This morning I woke up feeling beautiful, strong, powerful, and genuinely happy. I looked at my imperfect body and crazy hair in the mirror and smiled at my reflection. Though I was tired, I got dressed with energy and every new breath seemed to fill me with passion and excitement about the day. As I walked down the hill to breakfast, I marveled at how perfectly my joints and muscles worked together to carry me wherever I wanted to go, and I felt that tingle in my chest that lets you know you are not only alive, but living. I smiled all through breakfast and as I walked to the outdoor chapel, noticing for the first time this summer the beauty of the collage created by each individual leaf and twig around me. I tuned my guitar, practiced a little bit for worship, and then, still smiling sat down on a bench and worship began.
I really was paying attention... For real. As I sat there, I got that nagging feeling that I was forgetting something. I mentally ran through my morning checklist and verified that I had indeed accomplished everything that needed to be done. I listened to the words of the message and tried to overcome the feeling, which increased with fervent vigor in response. I played a couple of songs and sat down again. As I closed my eyes for a prayer, I remembered...
Several years ago I had been sitting in the exact same spot I was in this morning. I had felt warmed, like one feels after eating oatmeal or drinking rich hot chocolate. We did worship in the evenings back then and it was late enough in the summer that the sun had begun setting as we were there. I had opened my eyes after a prayer and looked up to the sky to discover it filled with small clouds, vibrantly white on top and vividly orange on the bottom. The sky was soft pink fading into blue and the trees around me hummed with the vibration of living things, glorifying God simply by being who and what God created them to be. As I sat there, I remember thinking that there was nothing in the world more beautiful, until I remembered that God felt the same thing about me. In that instant, years ago, I realized for the first time how deeply God loved me.
This morning's memory of that moment was so brilliant that I can't believe I had forgotten it in the first place. It has been forever since I thought about that sky and since I remembered that love. With my eyes closed, all I could do was mouth the words to God... I remember.
The rest of the day today has followed in the same suit. Everything I have done, even the most mundane task, has caused me to smile. My spirit is so calm, yet I am scintillatingly aware of its presence, beauty, and aliveness. I have an overwhelming desire to create and a joy in just being.
I began this summer with a prayer for God to show me once again who I am. The whole summer has led to this point, and I am excited and ready to return to my life with a rejuvenated awareness of myself. I am also glad to say that through my self rediscovery, I have seen a little bit more of who God is. Mainly I am encouraged that even when I forget myself, God doesn't forget me.
Thank you God, for remembering.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Camp Mundo Vista is great fun!
In 2006, I wrote this, and it is just as true today as it was then:
Since my first summer on staff at Mundo Vista I've wondered how it is that I can feel God's presence so much more clearly in some places than in others. At Mundo Vista I feel as if I breathe God in with every breath I take. It's a thick, soothing presence, kind of like the overwhelming smell of my grandmother's freshly baked yeast rolls. (I love it when they have only been out of the oven for a few minutes and I can hold one while its soft heat warms both of my hands and my heart. Those rolls are a tradition, as is the real wooden rolling pin that must be used to make them., but they never come out exactly the same.) It makes me hungry for an intimate relationship with God... one where I can feel his presence spreading through me like the warmth of grandmother's rolls... where I can feel the history and the tradition, but where every minute is completely different. I don't get that feeling anywhere else... not at school, at work, or even in my own church.
It's good to be back on the mountain where my head is not cluttered with reputations, appearances, expectations, and idleness... where I can think clearly and be honest about who I am and what I am learning that God wants me to do and be.
This summer, I want to keep up with myself. I want to remember things that I think and feel, and I want to share what camp and what God mean to me.
I don't really know why God has called me back to camp this summer. While I am the same person I have always been, my life is now significantly different. I am a wife and a teacher. I help my husband plant churches and I am praying for the day when God will allow me to be a mother. My life experiences at this point make me essentially different in many ways from every other young woman on staff. With the craziness of my schedule, I'm not sure when I'll have time to make an impact. I'm left wondering... but that's ok.
There are a couple things that I know I want, and desperately need, out of this summer. First of all, I need God to show me something new about who God is. I am stuck in the spiritual life that I had three years ago, and it is time to move forward, refocus, and delve into intimacy with Christ. Secondly, I need God to show me something new about who I am. With the expectations of adult life, I have allowed myself to become defined by my family, my education, and my career; yet, I know that is only a small segment of who I am created to be. I've felt a little lost to myself for a while now, and it's time to rediscover who God made me to be.
When I leave this summer, I want to have remembered how to let God fill me up. I want to be overcome with renewed passion and once again to be able to tap into the immense creativity I know God has placed in me. I want to refocus my life and take home a renewed spirit.
I know God can do these things, and I believe that God will. I'm here, Lord.
It's good to be back on the mountain where my head is not cluttered with reputations, appearances, expectations, and idleness... where I can think clearly and be honest about who I am and what I am learning that God wants me to do and be.
This summer, I want to keep up with myself. I want to remember things that I think and feel, and I want to share what camp and what God mean to me.
I don't really know why God has called me back to camp this summer. While I am the same person I have always been, my life is now significantly different. I am a wife and a teacher. I help my husband plant churches and I am praying for the day when God will allow me to be a mother. My life experiences at this point make me essentially different in many ways from every other young woman on staff. With the craziness of my schedule, I'm not sure when I'll have time to make an impact. I'm left wondering... but that's ok.
There are a couple things that I know I want, and desperately need, out of this summer. First of all, I need God to show me something new about who God is. I am stuck in the spiritual life that I had three years ago, and it is time to move forward, refocus, and delve into intimacy with Christ. Secondly, I need God to show me something new about who I am. With the expectations of adult life, I have allowed myself to become defined by my family, my education, and my career; yet, I know that is only a small segment of who I am created to be. I've felt a little lost to myself for a while now, and it's time to rediscover who God made me to be.
When I leave this summer, I want to have remembered how to let God fill me up. I want to be overcome with renewed passion and once again to be able to tap into the immense creativity I know God has placed in me. I want to refocus my life and take home a renewed spirit.
I know God can do these things, and I believe that God will. I'm here, Lord.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Pay it Forward
Every once in a while, take time to do something special and out of the ordinary for someone you love. You never know how much it will mean. If you want it to be extra-special, make it anonymous. It is not about the thanks we receive, but about the joy we give.
I try to do this myself, but I don't doing it often enough.
Today when I went to my staff mailbox I found a card addressed to my husband and me. As teachers, we offer each other encouragement often, so I suspected it was a note from a colleage encouraging me in my studies or reminding me that the school year is almost over. When I opened it, I began to cry because inside was a $50 gas card. The card only said, "Mrs. Markwood, A gift for you and your husband. Thanks for all you both do for SW!" No signature, and while I suspect I recognize the handwriting, I can't be sure.
I don't know if the person who left this knows the amount of craziness in my life right now. I don't know if he or she realizes that I will be commuting to Greensboro from Asheboro all summer. I don't know if he or she knows my monetary worries and concerns. I don't know if he or she even cares about that. What I do know, is that this person blessed me immensely today. The knowledge that someone loves me enough to take time out of his or her day and money out of his or her pocket to give me such a gift anonymously is incredibly overwhelming.
While I wish I knew exactly who to thank personally, I am aware of the joy of giving, and as a "thank you" to this wonderful friend, whoever you are, I promise to pay it forward to someone else who needs a blessing in their lives.
Thank you. You have no idea what your gift, and more importantly, your thoughts mean to me.
I try to do this myself, but I don't doing it often enough.
Today when I went to my staff mailbox I found a card addressed to my husband and me. As teachers, we offer each other encouragement often, so I suspected it was a note from a colleage encouraging me in my studies or reminding me that the school year is almost over. When I opened it, I began to cry because inside was a $50 gas card. The card only said, "Mrs. Markwood, A gift for you and your husband. Thanks for all you both do for SW!" No signature, and while I suspect I recognize the handwriting, I can't be sure.
I don't know if the person who left this knows the amount of craziness in my life right now. I don't know if he or she realizes that I will be commuting to Greensboro from Asheboro all summer. I don't know if he or she knows my monetary worries and concerns. I don't know if he or she even cares about that. What I do know, is that this person blessed me immensely today. The knowledge that someone loves me enough to take time out of his or her day and money out of his or her pocket to give me such a gift anonymously is incredibly overwhelming.
While I wish I knew exactly who to thank personally, I am aware of the joy of giving, and as a "thank you" to this wonderful friend, whoever you are, I promise to pay it forward to someone else who needs a blessing in their lives.
Thank you. You have no idea what your gift, and more importantly, your thoughts mean to me.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Desiring Connection
I have a paper to write. My house is an absolute disaster. I ought to grade papers and plan for tomorrow. I need to do my taxes. I've still not yet organized my budget for April. My clothes are all dirty.
But tonight I feel the need to connect. I've been terribly busy with the stuff of life recently, and haven't taken much time to rest in who God created me to be and connect with the people God has placed in my life. I have great excuses for both problems, but I don't accept excuses from other people, so why should I believe my own excuses are valid?
My excuse for not resting in who God created me to be is that I just don't have time. There is simply too much that I HAVE to do for me to sit down and write, or play the piano or guitar, or create something beautiful, or read for pleasure. There are dishes piled up in my sink and research to conduct for school. There are always, ALWAYS stacks of papers waiting for my pink pen to deface them, and parents to call, and lessons to plan. While getting things done does often make me feel better, it does not fulfill me. I have allowed myself to become a machine for doing things that ultimately, in the long run, don't really matter all that much. My spiritual well being, however, is kind of important.
My excuse for not being connected to my friends is that by the time I come home from school, where I've had to be Miss Extrovert, all I want to do is curl up and hide in a corner. This is true, but it is also lame. I am ultimately introverted, but reading messages from friends on facebook is hardly intrusive. Who do I think I am, anyway? I NEED connection with other people at the very core of my being. It's my own fault I've been so disconnected, and it's my own fault I've suffered from it.
Allison Markwood... if you'll have me, I'd like to reconnect with you. God gave you some pretty awesome qualities that I'd like to rediscover.
Friends... if you'll have me, I'd like to reconnect with you also. I can't be completely fulfilled while neglecting the relationships with the amazing people God has placed in my life.
But tonight I feel the need to connect. I've been terribly busy with the stuff of life recently, and haven't taken much time to rest in who God created me to be and connect with the people God has placed in my life. I have great excuses for both problems, but I don't accept excuses from other people, so why should I believe my own excuses are valid?
My excuse for not resting in who God created me to be is that I just don't have time. There is simply too much that I HAVE to do for me to sit down and write, or play the piano or guitar, or create something beautiful, or read for pleasure. There are dishes piled up in my sink and research to conduct for school. There are always, ALWAYS stacks of papers waiting for my pink pen to deface them, and parents to call, and lessons to plan. While getting things done does often make me feel better, it does not fulfill me. I have allowed myself to become a machine for doing things that ultimately, in the long run, don't really matter all that much. My spiritual well being, however, is kind of important.
My excuse for not being connected to my friends is that by the time I come home from school, where I've had to be Miss Extrovert, all I want to do is curl up and hide in a corner. This is true, but it is also lame. I am ultimately introverted, but reading messages from friends on facebook is hardly intrusive. Who do I think I am, anyway? I NEED connection with other people at the very core of my being. It's my own fault I've been so disconnected, and it's my own fault I've suffered from it.
Allison Markwood... if you'll have me, I'd like to reconnect with you. God gave you some pretty awesome qualities that I'd like to rediscover.
Friends... if you'll have me, I'd like to reconnect with you also. I can't be completely fulfilled while neglecting the relationships with the amazing people God has placed in my life.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Home of Duke U.
Today has been a busy day. I got up and went to yoga this morning, came home afterward, showered, met up with some friends for lunch, went to my sister's tumbling meet just in time to see her compete, went out with another friend for Frostys, and talked on the phone with the summer camp director. After so much people time, I decided what I needed the most was a little while to just give in to my introvertedness, so I grabbed the book I've been unable to finish for months and nestled into the couch to read. I'd been reading for a while when my phone started ringing. I did not want to get off the couch to answer it, but I am SO glad that I did.
It was Grandmother. After asking how I was and if I was busy, she said, "I called because I have an important question for you."
"Ok," I replied having NO idea what might be coming.
"Your Poppie is working a crossword puzzle and he can't figure out the answer to one of the clues. I already tried calling your mom and your sister, but neither of them would answer."
I laughed, "Alright... I'll see if I can help."
"Ok. The clue is 'Home of Duke U.'"
'I've totally got this one!' I thought, congratulating myself on my basic knowledge of my alma mater's greatest rival. (Go Heels!) "That would be Durham. D-u-r-h-a-m," I answered smugly. I listened as Grandmother repeated the letters to Poppie.
"Durham?" I heard Poppie reply. "That doesn't work. The answer is four letters long!"
'Defeated.' my inner dialogue whispered to me. I thought and thought and could not come up with a four letter word that would answer that clue! "Duke is in Durham, I promise. I just don't know what it could be... let me ask Seth."
So we went through the whole process with Seth. He Googled it, but we found nothing.
"I thought you college educated people were supposed to be smart!" Grandmother said, laughing at all of us for getting so worked up over a stupid crossword puzzle. The truth was, she was as worked up as any of us.
We laughed together and said goodbye, promising to call each other if one of us figured it out. Seth and I couldn't let it go. He looked up the crossword puzzles for the newspaper they get in Kentucky hoping to see that Poppie had maybe been looking at the wrong answer spaces. Not knowing the date of the puzzle, we were at a dead end there unless I called again and found out. Meanwhile, I looked up a crossword dictionary online. After searching for 'Duke,' I thought I had figured out that the answer was "DORM." That makes sense, I thought, so I called Grandmother back.
Poppie had apparently given up on the puzzle and moved on to doing something else, but after I told Grandmother my supposed answer, she said she had thought of that, but not said it, and she called Poppie back into the living room. "Could it be dorm?" she asked.
I heard him mumble in the background and then say that the other letters he had put an 'N' as the first letter. "I guess try "NCAR" for North Carolina," I suggested. (Seth had already thought of this.)
"That's EXACTLY right," I heard Poppie yelling from the background.
"But what does the R stand for?" Grandmother asked.
"NCAR.. like N for North and C-A-R for CARolina," I replied.
Then things just went crazy. Grandmother was laughing, I was laughing, Poppie was yelling at us from the background, and Seth was sitting dejected because I still hadn't figured out the date of the puzzle on which Poppie was working. Then I heard Poppie yell something like, "You're smarter than a (something unintelligible) in a sandbox!"
"I don't even know what that means," I replied.
We exchanged "I love you's" again and got off the phone.
"When we're old, can we call our grandchildren about answers to crossword puzzles?" I asked, putting my arms around Seth's shoulders.
"Yeah... but they'll just tell us to search for it ourselves," he answered.
He's probably right... but for me... those phone calls made my whole day.
It was Grandmother. After asking how I was and if I was busy, she said, "I called because I have an important question for you."
"Ok," I replied having NO idea what might be coming.
"Your Poppie is working a crossword puzzle and he can't figure out the answer to one of the clues. I already tried calling your mom and your sister, but neither of them would answer."
I laughed, "Alright... I'll see if I can help."
"Ok. The clue is 'Home of Duke U.'"
'I've totally got this one!' I thought, congratulating myself on my basic knowledge of my alma mater's greatest rival. (Go Heels!) "That would be Durham. D-u-r-h-a-m," I answered smugly. I listened as Grandmother repeated the letters to Poppie.
"Durham?" I heard Poppie reply. "That doesn't work. The answer is four letters long!"
'Defeated.' my inner dialogue whispered to me. I thought and thought and could not come up with a four letter word that would answer that clue! "Duke is in Durham, I promise. I just don't know what it could be... let me ask Seth."
So we went through the whole process with Seth. He Googled it, but we found nothing.
"I thought you college educated people were supposed to be smart!" Grandmother said, laughing at all of us for getting so worked up over a stupid crossword puzzle. The truth was, she was as worked up as any of us.
We laughed together and said goodbye, promising to call each other if one of us figured it out. Seth and I couldn't let it go. He looked up the crossword puzzles for the newspaper they get in Kentucky hoping to see that Poppie had maybe been looking at the wrong answer spaces. Not knowing the date of the puzzle, we were at a dead end there unless I called again and found out. Meanwhile, I looked up a crossword dictionary online. After searching for 'Duke,' I thought I had figured out that the answer was "DORM." That makes sense, I thought, so I called Grandmother back.
Poppie had apparently given up on the puzzle and moved on to doing something else, but after I told Grandmother my supposed answer, she said she had thought of that, but not said it, and she called Poppie back into the living room. "Could it be dorm?" she asked.
I heard him mumble in the background and then say that the other letters he had put an 'N' as the first letter. "I guess try "NCAR" for North Carolina," I suggested. (Seth had already thought of this.)
"That's EXACTLY right," I heard Poppie yelling from the background.
"But what does the R stand for?" Grandmother asked.
"NCAR.. like N for North and C-A-R for CARolina," I replied.
Then things just went crazy. Grandmother was laughing, I was laughing, Poppie was yelling at us from the background, and Seth was sitting dejected because I still hadn't figured out the date of the puzzle on which Poppie was working. Then I heard Poppie yell something like, "You're smarter than a (something unintelligible) in a sandbox!"
"I don't even know what that means," I replied.
We exchanged "I love you's" again and got off the phone.
"When we're old, can we call our grandchildren about answers to crossword puzzles?" I asked, putting my arms around Seth's shoulders.
"Yeah... but they'll just tell us to search for it ourselves," he answered.
He's probably right... but for me... those phone calls made my whole day.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Nothing for Christmas
Dear Precious Student,
When I first saw you, I have to admit, I was a little bit afraid. You're a big guy, clearly an athelete, and I thought that ear-to-ear smile you were wearing was there only to mock me. It did not take long, however, for me to realize that that smile is wonderfully genuine and defines the essence of who you are. It turns out, it has been an immense pleasure to be your teacher this year, and you have touched my heart and inspired me in so many ways that a simple "thank you" isn't enough.
I don't think I will ever forget the story you told me just the other day. I asked you if you'd gotten anything good for Christmas and you said, "No ma'am. I didn't get anything for Christmas." I tilted my head to the side inquisitively, yet your smile didn't even flicker. "We do Christmas differently at my house," you said without being prompted. "Instead of giving gifts to each other, we buy gifts for foster kids and then go to a foster home on Christmas morning to cook breakfast and hand out presents." You stood there beaming, obviously happier to give than to receive.
I don't know if you saw it, but I got a bit teary-eyed. You are unlike any other student I have taught in my somewhat short career. Teenagers, especially teenagers like you (if you give credit to stereotypes), are supposed to be selfish and materialistic. They're supposed to take and take without giving back. They're supposed find fleeting happiness in gifts only to have a new list of what they want ready to proclaim minutes later. And as for me... I'm supposed to be the good example to you. I'm your teacher! Yet, you have demonstrated love, sacrifice, and joy better than I ever could. I can't speak for the foster kids, but you gave me a great Christmas present this year.
I know things are difficult sometimes. I know that school is far from easy for you and that life at home can be crazy. I know that girls can be fickle and stupid and that it hurts you when they are. I know that you're trying your best, and sometimes it doesn't seem to be good enough. I just want you to know, you're doing a great job. You're going to make it. Thank you for the example you set for me... and thank you for that big, goofy smile.
Love,
Mrs. Markwood
When I first saw you, I have to admit, I was a little bit afraid. You're a big guy, clearly an athelete, and I thought that ear-to-ear smile you were wearing was there only to mock me. It did not take long, however, for me to realize that that smile is wonderfully genuine and defines the essence of who you are. It turns out, it has been an immense pleasure to be your teacher this year, and you have touched my heart and inspired me in so many ways that a simple "thank you" isn't enough.
I don't think I will ever forget the story you told me just the other day. I asked you if you'd gotten anything good for Christmas and you said, "No ma'am. I didn't get anything for Christmas." I tilted my head to the side inquisitively, yet your smile didn't even flicker. "We do Christmas differently at my house," you said without being prompted. "Instead of giving gifts to each other, we buy gifts for foster kids and then go to a foster home on Christmas morning to cook breakfast and hand out presents." You stood there beaming, obviously happier to give than to receive.
I don't know if you saw it, but I got a bit teary-eyed. You are unlike any other student I have taught in my somewhat short career. Teenagers, especially teenagers like you (if you give credit to stereotypes), are supposed to be selfish and materialistic. They're supposed to take and take without giving back. They're supposed find fleeting happiness in gifts only to have a new list of what they want ready to proclaim minutes later. And as for me... I'm supposed to be the good example to you. I'm your teacher! Yet, you have demonstrated love, sacrifice, and joy better than I ever could. I can't speak for the foster kids, but you gave me a great Christmas present this year.
I know things are difficult sometimes. I know that school is far from easy for you and that life at home can be crazy. I know that girls can be fickle and stupid and that it hurts you when they are. I know that you're trying your best, and sometimes it doesn't seem to be good enough. I just want you to know, you're doing a great job. You're going to make it. Thank you for the example you set for me... and thank you for that big, goofy smile.
Love,
Mrs. Markwood
Monday, January 3, 2011
Frustrated, Confused, and Searching
I'm going back to camp this summer.
It's weird to say it. When I finished up my summer in 2008 with the knowledge that I'd be getting married in October, I thought I had reached the definite end of my stint at camp. It is an all girls camp, and in many ways, it defined my life and my ministry up until I became a teacher. And now, two years later, I'm going back.
In lieu of an official application, the camp director (who is also a dear friend of mine) asked me to write an essay describing what my life has been like since I left and explaining my reasoning for wanting to go back. I've started writing it a dozen times, and I swear I have never had so much trouble writing anything in my whole life.
I think it all boils down to this: I don't know why I'm going back.
Before making my decision, I talked with my husband and together we made a list of all the pros and cons. The list was fairly even... hardly a decision maker. I prayed about it for several weeks, and in my heart, I just knew that I should go back. When my family and friends ask me about it, I explain the logic behind it (basically just listing the "pros") because it is easy to understand, but when I sit down to write that essay and get to the truth about why I'm returning, I don't know why.
This year has been so frustrating in so many ways. On one hand, I know that teaching is my ministry right now. I know that I have been designed to do this job and that all of my life experiences have prepared me for it. I know that I am exactly where I need to be career-wise at the moment. I know that I am happiest when I'm leading a discussion or laughing with my students. On the other hand, I feel like I'm supposed to be doing more... or something different... or I don't even know. I feel dissatisfied, uncomfortable, anxious, and itchy... like something else is coming... something just beyond the horizon so that I can not rationalize running from it nor can I prepare for meeting it. I feel disorganized and disturbed.
I've also been frustrated this year because Seth has been helping to plant a church. Now, that is a good thing, and honestly, I am happy for him and more proud of him than I can express. However, I am out of the loop. I would be so good at doing things for that church, and yet, I don't feel called to be much a part of it outside of encouraging Seth. The sitting back and watching and only helping when asked is about to drive me crazy! I am full of ideas, and (I'm not trying to be prideful here) I am gifted in areas that could help this church, but I'm separated from it. I am helpless.
So why is God calling me back to camp? On a personal level, I can only hope it is to help me refocus. I think I have gotten so tied up in trying to know God's plan for me that I have forgotten about trying to know God. Camp has meant something totally different to me every year I have been there, and God has often spoken directly to my heart through the ministry, the staff, the missionaries, the campers, the trees, the sounds, the smells, and even the air at camp. I am praying that He will do that again. I miss the sound of His voice.
I am also aware, however, that God does not call women to camp simply to talk to them. Camp is a ministry, and ministries are all about serving God by loving people. I take comfort in the fact that I will be able to openly share God's love with staff and campers this summer. While I am passionate about ministering through teaching, it is exhausting to have to be so wary and cautious all the time. I want to be able to talk about how much Jesus loves me and sacrificed for me. I want to be able to pray with people and talk about the Bible on more than an academic, literary level. I am thrilled about the opportunity to define myself as a "child of God" for a summer instead of a "teacher who believes she is a child of God, but isn't forcing that belief on anyone else." That desire, coupled with the administrative experiences I have had as a teacher and the assistant director in the past, comprise a unique skill set that will hopefully be an asset to camp this summer.
I guess ultimately, I have to just say that while there are tons of "reasons" why I should go back to camp, the only one that really matters is that I am certain it is what I am supposed to do. It would be a lot easier to stay home and sleep the summer away for the third year in a row. It would be a lot more comfortable to stay with my husband upon whom I have become incredibly dependent. It would be quieter, more peaceful, more conducive to my academic schedule, and more relaxing to not work at camp. But it would be disobedient.I don't know for certain why God wants me back in that place, but I know that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him. That's a good enough reason for me.
Maybe that's what I should say in my essay.
It's weird to say it. When I finished up my summer in 2008 with the knowledge that I'd be getting married in October, I thought I had reached the definite end of my stint at camp. It is an all girls camp, and in many ways, it defined my life and my ministry up until I became a teacher. And now, two years later, I'm going back.
In lieu of an official application, the camp director (who is also a dear friend of mine) asked me to write an essay describing what my life has been like since I left and explaining my reasoning for wanting to go back. I've started writing it a dozen times, and I swear I have never had so much trouble writing anything in my whole life.
I think it all boils down to this: I don't know why I'm going back.
Before making my decision, I talked with my husband and together we made a list of all the pros and cons. The list was fairly even... hardly a decision maker. I prayed about it for several weeks, and in my heart, I just knew that I should go back. When my family and friends ask me about it, I explain the logic behind it (basically just listing the "pros") because it is easy to understand, but when I sit down to write that essay and get to the truth about why I'm returning, I don't know why.
This year has been so frustrating in so many ways. On one hand, I know that teaching is my ministry right now. I know that I have been designed to do this job and that all of my life experiences have prepared me for it. I know that I am exactly where I need to be career-wise at the moment. I know that I am happiest when I'm leading a discussion or laughing with my students. On the other hand, I feel like I'm supposed to be doing more... or something different... or I don't even know. I feel dissatisfied, uncomfortable, anxious, and itchy... like something else is coming... something just beyond the horizon so that I can not rationalize running from it nor can I prepare for meeting it. I feel disorganized and disturbed.
I've also been frustrated this year because Seth has been helping to plant a church. Now, that is a good thing, and honestly, I am happy for him and more proud of him than I can express. However, I am out of the loop. I would be so good at doing things for that church, and yet, I don't feel called to be much a part of it outside of encouraging Seth. The sitting back and watching and only helping when asked is about to drive me crazy! I am full of ideas, and (I'm not trying to be prideful here) I am gifted in areas that could help this church, but I'm separated from it. I am helpless.
So why is God calling me back to camp? On a personal level, I can only hope it is to help me refocus. I think I have gotten so tied up in trying to know God's plan for me that I have forgotten about trying to know God. Camp has meant something totally different to me every year I have been there, and God has often spoken directly to my heart through the ministry, the staff, the missionaries, the campers, the trees, the sounds, the smells, and even the air at camp. I am praying that He will do that again. I miss the sound of His voice.
I am also aware, however, that God does not call women to camp simply to talk to them. Camp is a ministry, and ministries are all about serving God by loving people. I take comfort in the fact that I will be able to openly share God's love with staff and campers this summer. While I am passionate about ministering through teaching, it is exhausting to have to be so wary and cautious all the time. I want to be able to talk about how much Jesus loves me and sacrificed for me. I want to be able to pray with people and talk about the Bible on more than an academic, literary level. I am thrilled about the opportunity to define myself as a "child of God" for a summer instead of a "teacher who believes she is a child of God, but isn't forcing that belief on anyone else." That desire, coupled with the administrative experiences I have had as a teacher and the assistant director in the past, comprise a unique skill set that will hopefully be an asset to camp this summer.
I guess ultimately, I have to just say that while there are tons of "reasons" why I should go back to camp, the only one that really matters is that I am certain it is what I am supposed to do. It would be a lot easier to stay home and sleep the summer away for the third year in a row. It would be a lot more comfortable to stay with my husband upon whom I have become incredibly dependent. It would be quieter, more peaceful, more conducive to my academic schedule, and more relaxing to not work at camp. But it would be disobedient.I don't know for certain why God wants me back in that place, but I know that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him. That's a good enough reason for me.
Maybe that's what I should say in my essay.
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