Seeing God Work

I've been away working at a Christian summer youth camp for a week and what an amazing week it was!  I felt truly blessed and honoured to be there.  What happened?  Well, grab a cuppa and a biscuit, put your feet up and read on. 

I should probably explain what this camp was so that you understand.  Camp was not 'camping', there was not a tent in sight or, needless to say, I would not have been there.  After my last experience with a tent where the inflatable bed started to deflate during the night which made my husband and I roll together and get stuck in the middle of the darn thing with 2 inflated sides which would allow no escape; ducks who insisted on doing a night raid around our tent and thought it was great fun to try and pull the guy ropes out; camping on the side of a hill (hubby's great idea) so that we awoke in the morning down the bottom of the tent where we had slid down with the dog on top of our heads, I'm not a lover of camping.  This camp was a residential setting where adult leaders and approximately 43 teenagers stayed in dorms in a fantastic old building (nice comfy beds and warm showers, my kinda camping).  We had morning and evening meetings where we learnt about God, built friendships and throughout the day we had outdoor activities.  Ah the activities...more about them later.  

It's hard to know where to begin when telling this story.  Do I start at the very beginning of the journey where my husband directed me to the wrong ferry port at 6am and I then had to race in my car to the other ferry port at high speed, praying all the way, cursing all the cute fluffy bunnies that kept leaping out on us and trying to make us crash and listening to my husband sob and squeak "I want to live!  I want to live!  Please God, I want to live"?  

Maybe I should start during the leaders training weekend, a behind the scenes look where we invented ceilidh style extreme ping pong (or table tennis, no table necessary).  I never knew ping pong could be so viscous nor how much a ping pong ball hurts when it hits you in the face (thanks to the very tall dude for that who then brutally laughed, you know who you are!).  Or when we all played catapults by tying together elastic bands, attaching the elastic bands to our big toes and then 'pinged' bits of paper at one another.  Again, this is very painful when you've got a young, strong American lad who pings the paper at your face and who is then rude enough to avoid all the bits of paper you try to ping back at him grrrr.  

It was a serious training weekend but the fun bits are, well, fun.  Our serious bits were good and everything was going well until the leaders had to say which activities they would do.  As I said earlier, there were activities most of which were outdoor ones, I'm sure you can possibly see where this is going with me.  We began with canoeing and kayaking, faces turned to me.  Um, no, I can't swim.  Ok, next activity - caving.  Me "Are you serious?  Look how tall I am?  I'm sure it's against health and safety regulations to put someone my size into a tight, dark hole".  Ok, next....mountain biking.  When I managed to catch my breath from laughing they realised that the answer was probably no.  The last time I was on a bike I was 8 years old and as soon as I climbed on it I promptly fell off.  I'm also, only ever so slightly unfit.  Not biking then.  I wasn't offered the high ropes as I had never done it before and couldn't tie off the ropes....awww but I really wanted to do that one, ahem.  Sailing - can't swim.  Gorge walking - seriously?  Why would I want to go for a walk where I'll get soaked?  If I wanted that I'd go out in the rain.  Crafts - YES, I mean, yeah sure!  I can do crafts.  I am brilliant at stick men.  Crafts is good and no-one else seemed too keen to do them.  For the sake of the other leaders, I'll take the crafts hahaha.  I also volunteered to do the first aid with the teenagers.  This sadly did not happen due to the paramedic unfortunately breaking her ankle, I kid you not.  

So with the training weekend over and done with the leaders waited with baited breath for the teenagers to come (and while we waited we ate jam doughnuts - it was tough week haha).  The teens came and the week began and I truly don't know how to explain it.  Going into every detail would take too long and become boring.  Skimming over it makes it sound unimportant, so how do I tell you about it.  Perhaps in the way that my memory works.  Laughter, singing, eating together and laughing and joking, the meetings where we read the bible and learnt together, the small groups where we gathered to discuss what we had learnt during the meetings, drinking tea and sitting in the sun talking about favourite bands and music, wet teens running around when they came back from a wet activity, funny stories and the list goes on.  

My treasured memories are during the small groups, a twelve year old taught me something about my faith that, although I had heard it a hundred times before, had never really taken it in and understood it.  Their simple outlook and explanation really hit home with me and blew me away and the smile on their face when I told them that they had taught me something was amazing.  Sitting outside in the sun, drinking tea, discussing a band with a teen that we both love.  I loved this conversation because we went from discussing our love for the music to how in the lyrics you could hear that these people have everything that a lot of people long for (fame, money etc) but are desperately lonely and unhappy.  This led to discussing the Christian faith, topics we had covered earlier in the week and then back to the music.  It was a natural flowing conversation and it was great to connect with the young people and to hear their views and thoughts.  Watching the youngsters participate in the talent show - we had a rapper, a guitarist, a rocker (who did Paint It Black, totally rocked), a singer (Your song) which brought tears to my eyes and a dance act (cha cha slide).  These youngsters were fantastic!  I was so proud of each and every one of them for being brave enough to get up there and perform and their gifts were amazing.  They bought tears to my eyes and I'm not one that easily cries.  Finally, my most treasured memory, on the last morning, the youngsters were asked to remain standing if they had experienced God throughout the week or had decided to have a relationship with Him.  In all honesty, I expected most of them to sit down.  In truth, only 5 or 6 sat down.  Out of 43 children, about 37 teenagers remained standing for God.  To see God working in them, touching their lives, it was awesome and humbling.  I was astounded and yes, I cried.  The beauty, seeing God work, witnessing this was brilliant.  I struggle to try and describe it.  Amazing.  

So after this, we made sure that our youngsters knew about clubs, meetings, etc that they could come along to so that they can grow within the faith.  Then it was time to say goodbye.  There were tears, photos, hugs, waving and suddenly it was quiet.  The leaders packed away all the tech stuff, checked the dorms were clean and that was us away.  Of course, my story doesn't quite end there.  

In my small car I had 4 people and something like 8 bags/cases (I was giving lifts to the train station).  Hubby was squashed into the back along with a suitcase and tall dude who had his suitcase on his lap with our youngster in the front (who couldn't help but giggle and occasionally mention the leg room that they plenty of).  Well, I had to stop for ferry tickets (yes another ferry) and as I came out of the shop I saw hubby squeezing back into the car.  I thought that I would be helpful and closed the back door as I got in so that he wouldn't have to.  Instead of a thank you I was greeted with a howl and a moan that I had now hurt his side.  Tut, no gratitude.  On the ferry, tall dude, youngster and I are chatting whilst hubby is mumbling away to himself.  On the road hubby carries on moaning that it hurt when I shut the door.  After a while I told him to shut up and stop being such a drama queen.  I had apologised and I won't shut the door for him again.  Well, after a hospital trip on Sunday, turns out I'd busted his ribs when I shut the door, oops.  That's me eating humble pie then.  

God bless.