Before I left for camp I was in "game mode". I knew the work that had to be done that week and I prepped for it, knew the seriousness of it and was ready to 'go to battle' so-to-speak. I knew in my cabin there were mostly girls I knew of - but few I actually knew. I knew our cabin was full of a mix of girls, unlike the other cabins that seemed to be tidy and neatly arranged. I knew that several of our girls were the 'Debby downer' type, or were 'lost' in big ways. I worried about the diversity of the girls and if I could handle the tension, or the possible distractions of the seemingly volatile mix. I was afraid I couldn't. I didn't know if anyone would be reached, partly because I felt inadequate, mostly because I was lacking faith that it would work its way out for His glory.
The first couple days are intensely packed with activities and leave an old gal like myself exhausted. In cabin time after 'club' (music, skits, speaker) those first couple of nights, we allow the girls to share and question and just get honest without our real input. I felt like I was struggling to connect and felt lost amongst the group. Soon I would find out that the other leader in the cabin felt the same way. I got scared. I tried to put on a not scared face for my other leader, for the girls, but I didn't know where this week was going and I felt frustrated that I didn't have control of it.
That afternoon I found out that my son was in a hospital in Houston, without his parents, and we were told he was afraid and anxious as the doctor's tried to find out what was causing such an adverse reaction (snake bite?) in him. I didn't understand it!! Why was I even there? I should be with my son! I couldn't leave, but I had checked out mentally. That night in our leader meeting we got on the floor in the dark and listened to a song play while we thought and prayed for these campers. I had cried most of the afternoon and just laid there in the floor thinking and praying:
God if I'm going to do this, I can't. I have to stop trying. It HAS to be all you. When these kids see me - walking, talking, joining them in activities, I want them to see only You. Fill me with your words, your motives, your heart. Empty me of 'me'.
I pictured myself sitting down at a table, but when the kid sitting next to me looked over, it wasn't me - it was Jesus. I begged Him to help me release my control, and for Him to take over because I was failing miserably on my own. It's like I didn't even realize until that point how much I was getting in the way.
(read the post above for "The Mountain")
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