Two weeks from today is my last day in my current job. But it isn't just a job - it is a way of life. It is my home. It is my family. We live here. We play here. We work here. Our community is here. Our life is here. And we are leaving...scary stuff, but exciting too.
Four years (five summers) ago, I could have never imagined the blessings that I would be leaving Camp Arrah Wanna with - the people who, now, are such vital and integral parts of my very existence...and I didn't even know half of them existed just a few short years ago. How is that possible?
Prior to taking this position, 90% of my work experience had been directly with children. This job is primarily working with adults - for kids, but with adults. I've learned so much. So much, that I am returning to work with children!! :-) But seriously, the skills and gifts that have been fine-tuned in me over the course of the last four years would never have come to fruition while working with kids, yet they will serve me so well as I leave this current job and move into my new one. God was preparing me all the time - God always does that.
As I look back over my time here, I feel humbled that I've been able to be a part of this ministry. Lives have changed, right before my eyes, and I am so privileged to have been able to witness those transformations.
The people that this place brought to me as staff and clients, but who are now friends and family.....well, all I can to that is just "wow". How is it that I didn't even know these folks four years ago, and now I can't live without them? God is amazing that way.
Moving is weird - "they" say it more stressful than death or divorce. As I look around at all my boxes and my world in such disarray, I can believe it. (I've never been dead, but I have divorced twice, so I can speak with some authority about what "they" say!). My girls aren't excited about changing schools. My husband is looking for a job in that area. I am returning to a field I LOVE LOVE LOVE, but have been out out out of for several years now.
More importantly, I am returning to doing ministry in a church. For four years, my "church" has been the mountains, trees, river and hills of camp. Not that I don't love my current church home - - I just don't get there a lot because running a camp is more than a full time job. But now, I will be back in the swing of the traditional church. I am excited. I am a little bit nervous too.
My views and believes about "church" are so different than they were when I came here. I am excited to see what God does with those, but I am curious about how quickly I will acclimate to that life again. I don't really want to acclimate. I love being "out of the box". I look forward to the challenge of doing vital, relevant, applicable, loving ministry both within the four walls of the church building and outside of them as well (and NOT necessarily in that order!).
God's been laying the groundwork in me for years now - I am ready to embrace wherever it is that S/He is taking me now!
The times are changing...I am committed to the ride!
September 16, 2007
July 11, 2007
i remember walking...
MDA camp is here this week at the camp I run. There are about 105 kids with varying degrees of muscular dystrophy here as campers, along with about 150 leaders, counselors, nurses, and other staff and volunteers, in addition to my camp staff. It is a great week - our favorite as it is really a time for us, as camp staff, to demonstrate our faith as opposed to talking about it. We are here to serve the campers and their folks, and we really enjoy the opportunities we have to interact with all of them, and learn a bit about their journeys. It is also a week that very quickly puts into perspective everything in our individual personal lives. Just the sight of little kids, wheeling around our grounds in their wheelchairs and scooters, getting the chance to be a regular ol' kid (at least for a week), rather than a kid with a degenerative disease, is a very cool thing. My worst day is probably better than their best, and that is something that I can easily lose sight of, until a week like this week comes around.
Just watching this one little guy pet and play with my dog is a treat in itself, but there are a million other moments that take my breath away during this particular camp. I heard a story today that I am going to try my best to remember whenever something in my world has me down, or upset, or worried, or pissed off. Margaret, an MDA leader (and, over the course of the last several years, my friend) was conversing at one point with a (then) about 19 year old male camper in a wheelchair. She asked him if he'd always been in the chair, or if he had ever been able to walk. He replied, "Yeh, I remember walking ~~ it was fun." I can't even begin to tell you the number of times that I have been ticked off that I had to walk somewhere on this 132 acre property for some reason that didn't fly well with me at any given moment, yet here is this young man for whom walking is something "fun" he can only remember doing.
I remember years and years ago I wrote a newsletter article for the daycare center I was serving as the director for. It was right after Christmas, and my three older children were still fairly young ~~ maybe 5, 7, and 9, or thereabouts. I was writing about Christmas morning and the sibling fight that had transpired because of a certain-colored something that someone got in his stocking that another someone had wanted in hers, rather than the color that she got. I remember the tag line of that article was "I want the green one!", and my point was how I would one day welcome the sound "I want the green one!" some Christmas morning when I wake up with no children in my home. I felt similarly today when Margaret relayed that story to me.
There are so many tiny (and even not-so-tiny) miracles that I take for granted every single day. Just the fact that I wake up each morning, and my heart is still beating, and my lungs still remember how to fill and empty with air, is a miracle. Five healthy, safe, smart, successful, kind, and beautiful children is a miracle. People who know me as I really am and love me not only despite that, but because of it - that is a miracle. There are so many butterflies around camp this summer, in so many bright and beautiful colors - that is a miracle. I not only remember walking, but I get to do it - everyday, all day long. There are 105 kids in my camp tonight that would consider that a miracle. It is high time I begin to do that as well.
I remember walking all over camp today - down by the river, out to the meadow, down to the lodge for meals, out to the field to watch the games, and down to the kitchen just now, late at night, for Amie's maiden voyage into fresh-from-scratch cinnamon rolls. Yeh, I remember walking today ~~ it was fun.
Just watching this one little guy pet and play with my dog is a treat in itself, but there are a million other moments that take my breath away during this particular camp. I heard a story today that I am going to try my best to remember whenever something in my world has me down, or upset, or worried, or pissed off. Margaret, an MDA leader (and, over the course of the last several years, my friend) was conversing at one point with a (then) about 19 year old male camper in a wheelchair. She asked him if he'd always been in the chair, or if he had ever been able to walk. He replied, "Yeh, I remember walking ~~ it was fun." I can't even begin to tell you the number of times that I have been ticked off that I had to walk somewhere on this 132 acre property for some reason that didn't fly well with me at any given moment, yet here is this young man for whom walking is something "fun" he can only remember doing.
I remember years and years ago I wrote a newsletter article for the daycare center I was serving as the director for. It was right after Christmas, and my three older children were still fairly young ~~ maybe 5, 7, and 9, or thereabouts. I was writing about Christmas morning and the sibling fight that had transpired because of a certain-colored something that someone got in his stocking that another someone had wanted in hers, rather than the color that she got. I remember the tag line of that article was "I want the green one!", and my point was how I would one day welcome the sound "I want the green one!" some Christmas morning when I wake up with no children in my home. I felt similarly today when Margaret relayed that story to me.
There are so many tiny (and even not-so-tiny) miracles that I take for granted every single day. Just the fact that I wake up each morning, and my heart is still beating, and my lungs still remember how to fill and empty with air, is a miracle. Five healthy, safe, smart, successful, kind, and beautiful children is a miracle. People who know me as I really am and love me not only despite that, but because of it - that is a miracle. There are so many butterflies around camp this summer, in so many bright and beautiful colors - that is a miracle. I not only remember walking, but I get to do it - everyday, all day long. There are 105 kids in my camp tonight that would consider that a miracle. It is high time I begin to do that as well.
I remember walking all over camp today - down by the river, out to the meadow, down to the lodge for meals, out to the field to watch the games, and down to the kitchen just now, late at night, for Amie's maiden voyage into fresh-from-scratch cinnamon rolls. Yeh, I remember walking today ~~ it was fun.
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