Care (Or, The Problems Associated With Its Absence)

I used to pray for all of my campers every night. I can't believe that I did, now, but I used to. Most nights, after I had convinced myself that they were at least being sneaky about their late night conversations, I would sneak into the bathroom where the light was left on all night and sit crossed legged on the counter and write in a big fat notebook endless prayers for my girls. I'd pray for their families and for their safety, but mostly it was for the interpersonal conflicts and the fears they had. I'd pray for one girl to be able to see God in the world and be happy and for another girl to see how wonderful she is and find her worth in herself and for another one to open up to me enough so I could find out how best to talk to her and how to get her to get along with everyone else. I'd pray especially for the ones who didn't like me, because that's generally the first step to me not liking you and it's a long week when you can't like every one of your campers. Even on the nights when I laid down exhausted in my bed convinced that my head would hit the pillow and I would no choice but to succumb to sleep's greater power, my conscious would beat my brain and I'd at least hit the highlights and ask God to bless every one of my campers.

It was a little weird the week I was in the kitchen because suddenly I didn't have any campers. Well, that's a lie, the entire camp were my campers, but I didn't have this group of six or seven or eight to care for intensely. I prayed for the conflicts I saw and for the counselors and staff and hoped it was enough. I started to notice a whole new group of people. I got to know the rest of the staff better because I had to. It's a little hard to pray with the depth I was used to for people whose hearts you hadn't even begun to know. So at the same time that I was very lost, I was found, just in a different place than I had ever been before.

I wish I could tell you all last week's campers' stories, but I wasn't there enough to get to know them all. The last time I was a counselor, I wrote letters for all of my campers and left them on their beds. I used to sneak away during the dance party on Thursday to get them written, or take an extra break during the day, because I didn't want them to all be generic. I had a wonderful group of individual girls every week and they all deserved a letter that told them specifically what beautiful traits they had. I only ever had one camper leave hers and I saw her again this week. If you've never been in a caring relationship strong enough to cause the other person's face to light up when they see you again, I strongly recommend it. Best feeling ever. And I love that she calls me by my first name only so see can rhyme it with hers.

We were all sitting outside in the gazebo, all of the girl counselors and me and Kayla and then most of the girl campers. Sunday afternoons are my fav. I really love the time before the campers come when you're making up the beds and I used to love sitting on the swing in the gazebo waiting on the first campers to come down from registration. Sunday afternoon is a clean slate, a blank canvas that beautiful pictures are always painted on. I love it. So here was Sunday afternoon and here were a ton of girls who I did not know. Maigan named off some of her campers and I said that I didn't know anybody and she said, "You know Kiki."

And I did. You know how your aunts and uncles and grandparents and other distant relations look at you in surprise and say how you've grown? They either do that because they don't know what else to say or because you've grown a lot and you do not look like the person you used to. You're taller, your face looks different, your voice is different, maybe you even smile differently. Kira was my first ever camper. I remember because I could not for the life of me say her name right and I kept repeating, "Like Cairo, except Ky-ra." Then she went by Kiki for the rest of the week and it was a little useless, but whatever, it was still worth the time. And she has grown up, oh goodness has she grown. She came up from this quiet, possibly scared little kid into this wonderfully confident teenager. She also talks a lot more now and has a little bit more sass than I'd like, but she's pulled a butterfly and I can't imagine what I did to be privileged enough to see it.

I got to know new campers, even some of the boys, which wasn't hardly possible before. I heard a lot of who liked who and I can believe Kira when she talks about the drama that happened all week. Life lesson- never have a crush on a counselor when you're a camper and never tell other campers that you have a crush because that's just asking for a long week of taunting. I'm generally in the habit of stopping it, but I was really amazed this week when I told a camper to behave and -gasp!- they didn't listen. Because I'm not in their world this week. If they know me, they yell when I come and they're sad when I go, but to most of the kids, I was just another person who showed up randomly and talked probably too much. There's no reason to listen to this girl, even though she's sitting on the lifeguard stand or even if she's the same age as the counselors. She's not here with us all the time and she probably doesn't care.

I hate that I'm not in their world. I hate that I'm out here and they're in there, thinking less of me. I hate that I can't help, that I can't listen, that I can't be there, that I can't take action, that I have no idea what to pray about. I don't know what they need, I don't know what they want, I don't know if they're loved, I don't know if someone cares about them, I don't know who's disappointed them and I don't know what they dream about. I hate that I spent Friday morning reading articles on caring instead of going to camp. I hate that I still have Cookie's letter, hidden back behind a note from one of my other campers that she framed for me. I hate that I still have that pair of earrings that I was going to give to that kid who lost one, because he reminded me of someone else who got their ear pierced and decided to wear ridiculously large fake diamond studs. I hate that I didn't get to help and I hate that on a Sunday night, I'm sitting here with homework to do, smelling like an ice cream store and not at a campfire, smelling like marshmallows and lighter fluid, because my best afternoon scooping ice cream still sucks compared to the worst night being at camp.

I think I'm going to pray again tonight.