I'm a camp girl. In my kitchen you cans see a camp sticker on the family command center. It's fairly likely I'm wearing a washed out camp t-shirt. The biggest compliment I've ever given my husband is that he could have been a camp counselor- he's that good of a guy (he was otherwise occupied making actual money to pay for college while I traipsed around the woods, extending youth as far as it would go).
This year I took my girls to Mother/Daughter weekend at the very same place I spent summers- I walked them around and listened to traditions old and new explained. I watched them jump off high dives (twisted ankle) and pick their way up the rock climbing tower ("I can't do it!"). They were delighted to stand on the benches andscream sing. They baked cinnamon rolls from scratch. They shot archery and rifles and took shots in battleball. They jumped in with their whole hearts and grew mine in the process.
I watched in wonder (and a few gulping tears) as they experienced a taste of what I did. From the other side, I know what it is I am seeing- I'm seeing women built- brick by inconspicuous brick. You don't know where to go next and need to ask for help? Brick. You don't ask and figure it out yourself? Brick. You lost the sockwar and need to process that disappointment? Brick. You wonder about God's role in your life? Brick. Your friend dropped a tray of dishes and you ran to help her clean up? Brick. You overslept and had to face your chief for loss of points? You are the chief and need to talk to a child? Brick. Brick. Brick.
Looking back, camp was formative, powerful, influential..... but the strangest takeaway was this: my experience was unremarkable. I was unremarkable. I was without a doubt, the most unimpressive, standard issue, mediocre camper to have ever graced those gravel roads. Camp was forming me anyway.
I was not popular or talented or athletic in any way that deserves mention. I didn't get into the tribe I wanted. I didn't receive tons of awards. The first five years I was a camper, I didn't earn a single award in activities, my tribe, or my cabin. Five closing ceremonies clapping for girls to receive their small, coveted trophies... and more than a little self-pity because of it. I was sent to the directors office when I got into trouble. I lost track of time, lost my belongings, forgot my riding boots (again). I didn't get asked to dance during the big shindig. I didn't get my points for the day. I was nobody's shining example of a camper. But here's the thing.... camp was forming me anyway. I didn't have the coolest clothes (seriously though who were these parents sending brand-new clothes?) or an all-matching set of bedding fit for a college freshman for a nine year old. I used the same Little Mermaid pillowcase for 10 years. My daughter sleeps with it now (we've come full circle- it's so old it's trendy again). I never got the matching camp tattoos with the others, or decided to go to college together, or did an especially great job of keeping up with camp friends. Camp was forming me anyway.
Years later as I grappled with God, my Faith, my path, I felt the bricks beneath my feet. As I left home for college, I felt them. As I walked into rooms where I didn't know anyone, I felt them. I've been here before- I remember this brick. The foundation was strong.
Now as an upcoming camp Mom (summer of 2019 we're coming for you!), I know we want to see our kids thrive. We want to see them applauded, loved, and appreciated for their unique gifts and talents. We love gilding, ribbons, and trophies. Those things are lovely and I wish you dusty boxes full of them. The secret is, they're being built up down in their foundation where you cannot see. Brick by brick.
Mediocre campers, unite- we won everything that mattered.
This year I took my girls to Mother/Daughter weekend at the very same place I spent summers- I walked them around and listened to traditions old and new explained. I watched them jump off high dives (twisted ankle) and pick their way up the rock climbing tower ("I can't do it!"). They were delighted to stand on the benches and
I watched in wonder (and a few gulping tears) as they experienced a taste of what I did. From the other side, I know what it is I am seeing- I'm seeing women built- brick by inconspicuous brick. You don't know where to go next and need to ask for help? Brick. You don't ask and figure it out yourself? Brick. You lost the sockwar and need to process that disappointment? Brick. You wonder about God's role in your life? Brick. Your friend dropped a tray of dishes and you ran to help her clean up? Brick. You overslept and had to face your chief for loss of points? You are the chief and need to talk to a child? Brick. Brick. Brick.
Looking back, camp was formative, powerful, influential..... but the strangest takeaway was this: my experience was unremarkable. I was unremarkable. I was without a doubt, the most unimpressive, standard issue, mediocre camper to have ever graced those gravel roads. Camp was forming me anyway.
I was not popular or talented or athletic in any way that deserves mention. I didn't get into the tribe I wanted. I didn't receive tons of awards. The first five years I was a camper, I didn't earn a single award in activities, my tribe, or my cabin. Five closing ceremonies clapping for girls to receive their small, coveted trophies... and more than a little self-pity because of it. I was sent to the directors office when I got into trouble. I lost track of time, lost my belongings, forgot my riding boots (again). I didn't get asked to dance during the big shindig. I didn't get my points for the day. I was nobody's shining example of a camper. But here's the thing.... camp was forming me anyway. I didn't have the coolest clothes (seriously though who were these parents sending brand-new clothes?) or an all-matching set of bedding fit for a college freshman for a nine year old. I used the same Little Mermaid pillowcase for 10 years. My daughter sleeps with it now (we've come full circle- it's so old it's trendy again). I never got the matching camp tattoos with the others, or decided to go to college together, or did an especially great job of keeping up with camp friends. Camp was forming me anyway.
Years later as I grappled with God, my Faith, my path, I felt the bricks beneath my feet. As I left home for college, I felt them. As I walked into rooms where I didn't know anyone, I felt them. I've been here before- I remember this brick. The foundation was strong.
Now as an upcoming camp Mom (summer of 2019 we're coming for you!), I know we want to see our kids thrive. We want to see them applauded, loved, and appreciated for their unique gifts and talents. We love gilding, ribbons, and trophies. Those things are lovely and I wish you dusty boxes full of them. The secret is, they're being built up down in their foundation where you cannot see. Brick by brick.
Mediocre campers, unite- we won everything that mattered.
This is wonderful. How important it is to feel like we have firm ground -- bricks, even -- under our feet.
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