I am home now. Tuesday was my last day of work and the past few days have been really busy.
A few thoughts on this summer:
I cannot work again for Kent (my supervisor). It's a frustrating and exhausting experience.
I miss my kids and counselors.
I miss having daily hugs.
Camp is no longer my life as it was in past years.
This summer was full of surprises (both unpleasant and wonderful).
I will never again work a job that requires so much of my time and energy (and sanity).
God was present in ways I never imagined possible.
A few thoughts on the next weeks before school:
I wish I was on my way to El Salvador.
I need to practice guitar again (I wasn't able to play much this summer).
My reading goal is to finish Harry Potter 5 and Angels and Demons.
I'm going to be incredibly bored until everyone gets home.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Friday, July 31, 2009
My reflection paper for Field Ed
The past nine weeks have left me exhausted. This was my third field education placement and my third year as staff at this camp – and yet I feel as though I was still unprepared for what waited for me this summer.
As program director and chaplain, not only am I an intern, but I am also a boss. I have a direct supervisor who has been at the camp for twenty years and is an ordained elder. I share responsibilities with two other senior staff and manage twelve counselors. These counselors are between the age of seventeen and twenty-three (which proves to also be a huge difference in maturity levels as well). I am responsible for reviewing their weekly schedules, disciplining their unruly campers, evaluating their performance as staff, and managing any other crises that may arise.
One of my counselors has abusive parents. Two are dealing with their parents’ complicated divorces. One has been in the care of his demanding aunt and uncle since he was taken from his parents ten years ago. Another nearly overdosed after a difficult break up about a year ago. Two counselors have started a relationship and are overly affectionate around campers. One decided to quit two days before our last day of camp. I have been with them twenty four hours a day, six days a week.
Along with the varied histories of my staff, each week brings different backgrounds and personalities among the children who attend camp. We’ve had a child whose father appeared uninvited, a child who had nightly bedwetting issues, several children in foster care, almost all of the children from broken families, the handful of kids who have unusual medical anomalies (such as the girl allergic to the outdoors or the boy with chronic nosebleeds), the adolescent who doled out death threats, and the countless children who suffer from homesickness. Each week brings new surprises.
I don’t mean to say that my entire summer has been a catastrophe. The truth is quite the opposite, and there have been moments where God’s presence has been powerfully overwhelming. I watched one of my counselors give a closing campfire message that brought me to tears: four years ago I was present at the closing campfire in which she committed her life to Christ. I connected with so many campers who just need someone to love. I’ve been humbled to take the broken body and blood of Christ from my broken counselors. I’ve been part of God’s obvious presence in ways I didn’t imagine God could appear. However, you cannot prepare for these moments – they don’t "get better" with practice.
I do struggle with being unprepared for the other issues. I struggle with how to give constructive criticism with a counselor who refuses to do her job. I struggle with how to pretend everything is okay when a camper’s grandmother died and she doesn’t know. I struggle with how to handle abusive parents telling me their daughter is terrible when she radiates Christ. I want to know when my education is going to kick in and give me the right words to say. I understand field ed is for developing these skills, but I feel like I’m not prepared for field ed.
I’m aware camp is an intensified immersion experience – working full time in the church did not bring this many issues over the course of two years – but I know similar issues will be part of my future. I just wonder if my theological education will contribute to the solutions I discover. I know I’m better able to lead worship, Bible study, and devotions from my education, but how am I to tell my counselors they risk their job without making them cry or lash out in anger? How do I gently tell a child it’s never okay to say “I hope God kills us all” without letting him think he’s off the hook for his behavior?
My question is this: How do I prepare for the practical part of ministry and why isn’t this a bigger part of divinity school? There is grace in wrestling with the answers but I feel like I’m not even getting an idea of what answers to avoid. As the summer comes to a close, I still don’t have an answer. I don’t want to disregard the importance of what I’ve learned in school thus far, but I feel like there is a huge gap I still have to navigate in dealing with issues of pain, frustration, anger, sorrow, and confusion.
As program director and chaplain, not only am I an intern, but I am also a boss. I have a direct supervisor who has been at the camp for twenty years and is an ordained elder. I share responsibilities with two other senior staff and manage twelve counselors. These counselors are between the age of seventeen and twenty-three (which proves to also be a huge difference in maturity levels as well). I am responsible for reviewing their weekly schedules, disciplining their unruly campers, evaluating their performance as staff, and managing any other crises that may arise.
One of my counselors has abusive parents. Two are dealing with their parents’ complicated divorces. One has been in the care of his demanding aunt and uncle since he was taken from his parents ten years ago. Another nearly overdosed after a difficult break up about a year ago. Two counselors have started a relationship and are overly affectionate around campers. One decided to quit two days before our last day of camp. I have been with them twenty four hours a day, six days a week.
Along with the varied histories of my staff, each week brings different backgrounds and personalities among the children who attend camp. We’ve had a child whose father appeared uninvited, a child who had nightly bedwetting issues, several children in foster care, almost all of the children from broken families, the handful of kids who have unusual medical anomalies (such as the girl allergic to the outdoors or the boy with chronic nosebleeds), the adolescent who doled out death threats, and the countless children who suffer from homesickness. Each week brings new surprises.
I don’t mean to say that my entire summer has been a catastrophe. The truth is quite the opposite, and there have been moments where God’s presence has been powerfully overwhelming. I watched one of my counselors give a closing campfire message that brought me to tears: four years ago I was present at the closing campfire in which she committed her life to Christ. I connected with so many campers who just need someone to love. I’ve been humbled to take the broken body and blood of Christ from my broken counselors. I’ve been part of God’s obvious presence in ways I didn’t imagine God could appear. However, you cannot prepare for these moments – they don’t "get better" with practice.
I do struggle with being unprepared for the other issues. I struggle with how to give constructive criticism with a counselor who refuses to do her job. I struggle with how to pretend everything is okay when a camper’s grandmother died and she doesn’t know. I struggle with how to handle abusive parents telling me their daughter is terrible when she radiates Christ. I want to know when my education is going to kick in and give me the right words to say. I understand field ed is for developing these skills, but I feel like I’m not prepared for field ed.
I’m aware camp is an intensified immersion experience – working full time in the church did not bring this many issues over the course of two years – but I know similar issues will be part of my future. I just wonder if my theological education will contribute to the solutions I discover. I know I’m better able to lead worship, Bible study, and devotions from my education, but how am I to tell my counselors they risk their job without making them cry or lash out in anger? How do I gently tell a child it’s never okay to say “I hope God kills us all” without letting him think he’s off the hook for his behavior?
My question is this: How do I prepare for the practical part of ministry and why isn’t this a bigger part of divinity school? There is grace in wrestling with the answers but I feel like I’m not even getting an idea of what answers to avoid. As the summer comes to a close, I still don’t have an answer. I don’t want to disregard the importance of what I’ve learned in school thus far, but I feel like there is a huge gap I still have to navigate in dealing with issues of pain, frustration, anger, sorrow, and confusion.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Awake at 12:35 AM
I'm in the office alone. Next door to me, two teenage girls sit in a bathroom laughing together, waiting to see who will be the next to get sick. I am awake and waiting until one throws up for the third time tonight so I can call the camp director at some ungodly hour. Oh, the joys of being program director.
To be honest, this is the quietest this office has been in at least three weeks. No one else is awake except for the three of us, and I am by myself. I haven't been alone in a LONG time. I spent my last weekend with staff and it involved more work that the regular weekdays (including the mini-controversy of asking two staff members of the opposite sex not to sleep on top of each other in the presence of others). I am tired.
So it may now be 12:47 AM but I can feel a weight lifting from my shoulders. I am alone. No one can ask anything of me right now and there is such a freedom in these precious moments. They won't last long, but I have them.
And now, it's time for 6 hours of sleep to pass by too quickly.
To be honest, this is the quietest this office has been in at least three weeks. No one else is awake except for the three of us, and I am by myself. I haven't been alone in a LONG time. I spent my last weekend with staff and it involved more work that the regular weekdays (including the mini-controversy of asking two staff members of the opposite sex not to sleep on top of each other in the presence of others). I am tired.
So it may now be 12:47 AM but I can feel a weight lifting from my shoulders. I am alone. No one can ask anything of me right now and there is such a freedom in these precious moments. They won't last long, but I have them.
And now, it's time for 6 hours of sleep to pass by too quickly.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Two weeks left
I am preparing for camp checkout. All the kids are packing their sleeping bags, sweeping their cabins, and saying goodbye. I'm here resting in the quiet that seems to only last for a moment (as I type this, my office is about to be vacuumed.) This week has been better - last week was mission week and it required every ounce of my energy just to survive.
This week consisted of about thirty campers. I was able to learn everyone’s name by Tuesday and develop relationships with them as the week progressed. Several children have adopted me as their “mommy” which I find humorous but enjoyable. They’re so excited to hug me, even my tough kids like Zion and Tre who spend the rest of their energy throwing rocks at each other. It’s been a good week.
It’s hard to describe how yesterday felt in comparison to the rest of camp. I received some negative feedback from a group last week that left me angry. Their words were spiteful and left me calling everyone I knew so I could vent. That’s all I really wish to say on that note.
Against that background, I prepared for evening worship. One of the counselors was leading the talk. This girl has been in my life since my first summer as program director, and through God, she has played a part in my spiritual journey. Her message was so powerful and poignant; I had to fight back tears. It was about placing baggage at the foot of the cross – it was more a dramatic interpretation than a sermon – but with the heavy words laying on my heart from earlier that afternoon, it was just what I needed to hear. The service ended with each person naming the burden that kept them from freedom in Christ and tacking it to our cross. We later burned these papers in the camp fire and sang in the darkness. After our final song, the worship leaders stayed around and played a couple more songs. It was fantastic to sing “Lean On Me” acapella, while hugging the campers and dancing around the fire. It was a worship service unlike any I’d participated in before. It was amazing.
God is so good.
This morning I was reminded again of how God’s grace can wash away even the most painful and stressful days. Two hours of worship could allow me to forget how inadequate someone else’s words made me feel and remind me why I’m really here. I’m hoping that the last two weeks of camp will be a beautiful reminder of why I’m even in Divinity School or even why I decided to work at camp. I pray that this isn’t the only worship service in the world that makes me feel this alive.
This week consisted of about thirty campers. I was able to learn everyone’s name by Tuesday and develop relationships with them as the week progressed. Several children have adopted me as their “mommy” which I find humorous but enjoyable. They’re so excited to hug me, even my tough kids like Zion and Tre who spend the rest of their energy throwing rocks at each other. It’s been a good week.
It’s hard to describe how yesterday felt in comparison to the rest of camp. I received some negative feedback from a group last week that left me angry. Their words were spiteful and left me calling everyone I knew so I could vent. That’s all I really wish to say on that note.
Against that background, I prepared for evening worship. One of the counselors was leading the talk. This girl has been in my life since my first summer as program director, and through God, she has played a part in my spiritual journey. Her message was so powerful and poignant; I had to fight back tears. It was about placing baggage at the foot of the cross – it was more a dramatic interpretation than a sermon – but with the heavy words laying on my heart from earlier that afternoon, it was just what I needed to hear. The service ended with each person naming the burden that kept them from freedom in Christ and tacking it to our cross. We later burned these papers in the camp fire and sang in the darkness. After our final song, the worship leaders stayed around and played a couple more songs. It was fantastic to sing “Lean On Me” acapella, while hugging the campers and dancing around the fire. It was a worship service unlike any I’d participated in before. It was amazing.
God is so good.
This morning I was reminded again of how God’s grace can wash away even the most painful and stressful days. Two hours of worship could allow me to forget how inadequate someone else’s words made me feel and remind me why I’m really here. I’m hoping that the last two weeks of camp will be a beautiful reminder of why I’m even in Divinity School or even why I decided to work at camp. I pray that this isn’t the only worship service in the world that makes me feel this alive.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
My "Off" Week
I am sitting in my office wondering why I couldn't be at the beach this week with the other staff. Overall, I've performed 2 hours of work that I had to be at camp for... the rest - I could've done from the phone. I'm tired. I want to be with my friends. And while Eric, Ann, and I have all be able to enjoy some free time together (and a visit from Ethan), we could be doing that somewhere other than here. I want my Sabbath, dang it!
This week isn't busy. The camp is being run by a group outside of Mt. Shepherd. They have everything under control and except for a couple of words exchanged at meals and bedtime, we have very little interaction with them. I think the reason I struggle so much with this is that I'm moving at a fast pace ALL THE TIME. There's no "in between" time here. It's either 110% or sleep. So now that I have some time to take it slow and amuse myself, I'm not sure what to do.
(Actually I just convinced Eric to watch Arrested Development with me though he's working on tying some accessory cord at the moment)
I hope I can get to a point where I accept free time... but for now, I'm about to drive myself crazy.
- Carley
This week isn't busy. The camp is being run by a group outside of Mt. Shepherd. They have everything under control and except for a couple of words exchanged at meals and bedtime, we have very little interaction with them. I think the reason I struggle so much with this is that I'm moving at a fast pace ALL THE TIME. There's no "in between" time here. It's either 110% or sleep. So now that I have some time to take it slow and amuse myself, I'm not sure what to do.
(Actually I just convinced Eric to watch Arrested Development with me though he's working on tying some accessory cord at the moment)
I hope I can get to a point where I accept free time... but for now, I'm about to drive myself crazy.
- Carley
Thursday, June 18, 2009
My first week with campers
I am coming to the end of my first week with campers. Half of me is on auto-pilot: I'm doing things here I haven't done in years but they feel so natural. I can place counselors with different camps, arrange room requests and set up meal numbers without even thinking. I am quicker at doing these things now too. All of my "big" stuff was done on Tuesday. I can run my job with my eyes closed.
There is another part of me that struggles. This is the part that has to hold the deep God conversations while balancing a homesick camper on one knee. This is the person who ached as she watched a camper beat her dad away from her in tears. This is the part of me who feels so alive and so dead at the same time.
There's so much pain here. Too much pain. Every counselor here has a story about their broken past. Most of them are still aching in some way. These counselors are asked to then counsel children who are enduring similar (or even bigger) pains that are ripping away at their soul. Why did we abandon God so early on in humanity? It's caused so much tragedy.
I keep praying that these kids lives will be changed... that they will rely on God. I plan on speaking on our need for God - and that there's nothing we can fix on our own - but how will they be able to think past themselves when they're drowning in their own mess? They're just thinking about how to stay afloat... I hope they see God's hands in the waters.
It's too late now for me to attempt to make sense. God's been good to me these past three weeks. I think I'm starting to feel like I'm supposed to be here. I still don't know why but I have more peace about it all. I feel like I can see the person I was shining through again. The one who knew how to pray and believed in its power. That girl isn't gone for good... I feel like I'm becoming a better person here and I'm so grateful for the people who won't let me accept good enough as sufficient.
There is another part of me that struggles. This is the part that has to hold the deep God conversations while balancing a homesick camper on one knee. This is the person who ached as she watched a camper beat her dad away from her in tears. This is the part of me who feels so alive and so dead at the same time.
There's so much pain here. Too much pain. Every counselor here has a story about their broken past. Most of them are still aching in some way. These counselors are asked to then counsel children who are enduring similar (or even bigger) pains that are ripping away at their soul. Why did we abandon God so early on in humanity? It's caused so much tragedy.
I keep praying that these kids lives will be changed... that they will rely on God. I plan on speaking on our need for God - and that there's nothing we can fix on our own - but how will they be able to think past themselves when they're drowning in their own mess? They're just thinking about how to stay afloat... I hope they see God's hands in the waters.
It's too late now for me to attempt to make sense. God's been good to me these past three weeks. I think I'm starting to feel like I'm supposed to be here. I still don't know why but I have more peace about it all. I feel like I can see the person I was shining through again. The one who knew how to pray and believed in its power. That girl isn't gone for good... I feel like I'm becoming a better person here and I'm so grateful for the people who won't let me accept good enough as sufficient.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Orientation
Tonight is the second night of orientation. So far things have gone well. The staff is amazing- I really feel like we're going to mesh. There is a little separation between the younger and older counselors, but I think that the staff we've selected all fit the Mt. Shepherd personality. I don't know how to describe it, but it's there... like the right kind of energy.
I prayed last night that I wouldn't be distracted from them and my job as their chaplain and director. I hope it stays that way. So far I've led a talk on being a living sacrifice and incarnational ministry as well as to be thankful in community. I really hope that this summer is God's way of breaking through to them. God's broken through to me here. God gets my attention here. I can't hide here.
I hope they find the same bold God breaking through everything that takes away from their personal relationship. I think one of my messages next week will be on breaking through distractions because camp is good at providing a place to do so.
Eric and I get to meet with all the staff tomorrow night as their chaplains. We will ask them about their life, their struggles, and who God is to them. We will pray with them and for them. We may not have anything to offer accept an ear... but I know that is something we can offer.
"Just as love to God begins with listening to His Word, so the beginning of love for the brethren is learning to listen to them. It is God's love for us that He not only gives us His Word but also lends us His ear. So it is His work that we do for our brother when we learn to listen to him." ...
"He who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either."
Bonhoeffer's Life Together
I prayed last night that I wouldn't be distracted from them and my job as their chaplain and director. I hope it stays that way. So far I've led a talk on being a living sacrifice and incarnational ministry as well as to be thankful in community. I really hope that this summer is God's way of breaking through to them. God's broken through to me here. God gets my attention here. I can't hide here.
I hope they find the same bold God breaking through everything that takes away from their personal relationship. I think one of my messages next week will be on breaking through distractions because camp is good at providing a place to do so.
Eric and I get to meet with all the staff tomorrow night as their chaplains. We will ask them about their life, their struggles, and who God is to them. We will pray with them and for them. We may not have anything to offer accept an ear... but I know that is something we can offer.
"Just as love to God begins with listening to His Word, so the beginning of love for the brethren is learning to listen to them. It is God's love for us that He not only gives us His Word but also lends us His ear. So it is His work that we do for our brother when we learn to listen to him." ...
"He who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either."
Bonhoeffer's Life Together
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