"Take a moment to remember..."

It’s now been over a week that we’ve been down from camp. The end of summer party has come and gone. The counselors have returned to their homes. I am (almost) unpacked. I’m still trying to capture the enormity of the four weeks, to somehow process it. My journal entries provide a raw look at what transpired during those weeks, so that’s where I started.

As I read the musings of my heart while at camp, I was struck by the intensity of it. So much longing, so much doubt, so much desire, so much gratitude and regret and openness. It’s no accident these writings spring from the grace of daily Mass, frequent confession, adoration, and daily prayer. When I am close to Him, my true heart is known. I can know myself more accurately, see His work in me more easily, hear His voice more clearly. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Camp is hard—the writing is evidence of that—worry, anxiety, frustration. The storms, the fatigue, the soreness, the feelings of inadequacy. But more than that, there is comfort. Prayers of gratitude and safety and confidence in God’s love also fill the pages. I can almost hear the sigh of relief as the words move from questioning to resting in Him, over and over again. He is in control, and He came to give us life to the full.

The Suscipe of St. Ignatius made its way to the front of my mind numerous times at camp, and is one of my favorite prayers. It embodies the abandonment necessary to give completely of oneself without calculating the cost. This is the radical availability that we live at camp, which is one of the greatest lessons and challenges of the whole summer. 

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, my understanding,
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.
You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.
Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace,
that is enough for me.

The Burning Bush

The things that happen at camp are unlike anything that happen off of the mountain. Ever. How do I explain to people who have never been up here the epic lightning protocol poetry slam, or engaging teenage boys in conversations about virtue and love languages on a 13-mile hike, or a Hanz and Franz 230 wake up call, or Mass every day in front of the meadow (or in a car wash parking lot), or the deep conversations that happen in a pick up truck in the rain while on a sandwich delivery run. 

Those things don't happen anywhere else, and in a way that's what makes this place so special. God works in a way up here that is unlike anywhere else, and that makes it challenging to remember that He works just as much (though differently) off the mountain, every day of our lives. It's easier to see it up here because we don't have the distractions of cell phones and traffic jams and work and television. It's easier because we know that's why we're here and we want to be intentional, because everything here is oriented towards restoring the four harmonies. It's also a little bit harder because camp is exhausting and the definition of sacrifice, but ultimately, it's all more full. Life to the full. 

What's hard about it is bringing it down from the mountain. Because this is a very brief reality that needs to overflow into our lives when we leave. We need to have those deep conversations, take time for prayer, connect to nature, sacrifice our preferences for others, live in the dirt and grime and exhaustion of our state in life. I may still never be able to articulate these experiences, but I hope that they show themselves in everything I do from this day forward. That's a tall order. But our God is big.

Camp Doctor, Year 2

I've come down the mountain for a breather. Laundry, showers, and, you know, having to work. Gotta pay the bills.

The first two weeks at Camp Wojtyla were for middle schoolers. My favorite. #sarcasticfont. The nice part about the middle school camp is that most of their activities take place on the campgrounds, so my job is infinitely easier in terms of treating injuries and doling out meds. The bad part about the middle school camp is that most of their activities take place on the campgrounds, so it's boring. No summit hikes, no rock climbing, no rafting. But it's good to have it both ways. Made for better prayer time and more naps. #pronapper.

Once again, the best part of camp seems to be the counselors--thirty-some college students and seminarians from around the country who give up their summer for these youngsters. They. Are. Awesome.

Sherpa selfie--no stick needed

Also, this year, we have six full-time staff. Six! So things like new water pumps and an organized office and frequent mail runs all happen. Score! The joy of the summer and full-time staff is contagious, from singing while doing dishes to labeling the food all crazy-like.

I've decided that in terms of simplicity and not wrecking my back, hammock camping is for sure the way to go. Look at my tiny little home. Isn't it cute? Bug net, tarp, and a holster for my walkie-talkie. All without killing the wildflowers.

It's true that nature makes a great cathedral--prayer and reflection come super easy at 8,000 feet. And God has been so good moving in my heart the last 2 weeks, drawing me closer to Him and reassuring me in my ways. Looking forward to 2 more weeks, complete with all the fun stuff and no sleep.