a bunk with a view: torn.

My eight-year-old self would change into pajamas--anything comfy that I could find that smelled reasonable enough to put on--& embrace the challenge of climbing into the middle of our three level bunks.

My bunk with a view.

The counselor made sure all us young girls were safely in out beds among the chaos of suitcases & cosmetics laying around before turning out the light. I would chatter with my best friend and others would, with much enthusiasm, add into our playful, exhausted, everything-is-10-times-more-hilarious conversation. Our sweet counselor, Kara, would give us one last warning & one of us would volunteer to pray before we all tossed & turned & began to snore.

While I assume the rest of my cabin was beginning to snooze, my gaze was outside. From my window, you could see the barn; the cafeteria & home base of my favorite place back then: camp. While the staff did an overall acceptable job of making us feel included, I felt torn walking away each night. As I would catch up with one of my girls to walk the comforting path to our cabins, I would gaze back at the staff still chattering away. They would often times yell after us to leave & go get our beauty sleep. Those comments may have been all in good fun--they really did have sincere hearts, but... to my EXTREMELY sensitive eight-year-old self, I was hurt. I wanted to be included on their late night conversations. I strived to know what a relationship with the Lord looked like for them and what relationships with boys looked like with all of that in perspective.

I gaze out the window and eventually the lights would turn off and they all began to disappear to their designated rooms. I thought about the late night conversations they would be having as I lay in bed wondering & wishing. I may have been in a room full of girls, but I felt alone.


Here I am six years later. My first year to be on staff at that same camp that has seen the end of me & so many beautiful beginnings. Here I am fulfilling a dream... & I'm torn. I want to go to camp. I KNOW that it will be amazing, but... all at the same time, I have never wanted to be in two places at once. For one main reason & a million on top of that, I want to have gone, but I don't want to go.

One of my counselors in these past years in devotions said that one of her biggest struggles at the time was knowing she needed to be at camp, but feeling like she needed to also be at home. At the time it made no sense to me & for years I never really understood why she didn't want to only be at camp... hanging out with us. Now, in His time, I understand.

Join me in adventuring into these next five weeks--because in reality it's not that long--with sincere, willing hearts. I know that I can't pack you into my suitcase & head to Iowa {no matter how much I want to}, but I hold you in my heart. Pray for me as I make preparations & say my 'so longs' with a lump in my throat.

Praying that God would use me in a huge way this summer, work in my heart in the midst of my anxiety & homesickness, & bring many of these kiddos closer to Him through simple convictions that I know, for me, has lasted through the years only by His strength.

Part of me wants to make a list of everything I'm going to miss from my beautiful corner of this world while I'm away, but below I'm including a small list of little things that I'm looking forward to:

being able to go into the kitchen. {I've been in it once for a total of two minutes in five camp seasons.}

being able to sign as an 'adult' on kiddos' camp books

getting this year's camp t-shirt

getting to know whomever else the Lord has led to staff

chatting with the little girls especially & being the person on staff I always wished I would have had

hayrack rides

the quiet of unplugging

hearing from home on weekends

nature

carpet ball

late night conversations

serving the campers meals ... the chatter

chapel every night

writing letters

dressing up after a day of games, sweat, & work

the walk back to our cabins; this time not being torn for the reasons I was before, but for such a time as this.

As You wish, Abba. We belong to You.
Forever Yours,
Em.

P.S. Prayerfully I'll be back soon & very soon. Until then, snazzy blog makeover, eh? :)