Well I totally forgot to title the other one... so...

(Side note: forgot to title the post below. Fail. )

Ever since I moved to New Mexico, I've been thinking about Camp Bethany back home. I usually think of camp quite frequently, but it's been on my mind a lot more as of late. I consider myself, and have considered myself for the last 5 years, a counselor of sorts. No, I don't have a psychology degree and no, I don't charge $100/hour. But I've been thinking about Camp, and about all the work that we do there, and really, there isn't a better term for it. Some people may scoff at the term "camp counselor" and boil it down to an over-paid babysitter who leads activities and keeps kids in line, but those people clearly have never seen the work that we do and the time invested in our, for lack of better term, "job."

At camp, I'm not just a facilitator, monitoring kids and making sure they don't act like wild animals. I'm not just a game leader, selecting different activities for the kids to play and encouraging participation. Yes, we do all those things, but there's so much more to it. As camp counselors, we bare our souls and share personal stories in the hopes that explaining our mistakes will save at least one other person from the same pain and suffering. We invest our time and our lives in these kids, giving them an open ear, someone who won't judge them or attempt to put them on meds (not that we could, even if we wanted to do so). We SHOW them love and compassion and friendship, somethings they may not see but for one week a year. We give them advice, and not just generic, cliched empty words, but advice centered around Christ and around God.

For one week a year, I feel I am my truest self. And for several of the kids, the same is true. There is no pressure from us to acheive great things, only encouragement and support. We stop the name-calling and abuse where others would just turn a blind eye. And for many kids, we give them the opportunity to finally share a burden that has weighted down their hearts for weeks, months, or even years. I would never say that I "saved" a person; only God can do that. But I would say that God has used me to lead others to salvation, to safety, and even to peace. And in turn, I also have been led to peace.

I suppose I am writing all this down and thinking about it because, to be honest, there are certain aspects of the classroom that get to me. So much underhanded abuse takes place, so many snide remarks that can't be taken back or fixed. I see kids with cut marks on their arms or who shy away from people, and I want to stop teaching, pull them aside and just chat with them. I love teaching, but I think I finally understand is I love teaching not because of the subject (though English is great) or because of the opportunity to run my own classroom, but because it is a way to change lives.

This summer, when I contemplated the possibility of not having a job, I thought a lot about what else I would do with my free time. The one idea that constantly stuck was that of getting my Master's, but I was torn between getting my Master's in English (and then becoming a professor or writer) or in Counseling, and working in schools or churches... anywhere that kids were. I feel called towards the latter, and though I wish I had gotten said call a little earlier, I remember that God has this funny way of making everything work towards His glory, and clearly all of this will work itself out. After this year, who knows where I'll be? Perhaps I'll stay and work on my Master's while teaching. Perhaps I'll return home and focus on my studies yet again...all I know is that the best times of my life, the most wonderful memories and greatest feelings, are all connected with Camp and what has happened there. My heart always has, and always will, find it's home in that place and with those people. Now all I've got to do is figure out what's next.