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.