Mission Adventure camp is where I worked the summer of 2010. It had been a really rough fall-spring (summation: parents house burnt down, aunt died, had Swine Flu, first boyfriend [ever] broke up with me; and the first three happened the same week!) and I needed to go someplace where I could serve others and not obsess about my own problems but at the same time work through them with some Godly encouragement. Also I wanted a complete break from all boys. The Seminary bunch had burnt me out. So at my friends persistent encouragement I applied to work at the Mission Adventure Camp. At that time it was an all-girls camp and had all-girl staff. Perfect!
Despite nostalgic memories of laughter, tears, and frustrations, I really did like the program. Its biblical and very kid-friendly. A good mix of crafts, games, and the Gospel. So last year I took my Wednesday Night girls and this year was able to bring five of them back and one girl who usually only comes on Sunday Mornings.
Now did I say that it was a great program and I had great memories there? Well let me add to that. Since it was an all-girl setting when I was there and since I take only girls who are all now easing into middle-school and hormones are beginning to rage and (they're from rough backgrounds which gives them NO functional coping mechanisms for anything) there is a lot of drama. And bugs, but the drama is worse than the bugs. Usually. So I have kind of a love-hate relationship with camp. I love it because the program is amazing, the staff is always awesome, the camp director ought to be sainted if baptists believed in such things. And the results in my girls' hearts and thoughts are always profound. But maaaaaan... I have to work my BUTT off! And not physically. It is the most emotionally harrowing experience. I'm short on sleep the whole time, I sweat like a pig and stink, both of which make me crabby, I'm surrounded by dear dainty southern-baptist belles who never lose their tempers (do they even HAVE tempers??) and who are all at least 15 years older than me. I'm not at my best at all. And I have to be a saintly example to these dear little heatherns from a Section 8 neighborhood.
I'd rather be plopped into a village of bickering Gypsies!!
However since a lot of the issues were the same as the girl who got saved at the beginning of the month had last year, I was also hoping and praying that this was merely some pre-salvation meltdowns. And despite all the upheaval, it definitely showed me some new ways to be praying regularly for these girls.
I was beyond happy to get home though!