Timberwolf Lake

When camp is over: thoughts on going home

ckirgiss3 Comments

I suppose that on this day, and last week, and next week, and all throughout this summer, tens of thousands of people will at some point go home from having worked and served at camp.

Substitute “mission trip” or “service project” for “camp” and add tens of thousands more to the tally.

Re-entry into real life for campers can be tricky to navigate – metaphorically speaking, anyway. Thanks to Siri and smart phones, it’s been ages since I’ve heard of anyone actually getting lost going to or leaving from camp, which is a good thing, but also has eliminated some of the camp adventure factor. I’m nostalgic about the lack of atlases on long road trips.

But re-entry for camp workers and servers is often even trickier to navigate, for at least several reasons: we were at camp for a long time; we lived in a large community of fellow workers/servers; we are going home to a family that doesn’t understand or buy into similar beliefs and motivations; we face challenges and difficulties at home that will make ‘living out my faith’ less normative and less, well, let’s say ‘glamorous’ for lack of a better term.

Working at camp and serving campers is a thousand times more exciting, motivating, and satisfying than being at home and serving family, friends, and neighbors.

For one thing, there is always music playing in the background. Loudly. (Unless it’s time for reflection, in which case it’s perfectly subdued.)

For another, there is a large cadre of fellow workers/servers to carry you forward, pump you up, and cheer you on. (And sometimes one who gets under your skin and you secretly wish would decide to give up, throw in the towel, call it quits, and get on out of there.)

Throw in some daily devos, adventurous movie-set-ish surroundings, and some regular one-on-one mentoring from a cool and winsome young adult (or a formerly cool, winsome-ish older adult), and it’s easy to see why the thought of ‘going home’ doesn’t always lead to a song and dance.

But home is real. Home is where life happens. Home is where Jesus is, lives, and waits to walk through life with us. Home is sacred. Home is real. Home is blessed (even when it’s not). Home is where the biggest miracles of all happen.

Home is where we are challenged and learn to do the most difficult things of all.

Yes, getting up at 6:00 a.m. every morning to cook for 5oo people is challenging and difficult. But learning to be gracious and kind, every single morning regardless of how early or late it is, to the person in your family that regularly drives you to the edge of rationality — that is a miracle of home.

Yes, learning to work as a unified group with 8 other distinct people (read: love some, could take or leave some, can’t stand some) every day for a month or a summer is challenging and difficult and requires you to ask for the Lord’s grace and patience each and every morning (for a month or a summer, that is). But learning to work and live as a unified group with however many other people are in your household or dorm for the rest of your time living there —that is a miracle of home.

Yes, pushing through the days when you are tired and frustrated and just want to give up or slow down or push off is challenging and difficult and requires you to dig deep down into your soul’s reserves of strength and commitment. But learning to push through the days when you are tired and frustrated with the everyday, mundane, boring, non-camp-ish, adventure-less (we think), pointless (we assume), blahblahblah (we snivel) details of life for the rest of your life — that is a miracle of home.

It’s not hard to be changed at camp. It happens all the time.

Being changed for life – that’s the point. That’s what God wants for us. That’s what Jesus does for us…if we are willing to surrender and serve and listen and obey when we get back home, just like we did when we were at camp.

Big things happen at camp. People are transformed. People meet Jesus. People fall in love with God. People work harder than they ever worked before.

But really big things happen at home. We learn to obey. We learn to listen. We learn to exercise patience. We learn to extend grace. We learn to love, deeply, truly, impossibly, faithfully, and without end.

Do not miss the miracles of home once you’ve left camp. If you do, you will also lose all the miracles of camp, and that would be a tragedy indeed.

 

Young Lives Day Six: mamas, babies, friends, farewell, the finish line

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They pulled out of camp this morning, all of those precious mamas and babies with their faithful and loving mentors.

Our hearts are full – full of joy for all those we met and loved; full of sadness for having to say goodbye; full of thanks for having been part of this amazing week; full of sorrow for the many young mamas and babies in this world who are not surrounded by a circle of loving and caring people; full of laughter for the fun and games and play we shared this week; full of tears for the broken world in which we live; full of hope because of Jesus.

We packed it all up today – all those highchairs and booster seats and pack-n-plays and swings and tricycles and changing pads and napping mats and carpets and blocks and sippy cups and dolls and trucks and playhouses and kiddie pools and blankets and toys and strollers.

It feels like just yesterday – and last year – that we were first staging the strollers for their arrival.

YLives strollers

And already today we lined them up, washed them down, and stored them away for another year.

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Those strollers rolled many miles this week, ’round and ’round the lake, up and down the walkways, back and forth across the halls.

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Photo: Crystal Kirgiss, 2016
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Photo: Crystal Kirgiss, 2016

We cleared off the clotheslines, which looked different than most other weeks at a Young Life camp what with all the tiny little bodies creeping, crawling, and toddling hereabouts.

young lives clotheline
Photo: Crystal Kirgiss, 2016

We took our final walks through the silent prayer labyrinth of trees, soaking up the beauty of God’s creation, considering what He would speak to our hearts this week as we served – which was, in truth, a secondary task (such a difficult reality for those who “feel called to serve”) to hearing from and listening intently to His voice.

prayer trees
Photo: Crystal Kirgiss, 2016

We waved goodbye (and sometimes…often…hugged and held and cradled and cooed and said, “Gracious, you are a beautiful creation of God, you and your mama both, indeed you are!) to the many faces and fingers and hearts we met and loved this week.

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Photo: Crystal Kirgiss, 2016
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Photo: Crystal Kirgiss, 2016

And we felt a little piece of our own hearts pull out of camp this morning with all those mamas and babies and mentors – because how could it be otherwise? When the Lord sends love and grace into a person’s life, how can we do anything but respond with surprise, wonder, and a breathtaking gasp of joy?

The Lord was here this week. And He did mighty things.

But the Lord is also on busses, and in vans, and in cars, and back home, and absolutely everywhere.

We would do well to remember this as we ourselves pull out of camp today and tonight and tomorrow. We were privileged enough to watch – and even be a very tiny small part of God’s big amazing work here this week. Like the disciples thousands of years ago, we were invited to distribute the abundance of his love and mercy to a hungry crowd. He did the work – we simply passed it around, as faithfully and lovingly as we know how.

And now, when the week is done, we – like the disciples thousands of year ago – have been instructed to get back in the boat and go back…back home, back to the other side, back to where we came from, back to work, back to school, back to responsibility, back to daily life.

This was a powerful and amazing week indeed… because God was here. Let’s not forget that God is also here and there and everywhere, and so our service and love and kindness and caring must continue long past the moment we pull away from this place.

Young Lives is a bright and brilliant reflection of God’s love, as so many other things are.

Thank you, childcare workers, for serving so well this week.

Thank you, mentors, for loving your girls and their babies for such long and faithful weeks, months, and years.

Thank you, work staff for pulling out all the stops during this final week of your assignment.

Thank you, camp staff, for once again laying the table for the rest of us to both feast at and serve from. It took everyone to make this week happen.

But it took only God to make it real and sacred.

Bless the Lord, oh my soul – and may He bless the mamas and babies, wherever they are right now.

Young Lives Day Four and Five: from nametags to strollers to friendship to love

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Young Lives Camp, Day Five.

It feels like a year has passed since the childcare workers first arrived and made nametags –

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like months have passed since we first unloaded the storage closet –

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Photo: Mark Kirgiss, 2016

 

and like weeks have passed since we first met mamas and babies.

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Photo: Crystal Kirgiss, 2016

Indeed, a week of Young Lives camp cannot be measured in real time. There are too many joys, too many tears, too much laughter, too much crying, too much playing, too much resting, and too much life to measure in days, hours, or minutes.

A week of Young Lives contains a lifetime of love, hope, friendship, and in the end, family.

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Photo: Mark Kirgiss, 2016

The childcare workers (gracious, yes) do indeed fall in love with each and every baby, toddler, and child they care for – not as deeply in love as the mamas (gracious, no), but in love nonetheless.

There are countless circles of love here at Young Lives camp: mamas for the babies, babies for the mamas, mentors for the mamas, work staff for the campers, childcare workers for the babies, childcare workers for each other. Each circle is a community of belonging and a family of hope.

All of these circles matter deeply. It is not just the love for babies that carries the day here at Young Lives – though that love is glorious indeed.

But it is primarily – solely and only, in fact – God’s love for fallen, broken, sorry, and undeserving humanity (each and every one of us) that carries the day. His love is why we care. His love is why we have hope. His love is why we wake each day. His love is why we are here. His love is why we live.

His love is why we love.

Young Lives Day Three: sippy cups, cereal, carnival lights, and love

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In some ways, Young Lives camp looks entirely different from Young Life camp. The tables are set with these:

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Many of the breakfast Cheerios end up here:

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There  are people pushing strollers all over camp:

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There are also tricycles, scooters, pedal-cars, and pedal-tractors at every turn. Add to that pack-n-plays, crates of diapers, changing tables, swings, tiny tables and chairs, napping cots, bottles, sippy cups, diaper bags, onesies, baby wipes, building blocks, exer-saucers, and a thousand other things, and it would be easy to assume that Young Lives camp is nothing like Young Life camp.

But that would be a wrong assumption.

Because at Young Lives camp, things like this still happen:

And that leads to this:

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A genuine, bonafide, Young Life carnival, which is the perfect way for a young mama to end a wondrous day because – just like every other teen who visits this sacred slice of creation – she has come to experience the best week of her life. And we are going to do our best to give it to her, because that’s what love does.

 

 

Young Lives Day One: what most people don’t see

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They arrived today – cars and vans and busses of young mamas, babies, and mentors (who are women of courage, strength, and faith that none can describe fully or faithfully).

We are off and running, and the race is going to be exhilarating as these young women are introduced to love, grace, joy, and eternal reconciliation.

This week happens, in large part, because of things that are seen by only a few people, things that are astoundingly and breathtakingly beautiful –

things like moving over 100 strollers from under the rainy skies to under the dry porch to wait for their first passenger to arrive … sometimes the weather is drizzly, you see

things like stacking highchairs and patiently vacuuming a dining hall where 100 tinies and littles just ate dinner with their mamas … sometimes the food flies, you see

things like wiping down sticky booster chairs in which 50 toddlers just ate dinner with their mamas … sometimes the food spills, you see

things like holding a little for the very first time while her mama heads off for an evening of laughter, fun, and whimsical play … sometimes the littles need some encouragement, you see

things like letting a tiny snuggle in close so she can sleep peacefully, safely, and contentedly until her mama returns with a wide embrace … sometimes the tinies just need a safe and warm place, you see

things like comforting a little while he rests in a new place for the very first time … sometimes everyone needs a reassuring presence, you see.

These are the unseen things that make this week possible – these and a thousand others like them.

Our God is a God of grace, and He has surely filled this place and these people with grace unbounding. He has breathed Himself into this air and into these lives.

The miracles of joy have just begun.

 

 

Young Lives Camp, Day Zero: getting ready for mamas and babies

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[*note: Young Lives is the a Young Life ministry for teen mothers]

This week in Michigan, in a little tiny corner of the world known as Timberwolf Lake, a group of people are getting ready for the arrival of 100-plus teen mamas … and their babies.

Yesterday, one little tiny spot in this little tiny corner of the world looked like this:

YLives no strollers

It’s a lovely place indeed, a place where many people hear the beautiful truth about Jesus Christ and God’s love.

But this week, it’s especially beautiful, because this week, it looks like this:

YLives strollers

In one short day, this place – intended primarily for teenagers without babies – has been transformed into a place absolutely and perfectly and completely intended for teenagers with babies.

I wish I could describe the transformation. Pack-n-Plays, high-chairs, booster seats, napping cots, tricycles, bouncy chairs, swings, kiddie pools, blocks, toys, toys, toys, blankets, sheets, diapers, snacks, juice, rocking chairs, and so much more. It all must be unloaded, unpacked, sorted, washed, organized, and delivered to twelve – yes, twelve different nursery spaces.

But it’s always the strollers that get me – those colorful, joyful, inviting, ready-to-roll strollers. They are the first thing the mamas will see when they climb out of a car, van, or bus. The strollers, saying, “We are ready for you. We’ve been waiting for you. We welcome you. We love you.”

Those are powerful words for a young mama to hear.

But they are not the most important worlds they will hear this week. These are: you are loved by a God who is not just a father but also a mother, like –

an eagle who hovers over its young
a hen who gathers her chicks under her wings
a comforting mother
one who gives birth to the dew and the frost.

 

Most breathtaking of all, when in the very beginning God breathed the breath of life into humans and made them living creatures, he was like a mother, for that breath (neshamah) is derived from an older word nasham, a verb that means “to pant, especially of a woman in travail or labour.” It shows up in Isaiah 42:14 where the LORD, marching forth like a mighty hero, will say:

I have long been silent; yes, I have restrained myself. But now, like a woman in labor, I will cry and groan and pant.

The LORD – our father God – like a woman in labor.

Gracious. Mercy. Astounding.

This week, 100-plus young mamas are going to learn about that God – the God who loves them, the God who became human to demonstrate that love, the God who offers new life, the God who created all life, the God who breathes life into us, the God who hovers, gathers, comforts, and gives birth to all that is.

Bless the LORD, oh my soul, for being just exactly what and who each one of us needs.

 

 

 

 

Here we love babies and mamas (in which I consider Young Lives Camp Day 1)

ckirgiss2 Comments

Six hours. That is how long this sacred space in the netherlands of Michigan has become even more sacred because, well, mamas and babies, of course. Over 100 of each.

Not everyone understands why there is so much love here for young mothers and their children. Not everyone understands why a bunch of teenagers have given up a month of their summer to work for free doing things like taking several hours each day setting beautiful tables for these mothers and babies, tables that have real linens, proper place-settings, polished high-chairs, toddler cups with bendy straws, and a full pack of baby wipes…

Young Lives pre-dinner table (Photo: CKirgiss)
Young Lives pre-dinner table (Photo: CKirgiss)

…even though it will take only about 15 minutes of dinner activity for the table to look like this…

Young Lives post-dinner table (Photo: CKirgiss)
Young Lives post-dinner table (Photo: CKirgiss)

…and for the floor to look like this…

Young Lives post-dinner floor (Photo: CKirgiss)
Young Lives post-dinner floor (Photo: CKirgiss)

…which is a wondrous tapestry of broccoli, rice, chicken, salad, bread, juicy puddles, and a mama’s pair of sunglasses.

Indeed: even if the mealtime experience weren’t such an adventure in patience and grace, still not everyone understands why this week of loving teen moms and their babies is such a very, very big deal.

This is why: because, well, mamas and babies. Isn’t it obvious?

Mama and babe. Mother and child. A whole crowd of them. What could be more wondrous and sacred, especially for a child of God and follower of Christ?

For you see: the LORD loves children, so much that he carefully and purposefully knits them together while still in the womb. He warmly welcomes them, even when his friends and followers try to push them aside for being too young, too noisy, too distracting, and too much trouble. He considers them precious enough to be the incarnated identity of himself. God Almighty. Creator of all. A babe. A babe! Why do we love babies? Why indeed.

And the LORD loves mothers, so much that he himself is often described in those terms. He is like an eagle that rouses her chicks and hovers over her young (Dt. 32: 11). He comforts his children as a mother comforts her child (Is. 66:13). He gives birth to the dew and the frost from heaven; he is the mother of the ice (Job 38:28-29). And then there is this: he entered the world as a helpless babe, not formed directly from the dust of the ground, but rather ushered into life out from the womb of a mother, a living breathing flesh-and-blood human mother. And this: when shepherds and Kings met the Messiah of the world, they met him  not as a king surrounded by advisors and subjects but as a babe with his mother. And this – oh, do not forget this: when he hung on the cross, preparing to breath his last breath, he yelled out to his friend, “My mother…do not forget my mother! Take care of her as if she were your own! Because I love her!”

We love mothers and babies here at Young Lives camp because God loves mothers and babies, and we are commanded to love as he does. Really, that’s all there is to it. That’s all there is because that’s everything there is. God’s love is everything. And we want in on it, not just for ourselves but to share it with others so they can be in on it, too. That’s it. That’s the whole story.

Not everyone understands. I get it. But God does amazing things anyway – and this week is going to be full of those amazing things indeed because, well, mamas and babies, and more importantly a God who loves them beyond what any of us will ever understand.

Mother and child: Young Lives TWL 2014 (Photo: CKirgiss)
Mother and child: Young Lives TWL 2014 (Photo: CKirgiss)