My Illinois Adventure.

    I am not a risk taker. I tend to stay on the "safe" side to avoid anything crazy. But what happens when God calls you outside of the "safe"? This summer, I went just that- crazy. I randomly, yet not-so-randomly, decided to drive 8 hours to a tiny, wonderful town in the Midwest full of corn, cows, and a really confusing square: Greenville, Illinois. You should have seen the look on people's faces when I told them I was from Mississippi and knew not a single soul until I arrived. "Why did you choose this place," they would ask. I didn't know the answer either. I went up there very excited because I knew there was a reason I was drawn there where everyone that worked had connections instead of anywhere else more logical, but I did not expect God to move in me the way He did. In just six weeks, Durley rocked my world more than anything has ever rocked it before.

    When I was driving up and got about an hour away, I panicked and immediately decided I may turn around. The only thing that stopped me was a text from my director, Rachel, (perfect timing, I tell you) asking when I would be there. I figured responding to that with "you need to find a new counselor" wasn't going to win me any style points with her. Upon arriving, I was all sorts of scared. I had been looking forward to meeting Rachel and the rest of the staff up until pulling in when this became my thought process: "Should I hug people? Will they like me? Will I like them? Aren't people up North not friendly (never believe stereotypes, guys). I'm so weird. They're all in the same shirt. I totally don't know what I'm doing. Who will I live with? Will they be creepy? Do I get to eat tonight? Should I have already eaten? Oh my gosh, I think she's hugging me. I love hugs. I'll hug her back. Okay, they're waving at me. Oh! Score, I just got invited to dinner and a movie. These people might not be so bad.....but I am still scared." Okay, go ahead and laugh. Looking back now, I certainly do. That night was go good. I was asked questions, they laughed with me, I was picked on- because after all, I did sound like a hillbilly to them. I even realized Rachel and I shared the same, sort of obscure favorite movie. It was that night I knew this summer was going to be something great.

    During staff training, I met some more people, but at this point still pretty scared to let loose. Not to mention we played "I'm going on a picnic" game, and I was one of the last to go out of forty people....I knew not a single name at that point, so it was interesting. I was introduced to all of the camp songs and prayers, none of which I picked up on that night. They did not warn me, however, that within a week, I would be singing these songs in my head 24/7, whether I wanted to be or not.

    I wish I could literally tell every detail about what I experienced, but I don't feel like I am supposed to share every moment of my summer through a blog post (however if you want to know, feel free to ask). I will say this though. Every bit of anxiety and fear I had turned into peace and joy. I made so many incredible friendships. I never went on a break without being invited to hang out with someone (although sometimes I desperately needed to introvert). The staff was always ready to encourage each other after having a few rough campers or cabin huddles.

    Speaking of campers, mine each week were fantastic. Tiring and challenging, and some days even extremely discouraging, but I loved it nonetheless. They were really the ones that pushed me to be goofy and carefree- after all, if the counselor isn't energized, the kids won't be either. And boy, is that true! I forget sometimes how innocent and honest children are, and there were many days when I needed that sweet reminder. Usually every morning around 8am, I can picture of of us singing the doxology, saying the Apostle's Creed, and conversing over what we're praising God for today- now I do parts of that routine by myself. Something I was told from day one and will probably carry forever is this: "Sometimes the kids that are hardest to love are the ones that need love the most." This statement was repeated so much this summer, and really I have no clue what goes on outside of the boundaries of camp, so why not love them with my whole heart while I had them?

    Returning home has been every bit of weird. First of all, the experience of living back under your family for the first time in over a year is quite odd and trying. I just miss camp where everyone gets the summer.  I  try to tell people here about camp, and it's so nice to talk about it, but it is also really hard. They try to get it, and I am so thankful for people that are willing to listen, but they can't get it because it's only an experience I have. I am still very much so at the stage where almost anything can connect me back to camp, a camper, a staff member, a song we sing, a game we played, a weird thing that happened, a memory of any sort. Not to mention, I miss my friends up there like crazy. I think the hardest part is knowing it will probably be a while until I see them again and that our relationship will be too different as our old lives have continued. I can no longer make work seem like new adventures. I feel like the Lord was so present this summer-what if that all ends because I go back to normal routine life?

***Secret: God doesn't stop working just because a season ends***

    This all did not hit me until the morning I left. I went and sat on the very empty dock of the lake, and all I could do was picture all the things that would normally be happening- Sam sitting in her lifeguard chair, me playing with her hair, Isaac being climbed on by all the kids, paddle boats all across the lake. I sat and cried for a while, then kept crying until about an hour into my trip. It was then that I realized that this place had very quickly come to feel like home, and I wouldn't ever get this same summer back.

    HOWEVER. I am not writing this to make anyone feel sorry for me or that I am not thankful for the time I spend at camp. Every moment there makes the pain I feel coming home SO worth it, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I realize there are a lot of people coming home from their camps in in these coming weeks, and it's a tough spot. It's not something someone can tell you about to prepare you; it's a personal experience.

    Remember at the beginning when I said I tend to play it safe? Well, the key word, used to. I'm not about to go jump off of a mountain or anything (Really, who can do that?), but even though right now my heart is sad and longs to return, I also am trying to keep the perspective that this crazy summer of completely new experiences and people turned out so perfectly. Now, instead of being scared of new things and wondering if they'll be too scary, it's time to just start trusting that it will be a growth process. It's okay to be upset over the closing of certain doors, but I want to be exciting for the things ahead and the present moments I do still have.

    In the meantime, I am grateful for this summer I realized that God often works the deepest when we allow ourselves to be broken, where I actually touched a frog, where I learned to like plain black coffee, where I fell in love with St. Louis (seriously, guys, it's amazing the impact that city had), where I experienced canoeing for the first time, where I tried gooey butter cake and Thai food, where I got to participate in the sweetest engagement of the century, where I got good at asking deep questions, where I French braided someone's hair at least once a day, where I received a total of 67 letters/packages (you people back home rock at encouragement!), where I chose Mario's in the great pizza debate, where I found out I am claustrophobic, and where I had to produce more energy in a day than I ever had in my life for children.