing, he taught me all week. Bull, pizza, lizard, red, left, and more. Sometimes I'd forget and ask him the same sign 3 times in a day, and he always patiently showed me. What was even more remarkable to me was that even when I had to punish him (sitting out from pool time, not being able to color for a couple minutes, that sort of thing), he still wanted to be with me. And Friday night, as he realized that he would have to leave the next day, he wept.

Like I said, Tommy was an example to me, a counselor three times older than him and four times heavier, of how to love. I'm supposed to love God the way Tommy loved me. I'm supposed to throw myself in His arms every morning. I'm supposed to want to be in His presence even when it seems like He is ignoring or punishing me. And when I'm faced with the realization that my sin separates me from Him, I should weep. Even though I can't explain how or why, seeing him live out what I'm supposed to live out actually does help me.

People ask me why I work at camp in the summer instead of a job that's closer to home, closer to friends, or pays more. I can never think of how to answer that question. Camp is like home to me. Some of my closest friends in the world work there. And I can think of no better compensation than the countless things I've learned from campers like Tommy. Camp isn't just a job: it's a picture of what the world should be. That's why, whenever I talk about camp vs. the world outside, I always put the word 'real' in quotations. At camp you see people for who they are. You see the potential in kids the world has given up on. You see the effect that love and joy and patience and enthusiasm have on people. Camp is the most 'real' place that I've found.

The Calm Before the Storm

So here are a couple random things for this Sunday morning:

First, as you may know, my computer was attacked by a frappaccuino last week, and even though I am currently typing on it, the backspace and enter keys don't work, making blogging a... difficult task. That's reason number one for the silence here over the past weeks.

Second, we've been busy. Fresh batches of kids every week, parents visiting, people getting sick, and so much more keeps me from finding the time to sit down and organize and transcribe my thoughts. That's the other reason for the long silence.

Lastly, camp has only two more weeks left. It seems like I've been here forever, and it seems like I've only been here a day. I'm tired, but I'm not ready for it to end. The point is, that in two weeks, until my family leaves for vacation, I'm going to be extremely bored. I do have to buy a car in that time, but other than that, school won't have started, and I won't really have much packing to do. So in about two weeks, start checking here, for there will probably be many stories and pictures (hopefully not just from myself) for you to enjoy.

In the meantime, God bless, and keep praying for rain!

Sertoma Rocks

One of the hardest things about working in Camp Sertoma is knowing the history of some of the kids that come. The hardest are those whose lives are so unstable, so frequently changing, that we only see them once. They come, are loved hard, and then during the year they move. And they're gone. Sertomans, for the most part, don't look for them. They are more concerned about the kids that are in their area, the ones they can help right here right now. And that's cool, that's what they do. But for those of us who spend a week turning them from strangers into best friends, it's much much harder.

I think, though, that that's one of the best aspects of our job as well. As hard as these kids have it, as rough as their background is, I rejoice and take comfort in the fact that Camp does kids a world of good. We love them, encourage them, listen to them, and befriend them. Loving them is our job. One of the ways that is done is through rocks.

At the end of the week, every camper gets a rock with their name, the year, and a character trait written on it. A lot of these kids never hear any affirmation at the good things they do, the good traits they possess, and so they forget that they have them. But when you give a nervous kid who trusted you all week and tried everything a rock with the word "BRAVERY" written on it in big, bold letters, the look on their face is priceless. Joy, peace, compassion, teamwork, love, friendship, helpfulness, humor. All of these and more are the shining lights we see in our campers.

But they don't take them home. In order to teach the message that we are to work for the good of others, to encourage, to inspire, to counsel, we have them leave the rocks here. So every week, outside of a tree near the picnic shelter in Camp Sertoma, 40 rocks are added to an ever growing pile. I can look back at that pile and see the names of campers, the traits they modeled for me, remember their faces, and remember how much it hurt to see them leave.

Again, I take comfort in knowing that camp is a safe, amazing, wonderful place for these kids to be. Even though we only get them for a week, they definitely leave changed.

When Am I Supposed to Poop!?

7 name tags on necks. 14 socks on 14 feet in 14 shoes. 7 hobo packs cooked and 14 pieces of french toast cooked over a fire. 7 showers taken, 7 sets of teeth brushed (minus one lost tooth), 7 campers in bed. 1 reading of The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, 3 bedtime songs sung, and 1 homesick camper cared for. 7 awards, 7 evaluations, 7 rocks.

And what about me? One thing that camp teaches you is how to be selfless. I eat last, go to sleep last, work for them on my time off, and have to put my wants and desires at the back of my mind. Because if they're in the front, it's impossible for me to love my campers. And for me, that's not an option. I do love my campers. More than I could have imagined or hoped.

Yes, it means that sometimes I don't get to finish my book. It means that sometimes I don't get to play guitar, or do exactly what I want on my time off. But one thing that is consistent about the great counselors here is that they put their desires on hold for their campers. Whether it's their comfort, their relationship, their pride, anything, the campers come first.

That kind of love is not seen in the outside world too often. Even some parents (thankfully, not my own to what I can remember) put themselves before their children. In schools, the emphasis is on your career, your wants, your future happiness and satisfaction. The benefit of others, service to the less fortunate, and acting out of love is often, if not always, last on the list. Regardless of whether or not we like this, it's the truth.

That's precisely the reason why I love camp. It's the way the world should be. Fear is crowded out by love. Campers come out of their shell because they try, and they try because they know they are safe. People are encouraged to speak only words of love and encouragement, not slander or lies. There is so much more, and hopefully in the coming weeks I'll find the words (and time) to express it all.

Oh yeah. Some days I just don't have time to poop.

Camp, Ephesians, and Unity

One of my favorite things about camp last summer was working with Camp Hope cabins in joining them at the waterslide or for a car wash or something like that. Buddy night, when a Camp Sertoma cabin partners with a Camp Hope cabin, is my favorite night of the week.

I should probably explain, for friends and family that don't know much about camp, what the difference is between the two. Camp Sertoma, which I work in, is for both speech and hearing impaired kids, as well as for underprivileged kids, either from lower-income homes or even foster care. We get a lot of kids that don't know their parents, or have been from foster home to foster home to foster home (one kid last summer had been in at least 7 foster homes in 6 years). Camp Hope, which shares the same facilities and camp directors and operates at the same time, is for mentally handicapped kids and adults. They usually don't come from as broken homes or bad situations as a lot of the Sertoma campers, but it's definitely a different kind of challenge.

As easy as it is to focus on the differences between the camps, there is much more in common than people think. They are both extremely challenging to work in (I haven't worked in Hope, but I know the strength of character and heart that those counselors possess). More importantly, they both have campers that are extremely easy to love. Reading camper files and realizing the pain that my Sertoma kids have been through moves me to compassion and love before they even show up. Seeing the joy on a Hope camper's face after a high five, or catching a fish, or winning the Clean Clean Cabin award leaves even manly men speechless.

Unfortunately, the differences between the camps seem more focused on than anything else, and I think it's a shame. It has to do with the fact that some activities are camp specific (you can't take a cabin full of mentally handicapped men on a high ropes course). It has to do with the fact that the camps are funded in part by different organizations. But I think that most of all, it has to do with pride and complacency of individual counselors. I know that I'm guilty of thinking that my job as a Sertoma counselor is harder than a Hope counselor's, or that my job is more important, or that I have enough to worry about with my campers that I don't need to reach out and seek to work with other cabins. Fortunately I've often been convicted of these sins. It still frustrates me that I can think like that, but if I weren't convicted about this, I wouldn't be writing this post.

Wednesday this past week, during training, I had a conversation with a couple people that led to an idea. I won't go into detail about the conversations, but the upshot is that I and a number of other counselors are going to read through Ephesians over the summer. Six weeks of camp, six chapters. Whether we talk about it or not, the idea is that this will get us thinking in the same mindset. Hopefully conversations about the book itself will arise during time off or rest hour or whatever, but the idea isn't to impress one another with our devotion, it's to be united.

And me picking Ephesians for that is intentional: a major theme of the book is unity in the church, and while camp is not the church, many of us are Christians, and therefore the message definitely applies. Paul emphasizes that there is no distinction between the circumcision and the uncircumcision in Christ. Instead, "in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. (2:13)" Furthermore, "you are no longer strangers and ailens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God. (2:19)" Through the Gospel, all Christians are co-heirs with Christ. The letter goes on the redefine relationships between husbands and wives, children and parents, slaves and masters. We're encouraged to walk in love, not in a spirit of divisiveness. Family and friends, we would invite you to participate not only by praying for us, but by joining in and reading with us. We'll do a chapter each week, reading Ephesians 1 this week (starts on 6-15-2008). Just ask if you're not sure where we are.

So this summer, my hope for camp is that there would be no distinction between Sertoma and Hope, between counselor and specialist, between CIT and supervisor. That we would be more than just Camp Hope and Camp Sertoma. That, when we're asked "what did you do this summer," the answer would be "I worked at camp." Not a camp, not Camp Sertoma, not even CUOL (Clemson University Outdoor Labs), but just camp.

Training May or May Not Be Over

Training officially ended earlier today, but as with last summer, I don't know if I'll ever be done being trained for this job. Campers arrive on Sunday, and I'm as apprehensive and excited as I was the first time I came to camp four years ago as a CIT. Every camper is different, every counselor is different. Every camper (even if you've had them in your cabin), every counselor (even if you worked with them last week) changes and grows. No matter how well I think I know someone, no matter how prepared I feel to work with or for someone, I'm always faced with something new. This excites me and terrifies me: it encourages and overwhelms me.

So, this summer at camp, I resolve to never become complacent with what I think I know, with the things I expect. I resolve to let training continue until the staff banquet is over, and maybe even a little longer.

Counting Down...

Well, training starts on Sunday, and campers arrive the next Sunday. I'm overwhelmingly excited. And I'm pretty sure that even that is an understatement. I can't wait to have Cal as a program director, make KP laugh until she can't breathe, make Hannah blush with Aerosmith songs, see Thomas give Tree a 'moose kiss,' come up with another great schizophrenic character for Katie, sing some awesome camp songs, canoe in the lake, take swimming lessons from Emmeline (super-heroes in training), not to mention all the new staff, and most importantly, my campers.

The point of this blog is to have a place for other counselors (and myself) to post funny stories, prayer requests, pictures, anything. Hopefully it will keep friends and family up to date about what goes on at camp: the laughter, the exhaustion, the depth of relationships, and the intensity of the summer in general.

So, to friends and family, welcome. Hopefully this shows a little bit what 'camp life' is like and helps you better understand why we are all so excited and passionate about camp.