Eternal seconds in front of dark campfires.
Two more weeks.
Whenever I think about how close we are to finishing the camp season, a blanket of sadness drops over my head and shuts out the light for a while. Not because I don't want to be back at school--believe me, I miss my college family so very much--but because this home called Haven on the Rock is one of the safest places I have ever been to simply...be.
It also reminds me of just how much Haven changes me. I came out here this summer with an attitude of expectancy and excitement, but a hint of unhealed hurt seeped through the cracks of that face I had placed out on display. I look at my work ethic here and wonder where it disappears as soon as I set foot in a classroom. I think of my eagerness to serve endlessly and ask myself how this same body can struggle to walk two flights of stairs and crawl into bed at 2 in the morning. I examine my awareness of the pain I see in others here and question my standoffish behavior when I witness the same in the dorms.
There were times that felt endless this week. These seemingly eternal moments were spent sitting in front of dark campfires having long conversations; cuddling closer to Jess next to the fire pit and listening to Martha speak of young people she cares deeply about; sitting in staff meetings and laughing until I cried because Bri misheard something I said; spraying dishes at 11 p.m. in hopes of escaping my thoughts; handing filthy pots and pans to Michael across the sink and savoring every minute he was on my dish crew; twirling and pivoting with full dish trays and still-dripping hands as I completed the Captain's Challenge with Jenni, Greg, and the Captain himself cheering me on; singing worship songs outside with Jess and Michael; getting surprise hugs from Madi when I needed them the most.
But so much more happened that deserves mentioning. Changing my farm devotional to one that explains salvation led to one young camper raising his hand and asking the question, "Does that mean everyone goes to heaven?" A late night conversation in the bathroom unearthed the story of why I fear being left behind and brought healing words from a triad partner. Standing outside talking to Karisa about Northwestern helped me explain our vision for TENTS. A Friday afternoon trip to town with Michael, Katelyn, and Hannah revealed a quirky thrift shop and dropped us into a meaningful, much-needed adult conversation about counseling and seeing God work through little things during the week. A night spent on the floor in Jess' room meant a second adult conversation and the quality time I had needed all week.
Two more weeks of this beauty. It isn't enough. I want to be with these people forever. If my worlds could combine into one slightly larger one, my heart might ache a little less.
The song of the post is "Where Love Dies" by Mike Mains & The Branches. It's one of those tracks from this album that runs through my head in the dish room...a sure sign that it has meaning since I have a grand total of three songs that rotate in my brain during my time spent in front of that sink. The sadness mixes with hope and longing. It fits. It just fits.
God loves me, and God's love is enough.
Whenever I think about how close we are to finishing the camp season, a blanket of sadness drops over my head and shuts out the light for a while. Not because I don't want to be back at school--believe me, I miss my college family so very much--but because this home called Haven on the Rock is one of the safest places I have ever been to simply...be.
It also reminds me of just how much Haven changes me. I came out here this summer with an attitude of expectancy and excitement, but a hint of unhealed hurt seeped through the cracks of that face I had placed out on display. I look at my work ethic here and wonder where it disappears as soon as I set foot in a classroom. I think of my eagerness to serve endlessly and ask myself how this same body can struggle to walk two flights of stairs and crawl into bed at 2 in the morning. I examine my awareness of the pain I see in others here and question my standoffish behavior when I witness the same in the dorms.
There were times that felt endless this week. These seemingly eternal moments were spent sitting in front of dark campfires having long conversations; cuddling closer to Jess next to the fire pit and listening to Martha speak of young people she cares deeply about; sitting in staff meetings and laughing until I cried because Bri misheard something I said; spraying dishes at 11 p.m. in hopes of escaping my thoughts; handing filthy pots and pans to Michael across the sink and savoring every minute he was on my dish crew; twirling and pivoting with full dish trays and still-dripping hands as I completed the Captain's Challenge with Jenni, Greg, and the Captain himself cheering me on; singing worship songs outside with Jess and Michael; getting surprise hugs from Madi when I needed them the most.
But so much more happened that deserves mentioning. Changing my farm devotional to one that explains salvation led to one young camper raising his hand and asking the question, "Does that mean everyone goes to heaven?" A late night conversation in the bathroom unearthed the story of why I fear being left behind and brought healing words from a triad partner. Standing outside talking to Karisa about Northwestern helped me explain our vision for TENTS. A Friday afternoon trip to town with Michael, Katelyn, and Hannah revealed a quirky thrift shop and dropped us into a meaningful, much-needed adult conversation about counseling and seeing God work through little things during the week. A night spent on the floor in Jess' room meant a second adult conversation and the quality time I had needed all week.
Two more weeks of this beauty. It isn't enough. I want to be with these people forever. If my worlds could combine into one slightly larger one, my heart might ache a little less.
God loves me, and God's love is enough.
This is beautiful Justine
ReplyDeleteThanks, Meg. Sometimes these posts flow and sometimes they don't. This one did.
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