A Most Incredible Devastation

My third session at camp now resides in the books, and it’s with legitimate sadness that I type this recap, because this session – these precious kids – rocked my world. And now it’s over. Now they’re gone. My role as “camp counselor” took on elevated meaning and purpose as nine incredible Tennesseeans flooded my cabin for a couple weeks.

They would change my life.

The Most Unity I’ve Seen

This session was unique from the previous two in that eight of my nine campers go to the same school. They know each other from back home and have been coming to camp together for a few summers now. The lone “outsider” was anything but that; he fit into our cabin immediately.

I knew I was in for something special this session when they first entered the cabin with their bubbly parents and hanging closet organizers.

Everybody got along from the git-go. Everybody worked together seamlessly. Everybody loved camp, loved their cabin-mates, loved their counselors.

It was beautiful. Neither me nor my co-counselor ever had to get onto anyone about anything, really. Everyone did as he was supposed to, and it made our “jobs” as counselors all the easier.

Instead of constantly telling kids to kill the grunge under their bunks and not kill each other, I could focus more on hanging out with them. And I had so much more fun this session.

The Most Fun I’ve Had

There were several instances this session in which I consciously recognized the uptick in fun-levels I was experiencing. The first of such moments occurred the very first night during a game of “Riotball,” a crazy concoction of a four-way kickball game. My cabin was completely into it, and I found myself completely immersed too.

A third of my cabin took volleyball skill with me, and I loved getting to hang out with those guys beyond the cabin. They frequently bragged how much they loved volleyball and how much fun they were having.

All their fun made me, in turn, have so much fun. I can’t begin to write an adequate recap regarding all the “fun” moments I shared with my cabin this session. I essentially forgot I was even “working” these last two weeks. When it came time for my day off last week, I actually wanted to stay on site with the kids.

Alas, I forced myself to flee camp that day for my own mental good. Or something.

The Most Strength I’ve Felt

Before camp started, I got to speak in front of a couple hundred people at my church in California. It was easily one of the most defining moments of my life, filling me with unparalleled levels of confidence regarding public speaking or any impending, “impossible” task.

Well, last week I stepped up to the plate and swung with another speaking opportunity before my entire tribe. Was I nervous? Definitely. “Sickened” would actually be a more adequate word.

But I did it.

I spoke about the Indian name I received at the very first Council Ring and how my “traveling” moniker extends far beyond a meandering Eastward Ho road-trip across America. How I’ve been traveling, wandering all my life, desperately yearning for Home like the famed heroes of Hebrews 11. Verses 13-16 are just awesome.

Standing at a podium before dozens of kids and fellow counselors alike, I can’t begin to explain how my bumbling self got through it. Gotta hand it to the Spirit once again; He’s really good at that strength-in-weakness stuff.

Amen.

Quickie Memories

• My second rainy campout! The hike went fine, and we even got to see some sweet waterfalls. But by nightfall it was raining buckets, and pretty much everyone got wet. Still, I wear only a smile when I think back on holding up a holey tarp while my co-counselor delivered an incredible devotion on Jesus’ faithfulness through the storm.
• SO. MANY. WATERBALLOONS.

• A zombies vs. humans sock war in which the zombies successfully overtook the camp. Basically, the “bad” guys always win sock war. Chalk it up for next session too.
• Struggling to wear a straight face when me and my co-counselor told our campers nobody would get promoted at Council Ring, only to promote every last one of them.
• Making my first tie-dye shirt since I was in VBS. Why has it been so long?
• GLADIATOR NIGHT. This thing was NUTS. But what a blast for the kids. They were so into it.

• Winning a “fiesta” with Jose and Jose, two of the hilarious “characters” from this session. The best part of the night was simply admiring the perpetual smiles on my kids’ faces as Jose and Jose told the story of how a magical toucan first introduced them to each other on some mystical island.
• A tear-ridden, multi-session camper hugging counselors and campers goodbye on the last day of this session. This kid grew a ton from the beginning of the summer; it’s awesome to recognize the impact camp may forever have on his life. I’m still moved by the sight of him days later.
• And finally, winning Honor Cabin: the best cabin in the entire tribe! My boys killed it this session with cabin inspections, skits, and general enthusiasm/awesomeness. They rocked. Which brings me to the end of this session…

The Most Tears I’ve Shed

I dreaded the inevitable moment all session long. The moment I’d have to say goodbye to nine incredible boys.

Am I silly for gulping back tears as their parents whisked them away one-by-one? This is what I signed up for, right? To meet kids and live with them for two jam-packed weeks, only for them to go home as I probably never see them again?

I hated saying goodbye to them.

When I reentered my silent empty abandoned cabin, I felt such a strong sucker-punch to my gut. They were really gone.

Growing up, I never experienced the blessing of a tight community of boys – at school, and certainly not in a magical environment like summer camp. In many ways, I lived vicariously through my boys’ experience this summer. And now that they’re gone, I feel absolutely wrecked. Defeated. Splintered.

I have one session remaining this summer – two measly weeks – and I somehow need to re-gather the broken pieces of myself. God’s done it before, and I’m certain He’ll do it again.

But gosh, I’m devastated that I’ll never relive the last two weeks of my life ever again. How do you move forward from two weeks of bliss? I guess I’ll find out, one way or the other.

Trout out.

– Traveling Golden Trout