To Camp Spofford

Today marks four months since I’ve been working at Camp Spofford. So, I thought I’d share a little story…

Scrubbing the remains of oatmeal, as it clings and clumps and sticks and ‘plops’ into the sink, is no fun. Yet there I was – a college grad with a Masters degree, ready and able to start a career – washing pots and pans. Admittedly, it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind at my commencement ceremony five months earlier.

“You’re just a cog in a wheel, a little part of a big machine,” were the thoughts running through my head. I felt degraded, without purpose, and as though just maybe God had pointed me in the wrong direction. The only thing that kept me scrubbing was John 13. I figured if Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, then I could endure washing those dishes. Even still, the idea was of little comfort in the moment.

I went home for Mother’s Day that weekend. My vocational plight was the first of several issues weighing heavy on my shoulders. And after having one of those ‘ball-your-eyes-out’ type of conversations with my mom, I sat in the shower, crying uncontrollably, asking God, “What do you want with me?” There was no extraordinary response, no still small voice, no supernatural vision. My heart was torn; my mind cluttered; my vision foggy. Yet there was a seed of peace amidst the stormy ambiguity of my emotions. I resolved to follow God’s lead, wherever that led.

In the days that followed, my heart settled. I came away from that weekend with a new perspective, a new joy, and a new contentment with where God had put me for this season of life. I returned to work feeling reassured of his call, and little did I know he would bless me with the most fulfilling and enjoyable summer I’ve ever had.

What God did over the next several weeks was nothing short of incredible. To witness him at work and to be a tool in his hand was thrilling and tiring (but mostly thrilling). From speaking into the lives of staffers and campers, to watching dead hearts come alive through the gospel, to leading chapel worship, and working side by side with amazing people; sure, there were moments of frustration, confusion, and mental overload, but with every step and every day God gave more grace.

There are too many good memories to include here, and too many people to thank. But here are just a few shout-outs to some who made the last four months the best of my life.

To Ben, for being an awesome roommate, even when you fall asleep while I’m talking.

To Addie, for being the best co-leader I could ask for and dealing so well with people I found hard to handle.

To Keith, for being the biggest, loudest, most jovial man-child I know.

To Stephen, for conversations in Knutes (with lots of free chips and salsa) and showers serenaded by Frank and Louie.

To Karl and Ed, for being amazing leaders to the lower boys and handling cabin drama, so that I (for the most part) didn’t have to.

To Jim and Robin, for late-night chats and snacks on your finely decorated porch.

To Patrick, for being a great friend and workout buddy, even at 6:15 a.m. when I wanted to go back to bed.

To Dave and Dave, for being a great duo and steering the ship through the summer.

I thank God for Camp Spofford and what he did in and through the people who made it (once again) such a special place this summer. To everyone who played a role, may God richly bless you this coming year; and never forget the tip of the day is: don’t smash your face.

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