Why I worked at summer camp

I realize that it's November, and I finished my summer job almost exactly 3 months ago. Honestly, it felt like a different lifetime. But I haven't ever really talked about camp, in a comprehensive "this is what I did with my summer" sort of way. So here goes.

Deciding to work at Lutherhaven was probably the hardest decision I've ever made, but at the same time the most validating. My family was pretty set against me going. My bank account was pretty much set against me going. I was pretty set against me going. Sure, I've camped before. But I'm not what you call a "nature" person. I enjoy walking through a park or just sitting on a porch and listening to the wind, but I want that porch to be attached to my house with a car parked out front and my cell phone fully charged. I was not excited about living in the dirt in Idaho for three months, let alone doing it with little connection to the real world. But for some reason (and a lot of prodding from Sarah), I made the jump. I took the financial, emotional and personal risk of doing something I'd always wanted to do but never had the courage to.

It was more worth it than I could have ever imagined.

I hadn't realized before what living with a purpose meant. Sure I'd worked in jobs or groups that had goals, and I was passionate about those goals. But there is something transforming about living an entire week for the sole purpose of making the life of someone else a little better. I would get my girls on Sunday afternoon, and usually by Tuesday night I was saying to myself "they aren't getting it," "they think I'm weird," "I'm not the right person for this job." And with the exception of a few girls, by Friday afternoon I could not believe how blessed I was to have the privilege of working with that group for the short time we were together. Whether that blessing came in a huge hug as they left or the simple joy of watching a shy and self-conscious teenager bloom, it was always evident to me that something greater than myself was at work.

I even got to the point that I enjoyed cleaning. I mean, really cleaning, like getting down on my hands and knees with bleach and a sponge for two hours. The satisfaction from pouring yourself into something for no benefit to yourself was motivation enough. Sure I griped all the time about minuscule tasks and a large portion of my co-workers who I thought had no business working with children, but in the end I wouldn't trade it for the larger paychecks and comfortable showers I could have had all summer. Not to mention that I made some of the best friends I've ever had, and miss them all to the point of physical pain sometimes. I know it sounds cliche, but seriously, those women were my salvation.

Not to mention that Glory, the camp cook, made the best 7-layer bar I've ever tasted.