but the thing is...

I wrote yesterday about my terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad experience at summer camp. But the thing is, if camp is done right, camp should NEVER be an unsafe place for misfits. It should be the one place on earth where freedom is found. Free to be silly, quirky, odd and funny.

When I worked out at Flathead Lutheran Bible Camp after my freshman year of college, I remember standing in awe of all of the costume changes we had during the day. We'd dress up for skits and special carnivals. But we also dressed up for theme meals and random announcements. I journaled about how one day I changed clothes six different times.

This is what I love about camp in its purest form. There is a freedom to be dorky like no other place in the world. It's all in the name of fun and for some reason, camp is still a place where this sort of odd behavior is still accepted and appreciated. Just see what I mean...

confession: I hated kids camp.

I hated my first summer of kids camp. Hated it. Homesick, sad and lonesome. Suffered through the days and hoped to never go back.

Honestly, I never stop thinking about that 5th-grade-Becca camper when I am training my summer staff. And I never stop thinking about her all summer long when I see the misfits trying to work their way into their group of peers.

My trouble was that I was so dang excited to take the swim test. I had just completed swimming lessons a few weeks before and had mastered my underwater breathing and got a star next to the front crawl portion of my swim test. So when it came time to swim around the swimming area, I was ready to show the world my new skills.

Unfortunately, it was a wavy day. And as I turned to make my next long swim around the deep end, I turned my neck up to get my gulp of air and instead gulped a wave. They swam me over to the floating raft where I choked on the lake for a while.

All of this was deflating enough. Remember, I had skills I was going to show the world. But to make it truly worse, I was given a scarlet letter in the form of a purple wrist band that signified to all at camp, "this girl can't swim."

Horrible! I still ache for that fifth grade girl. I had plenty of friends there that week, but my confidence was shot and all I wanted to do was find my mom and tell her the whole horrible story.

My sister was there that week as a counselor in training, and she kept encouraging me to retake the test, because she knew I could swim, and just not do the fancy breathing. But I was too embarrassed. To show up for the retake test might be more humiliating than wearing a bright purple, inch thick bracelet all week long.

My counselors that week were mediocre at best, and I remember one discussion where they announced that we couldn't canoe to the picnic area across the lake because "not all of us had passed the swim test." But then they found a lifeguard who could go along, as long as she was in my canoe.

I think about those counselors, too, when I'm training my summer staff. It's not okay to be mediocre. It's not okay to be that oblivious to the pain one of your campers is suffering through.

So that's my job now: to train our staff to find these suffering souls and to love on them! To make sure that camp might just be the one place where they actually fit in and feel gifted and empowered and safe.

There's no real happy ending to that purple bracelet story. Maybe it built some character. I didn't go back to that camp for another four years, and only went because I had friends who begged me to join them.

I passed the swim test that time around, and it was Christmastime before I clipped that pink bracelet off my wrist.

just checking in...

Staff Training is full swing and I could not be happier. This staff is so fun. Each individual is making me so excited just to get to watch them and their gifts in action all summer long. This is a laughing staff, a thoughtful staff, a faithful staff and a bold staff. I've got a fun summer ahead of me.

I got to come home on Saturday for some time with Rory. We went out to a lake and I started a book and he finished one. Then we ran errands together and it made for a fun, normal day in the midst of a very, very full schedule each day at camp. We've got one more week ahead of us, but everyone is in good spirits and we're happily getting to know each other. Thanks for the prayers everybody!

camping

I'm going to pause from a the "why I love camp ministry" theme for a minute, just to say that I love plain love camping. I love picnics, I love being outside and I love being close to big bodies of water.
The very, very best Harrington family vacation we ever took was living in a popup camper on The Circle Tour on Lake Superior. In a little over two weeks, we pulled our house behind our minivan, with a car top carrier loaded full of additional luggage and made one of our greatest family memories. And that's saying a lot, because we took a lot of great trips. But for some reason, all of us agree that this was a highlight of our childhood.

The picture above was taken on another trip in the Boundary Waters. I am pretty sure this was the trip we almost all died in a straight line wind thunderstorm. We had to tear down camp around 2 am and get out of dodge before trees started falling on us. I remember this night vaguely with fun and adventurous memories. My dad would probably say this is a night he recommitted his life to the Lord under the condition that we all survive.

The thing about camping trips is that good stories are easy to make. Whether everything goes according to plan, or nothing goes according to plan. It's just good to be out in God's creation, taking in fresh air, cooking over a fire, and getting up with the sun because it's just too hot to say in the tent any longer.

holy moments

This picture was taken when I worked at Mount Carmel two summers ago. We had an evening worship overlooking the lake. An artist was there and as the sermon was preached on Peter, the artist painted Jesus telling Peter to drop his net and to instead become a fisher of men.

During the worship there was one lone boat out on the lake with a solo fisherman quietly puttering around. The night was still and calm and comfortable. It was holy.

But that's the thing about camp. It lends itself to lots of holy moments.