Don't Tell Me - Show Me (pt. 3)

"Don't tell people your dreams - show them."

[click here to view pt. 1

[click here to view pt. 2]

Nothing could have prepared me for it; it came quickly, suddenly, out of no where. You would think that after six years of hearing God whisper "Wait..." I would be listening intently for him to say "Now." I wasn't, though. As I walked with my ten campers from the zip-line to the cabin, Africa was far from my thoughts. I had one girl on my back, two small dark hands folded into mine, and a whole trail of smiling faces following along behind me. Then, there it was:

"Now."

"What?" I wasn't sure I heard right.

"Go."

"Okay." My heart began to beat a little harder (whether from the sixty pounds on my back or the joy of a calling, I'm not quite sure!) I spent the next week in prayer over the call. I threw out a fleece and asked God to confirm that he was leading me, finally, to Africa. It didn't even take the whole week; two days had gone by and in my heart I  knew my next summer was planned ahead of me. Every thing in me sang as I walked through the door to my home after camp ended; everything in me sunk as my parents gave me skeptical looks and shook their heads.

That I handled it with grace and obedience isn't something I can claim for myself - honestly, I've rarely been graceful about anything in my life, and 'rebel' is a term commonly used when describing me. The next month was an uphill climb with 100 pound weights, but in the end was rewarded with permission to go to training (not Africa, mind you, but it was a step!)

Very few times in my life have been as much of a struggle as the next two months were. I refused to accept that God would call me into a plan, only to tell my parents that I wasn't to follow through with it. "Lord, either give my parents peace or change my heart! I won't go without their blessing, but I can't stay without Yours!" Over and over and over again I prayed; friends and church family prayed with me. So many prayers were lifted up over those two months, so much encouragement was given, so many confirmations were found in Scripture - but let me keep things simple and say that for two months, nothing changed. For two months I was left without an answer.

Two weeks ago, I was at a concert here on The Mountain; the band was incredible, but there was one song that nearly made me break down. Voices all across the room were singing along to the words "I will follow You, where ever you lead..." Again I prayed, "Lord, please just change my heart or give peace to my parents..." It was half-hearted; I had come to the decision that if there was no answer in the next week, I was just going to start looking for other options. With that, the concert was over and I went back to my dorm. On the front desk there was a beautiful bouquet of daisies, I commented to the RA how pretty they were only to find out that they were for me!

They were from my parents. Without even reading the card I called to thank them. Mom told me to read the note, and friend my world changed with these words:

"The fear of man is a snare; those who trust in the Lord will be kept safe." Prov. 25:29

You Have Our Blessing - Love, Mamma and Dad

I'm back on The Mountain now. I've just returned from training at the headquarters of Rafiki Foundation in FL, and am finally beginning to prep for the journey! After years of prayers, and months of feeling unsure, my plane tickets are being purchased to take me to Tanzania. You've seen the quote "Don't tell people your dreams, show them" at the top of each post for the last two weeks. Well, friends, I want to make good on that promise. I want to keep showing you the proof that when the dream you have aligns with the dreams God has - things happen.

May His Face Shine on Yours,

Bekah S.

Don't Tell Me - Show Me (pt. 2)

"Don't tell people your dreams, show them."

[click here for Part 1]

Six years have gone by since I sat around that fire pit, sharing with others that God was calling me to the mission field. Six years that have held ridiculous stories, incredible growth, changes in place and relationships - but one solid dream. I have dreamed of Africa - Sierra Leon, Rwanda, Tanzania, Ethiopia, Egypt, Malawi...Africa.

Rewind the tape to 2010 and join me in Venezuela. My team was traveling around the country sharing the Gospel through a short drama called Freedom. It was on a Sunday, our day of rest, that I found myself, four teammates, and one translator trying to get back home after church. Our whole team had split up and attended several different local churches that night and were to be back at the hotel by 9 pm; it seemed, though, that this wouldn't be happening for my group.

The six of us piled into a particularly rickety looking pick-up truck and began making our way down the mountain road that led home. We didn't make it two blocks before the truck began coughing, sputtering, and clunking. Our driver spoke no English, and after a few attempts at conversation our translator was convinced the man spoke no Spanish. We jerked as the truck came to a halt three blocks down the road, and our gibberish-tongued driver hopped out and began walking back up the hill toward the church; the rest of us sat for a moment staring at each other before stumbling out and trudging after him.

It was all laughs from us as we piled next into an old VW bus that, in the end, wouldn't stay on long enough to drive ten feet. But our final transportation sent the group into hysterics: a clunker of a car that I would have been skeptical of if I had bought it brand new. It was made to seat only three extra passengers, and came up to our translator's hip in height. Somehow, all seven of us crammed into the tiny car - four in the back, John (our translator) in the passenger seat, and me with my knees tucked up to my chin perched on top of the console. I was careful to keep my feet out of the way, but every time the driver had to shift gears he had to tap my foot and point.

During the drive I had a chance to share my dream, which was, at the time, just a year in the making. I looked to my teammates for advice, encouragement, and what wisdom they could give me; it was John, though, who's words have stayed with me. He told me to treat this dream of mine like a pregnancy (bear with me; I thought it was funny too). He pointed out to me that babies who are born prematurely rarely survive; the mother must give the baby time to grow inside of her before it can be expected to survive in this world, and even then it is iffy. Dreams are the same, he said, fragile and in need of nourishment. If you're going to have a dream, you're going to need the patience to see it through to the end, to give it its best chance of survival.

I had no idea how long it would take, how long I would have to let this dream grow and take root inside of me before it would become a reality in this world. But now? Now I can see it within my reach. There is only a little more waiting to be done and...

Well, I guess you'll need to come back to the next post to get the "and what". But, as you go about your day, I hope you remember the words of my friend John. Remember to treat your dream as the beautiful, fragile thing it is - in need of care, time, and dedication. Never give up, but never forget that sometimes you might have to wait.

May the Lord keep you!

-Bekah S.

Don't Tell Me - Show Me (pt.1)

"Don't tell people your dreams - show them."

At the risk of sparking memory to a famous speech, or setting you off on a musical rendition from Tangled , I am going to tell you something:

I have a dream.

There! It is done - now if you need to go quote M.L.K. or sing at the top of your lungs with Rapunzel and the Thugs, be my guest - just come back!

Okay, you're back? Good. As I was saying, I have a dream - I have had this dream for years. I'm taking you back with me to 2009 - the worst year of my life when some of the best things happened. That summer I was at a camp in Oklahoma with a wonderful bunch of people. There was much going on in my heart that week - but I want you to see one moment in particular:

Forty or so students sat around a camp fire, sharing with each other how they felt God was moving in their lives at the time. I was crying by the time the circle made its way around to me - I knew, for sure and for certain, that God was calling me to follow Him to the ends of the earth. I was a two year old Christian, and that next step was both terrifying and thrilling. Where was this going to take me? How on earth was a thirteen-year-old going to be a foreign missionary? I didn't even have a steady babysitting job, how would I pay for it? Would my parents support me?

All I knew was that I would be obedient, I would answer that call. My dreams were only beginning. From 2009 to present day God has called out of my home country five times, to three different continents, and I've seen some 2,000 people come to Faith in Jesus Christ. It has been incredible (and an incredible growth process - I'm just not the person I was). But let me take you back to that camp fire:

I was remembering some musicians who had performed earlier that day, a vocal worship group from Zimbabwe. The men were telling us of their home. They never once spoke about its poverty; never mentioned the high rate of its orphans and low rate of wholesome orphanages. Their request was not what we are accustomed to here in America: the request for the wealthy white citizen to come heal all the brokenness in the poor, destitute, African country. (I could talk for ages about that, but I will refrain). Their request was something different entirely.

They spoke only of one thing: their countrymen's thirst for God and the truth of His word. These men stood in front of 1,000+ students, broadly smiled, and asked that any one who loved the Lord and was willing would follow Him and spread his love in America, in Zimbabwe, in Russia - to the ends of the earth.

There it is. The beginning of a dream that has held out for nearly six years.

I'm going to save the rest of my story for the next post, but want to wrap up with this thought:

When the Lord plants a dream in you - when that dream begins to take root in your heart - when you can't ignore it any more - take notice of it. Nurture that dream. If God is calling you - if he's standing in the markets of India whispering your name, if He's shouting at you from across the street - answer him.

May the Lord Bless you!

- Bekah S.

Changed Forever

I've been putting this off - this last post. I was living in this hazy belief that if I didn't write about my final week at camp, then it wouldn't really be over. But nearly three weeks have gone by and the fact of the matter is that in little more than 3 hours I will be strapped into my overstuffed Cavalier, following the run of the Mississippi River back to my home-away-from-home. College is calling my name, and I would be cruel not to share my girls' story before I moved on to the next step in my life.

Mommy.

So much emotion can be tied into that one name. And when eleven girls have given you that name, emotions are prone to be strung high. That's exactly how it was for me during my last week as a counselor at Camp Summit. The Lord new what he was doing - six weeks ago my girls broke me, crumbling down a chunk of wall that has kept me closed off to many wonderful relationships for years. Three weeks ago, my girls healed me; they showed me what it is like to love a person for the sake of loving them.

I want to tell you the story of E. My precious 'junior counselor'. E's home life...it isn't a life. It isn't a home. This little one has already faced suicide at 11 years old because of the hatred, contempt, and abuse flung on her. She has a sweet spirit, a sensitive heart. She longs so much to be loved, and she found some of that love in me.

Four hours was my record for sleep each night during that final week. E wasn't the only girl having nightmares - nearly every one of my girls woke up at some point with a cry. I would sit on their beds, rubbing their backs, singing to Jesus - the Prince of Peace - until they fell asleep again.

One of my little ones, M, wasn't eating. Anything. And we could tell, as she was at least ten pounds underweight. She came to me later saying her tummy hurt - so we had a health lesson. She ate an entire cheeseburger and pile of grapes after that. It was a game all week, trying to get her to eat "Five more big bites". But Thursday night rolled around and she hugged me in her tears; I asked her simply, what she was going to eat when she got home? "My sandwich" she sniffed. My heart rejoiced!

I found out, bit by bit, the stories of all of my girls that week. Each of them heart breaking. Each of them with their own obstacles. And I fought for them. I prayed with them. I comforted them. I was their mother for a week - a mother that many of them don't have. And in among the praying and pleading with God to make himself real to them, four of my girls (E included) came to know Christ as their Father.

They have changed me forever. These girls, the girls before them, and the boys from the summer, have opened my eyes. They have opened my heart. God showed me an entirely new side of life through these children.

So, as I climb in my car and prepare to start my next year at school I have the memories of 360 children and teens following me - memories and impacts. I went to camp this summer with the intent to make a difference and change lives...but I know for a fact that the life hit with the impact, was my own.

Thank you for following this adventure with me.
Love to all.

- Bekah S.

Hug Hungry

Last week was a whirlwind!

Our numbers at camp were the highest they've been all summer: 57 students...

Can you imagine? 57 young boys running around camp; smiling, laughing, fighting, crying, cuddling, goofing off...I don't know if you can. The other female counselors and I felt like moms, real ones. Our hours of sleep were cut, even though we were just support staff. We gave 57 hugs each morning, 57 hugs each night, and more in between. We helped each boy in his turn, each team as they came to us. There was nothing we couldn't do for them.

I was struck this week by the incredible thirst these boys had for love. A few weeks ago, during another boys week, I was shocked to see that they shrunk from all forms of human contact - especially hugs. But last week was different: these boys couldn't get enough.

There is little I can say about last week, no specific story that pops out in my mind. But I want each of you to see that there is a need here in our community. There are young boys going without a father's guidance, going without a mother's love and affection.

Will you come beside my team and I and give it to them? We all leave for our respective colleges soon - but these kids will still be here needing love. Will you step in and allow God to change lives through you?

I can promise you this - the life he changes most will be your own.

Keeping you in prayers

- Bekah S.

Crossing Emotional Lines

It's been a long time since I've actually been emotional enough to cry for a whole weekend. But I'm telling you this last week messed with my heart. Now, don't get me wrong, I've loved and cared for all the girls I've had each week - but there was something about Rock Island Elementary that just broke me down.

I think the best way to share with you what I mean is by telling you J's story.

Back up to the summer of 2013: it was J's first year at camp. She was shy - really shy - and totally introverted. If she was addressed in public or in private she would stare blankly ahead and pretend as though she didn't hear the question.

And that's exactly how it was on Monday. J was quiet, and didn't really get involved with the girls, she played her role but no more.

Tuesday I caught her laughing at some jokes I was telling the girls - it put a small smile on my face to see her engaging.

Wednesday she was answering my questions of "How are you?" and "What's been the best part of camp?"

Thursday she ran to the front of the pack and held my hand. She looked up at me and said, "Is today we going fishing?" I smiled as I told her "Yes ma'am" and her face lit up.

That night was the big sleep over when we gather all the girls in to the Big Room of the lodge, flick on some movies, and pull out the blankets and pillows. She didn't have any body next to her, and waved me over. We shared my body pillow as she hadn't brought a pillow of her own. And just before the movie turned on, she leaned over to me and whispered "I don't want to go home tomorrow - I want to stay here."

Friday morning came, and I had already put J on the bus, but as I passed by a second time she was off it - trying to sneak away.

"J, honey, you have to get back on the bus. It's time to go home."

She reached out for me and wrapped me up in her little arms saying, "I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you. I miss you already."

I hugged her back, and walked her onto the bus. But before we made it two feet, she began crying. Her tears pushed me over the emotional line I had unknowingly drawn early this summer, and I began crying. The girls on the bus met me with more tears and "I'll miss you's" and my heart simply broke.

A week wasn't long enough for me to give them all the love I wanted to, but a week was all I had. And a week was all it took for J's heart to feel safe and secure and open enough to reach out and hug me first.

Keep my girls in your prayers; they will always be heavy on my heart.

Rekindle

Every week I sit down to write to all of you about how camp is going...and every week I find it more and more difficult to contain all the good things into just one story. So many wonderful things happened last week during our first experience with elementary (3rd-6th grade) boys - but I believe I know what I need to share.

I think it was Wednesday. I was managing lunch for the big eating room; the yellow team and the red team were with me. Now, about the yellow team - they were all Asians. Some from Thailand, a few from China and Burma. Basically, they are from a culture I am not accustomed to but I certainly have a growing interest in! Several of the red team were African, and a few American. It was quite a mix!

The yellow team was clamoring for a song "FIFA song!" they would say - but it wasn't from any recent years. Finally, after a few failed attempts and a lot of laughter, we managed to find the song on YouTube. Here are the lyrics of the chorus for you:

                 When I get older
                 I will be stronger
                They'll call me Freedom
                Just like a wavin' flag...

If you haven't heard the song, look it up right now, hit play, then switch the screen back to this and keep reading,

Within moments, all of us had discarded our half eaten lunches on the tables. We were all around the room, dancing and swaying and twirling (yes, little boys twirl very well) to the beat of one of the best songs I've ever heard in my life. I remember that I looked around the room and couldn't stop smiling. These are the moments that remind me where my heart is; the ones that rekindle the fire Christ sparked in my heart when I was a child.

I adore these children. Working at this camp is an experience I think everyone should consider, one that I am honored to be a part of. But my first love is, and always will be, other countries. This week was just another confirmation that I was made to be fluid, made to step outside of the box.

Saying good-bye to the boys this week was one of the hardest good-byes I have had all summer. They show so much love without any one telling them to. And when they dance, they inspire everyone to join in.

Thank you for keeping us in prayers!

Bekah S.

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

Last week was a roller coaster.

Re-reading that phrase, I have no choice but to laugh. It is the exact phrase my family has used to describe me for years. Since the morning of my third birthday I have been considered the emotionally unstable one of my household - count on Bekah to take you to the highest heights and lowest lows in ten seconds flat. This week gave me a taste of what my parents experienced in my own childhood.

In keeping with the metaphor, at the end of a roller coaster the rider usually feels rushed, tired, and happy. The same can be said of me this weekend. Junior High Girls are a handful; they are emotional and self conscious - and especially in need of extravagant love.

The beginning of the week was...interesting. I had a crazy mix of girls, and an awesome new CIT (counselor in training) to get accustomed to. A new sleep schedule and set of temperaments to send my brain through. And if you remember anything about middle school, you should remember that the world is a dismal depressing and unsatisfying place where (READ WITH OVER EXAGGERATED 'WOE IS ME' ATTITUDE) no one is for you, every one is against you, and if you have to do something other than sit and stare then the world is coming to an end!

My CIT and I sat down one evening as the girls were out hiding for a game of find the campers; we just sat and sighed. Peace and quiet - for the first time! We weren't sure how to get the girls excited for anything; how to teach them respect and how to be positive...it was only the second day and we were fried. The week would continue that same suite: Wake the girls up and brace yourselves for showers of complaints and arguments with sprinklings of giggles and smiles and a ray or two of gratitude before the downpours of grumbling hit each evening.

Then it was Thursday and the camp wide team scavenger hunt was upon us. I had pulled aside two of my girls - one a strong leader, the other a quiet and cautious girl - and asked them both to do something for me: be vocally positive and encouraging. My CIT and I sat all the girls down and stressed the fact that the obstacles would take team work and encouragement; we weren't sure if our words were doing any good until that evening when we were all at the starting line.

We cried.

The girls were nothing but positive, kind, considerate. With only one incident the entire hour we were running across camp, my CIT and I were leaping for joy. But the final test came - and it wasn't even an obstacle. It was the fact that we were coming in second place, not first. I was preparing for the whining voices saying "We didn't even come in first, what was the point!?" or "We did all this work for nothing, this is stupid!"...I waited...

And nothing happened.

 The girls were quiet for a moment and then they were smiling, high-fiving each other, cheering on the other teams passing by, laughing. I couldn't believe it. The emotional downpour was gone, and in its place, the sunshine was brighter than ever! It took all week, but my girls learned the importance of encouragement and positive attitudes.

Blessed. That's what I am.

- Bekah S.

Little Brother

I couldn't breathe. By Thursday afternoon I couldn't hear. Thursday evening brought on a small fever, and I just wanted to go to bed. Summer colds are the worst! But worse than a summer cold, was my attitude about it. I couldn't seem to stay focused enough on Thursday; I was taking every step and going through every motion of my job with one thought: "Just finish this, then you can go to sleep".

It was never "just this one last thing" though, as I and the other counselors kept adding new items to our To Do List. Finally, it was late Thursday night - we were almost done for the day - and we had one more task. Every Thursday at camp, since it's the last night, we hold a bonfire and eat s'mores; it's quite the ordeal. So, there we were around the fire; about forty-five crazy boys, a handful of sleepy counselors, and two sick ones. 

Rewind. All week long, I and the other girl counselors were running camp behind the scenes (This is something we do every boys' week, and that the boy counselors do every girls' week). It gives us a chance to recoup from counseling the week before, and to build relationships in a different way with the campers. One young boy in particular - we'll call him S - became something of a little brother to me. He was a crazy kid, with a kind heart, and a super thick afro.  

All through the week, S and I would run into each other (it's a small camp, and with only forty-five campers, it's not hard) and I would ask him how his day was, what he was learning, and what his favorite part had been so far. He was always quick to give me an answer, then slap a high-five before running on to his next activity. I loved how positive he was! 

Fast forward. Back to Thursday night. I was standing in the sea of boys around the camp fire, half there and half consumed with thoughts of my pillow, when S came over. I looked at him and smiled (well, it probably looked like a smirk) 

"Hey, S. What's up?"

"Oh, not much." He said as he took a huge bite from a s'more.

"What's been your favorite part of the week, S?"

"Hmm..." He thought for a minute. "Probably this."

"S'mores!?" I was a little shocked. I thought that surely it would be something deeper than a sugary snack.

"Well, actually..." S looked at me and smiled. "I just accepted Jesus - then I got s'mores."

My shock only grew then, but in a joyful way. I was thrilled! 

"Oh my goodness, S! That is so incredible! Ah! Who've you told? Have you talked with any body from the Center?"

"Yeah, I talked with Reed (his counselor) and Dave (the director)..." S looked over at me again and smiled. "Then I came to you."

He came to me third. I couldn't quite believe that. All week long I hadn't had any kind of spiritual impact on him, none of us girls had. But somewhere along the way he and the other boys began to see us as mentors just as they saw their counselors that way. I am blessed to be able to say that Thursday night, S went from being my little camper, to being my little brother in Christ.

You never know how you're impacting someone. You might never have the chance to share Christ with them - but if S has taught me anything, its that your words aren't the only way you show people the love of God. I want to encourage each of you to live Christ out by loving others through your actions - we don't always have to speak the truth to make an impact.

In Him,

Bekah S.

I Don't Have What It Takes

The week was off to a smooth start: no one was in a fight with any one; everyone was excited for camp; the weather looked great...oh, and I sat in the middle of a group of ten high school aged girls, in total shock. What did I just get myself into, Lord?




I don't have the patience to lead these girls with grace.


I don't have the energy to run on only 4-5 hours of sleep each night.


I don't have the answers to their questions.


I don't have...




When I focus on what I don't have, it is beyond easy to get lost in negativity. But as I sat with my ten girls in our family room (NOTE: ask me about that, it's a fun story!) I was reminded of what the Lord has shown to me time and again throughout the years, that I don't have what it takes - but He does.
And it is in my weakness that His strength is made perfect and His extravagant love is made evident.




Amazing, isn't it, that when you allow our God to speak through your life how easy it is to love people? How easy it becomes to open up, be transparent, and to accept with grace those around us. And isn't it even more amazing, the sense of wonder you experience when the Lord's strength consumes your weaknesses?


Friend, it so is.


That first day of High School Girl's Week was my wake up call to the fact that my God is greater, stronger, higher than any other. That I was nothing and could do nothing without His breath in my lungs; indeed, He was reminding me to breath...in...out...in...out.


Doing life on Monday, Friday seemed far away; waking up on Friday, it seemed to have come too soon. Each of my ten campers had grown so much in my heart, filling up more space than I thought I could possibly have for them! They each are unique, creative, silly, deep - all in their own ways.


Yep. Friday came way too fast. But as I gave my girls one last hug, and prayed over them as they loaded into the van, I knew that the Lord had shown them love. Through my willingness to recognize that I didn't have what it would take, God stepped in and gave me what I didn't have. Believe me, He longs to do the same for you - allow Him to be the strength you never realized you don't have. We are weaker than we think - and He is stronger than we can ever know.

Blank

I've tried all weekend to sit  down and write this post for all of you, but I keep drawing a blank. How do I wrap this last week up into a handful of words? It's harder than you'd think. I suppose I'll just start at the beginning and  work my way to the end.


As it was the High School Boys week, the girls and I moved into the camper on the edge of camp grounds. All week long, we prepped camp for the summer and ran errands around for the boys. I reached a new level of tired I've never reached before; literally being able to fall asleep standing up is a talent. Each morning I woke up to Jesus, a cup of coffee, and the sleepy smiles of 40 young men. They always smelled funny, listened to their music incredibly loud, and teased me and the other girls - and it was wonderful.


Not all the boys were the happy go lucky campers that some were; there were a few who were just rough. Say their names and I would equate it with "Little Stinker".


But we watched as the week went by and the shrouds of pain, anger, and defiance fell off. We watched as a boy who casually admitted that he "knew he was on the path of destruction", turn his feet around and run to Jesus. We watched as a boy who came to camp silently, left laughing and cutting up with friends he didn't have before. We watched as the boys worshiped, all of them in a tangle of feet dancing and fists striking the air, voices raised to shouting. We watched as the laughed, grew serious, got angry, became homesick.


We watched as the vans drove away and all the boys waved to us, throwing hearts and I'll miss you's - well, one of them passed us his phone number through hand motions, haha. We watched as one van returned for a forgotten item and one of the little stinkers from day one climbed out, stood in front of us and said, "You girls do know I love you, right?"


All we could do was smile and cry. It wasn't an easy week - but all of it was beautiful. Seeing Christ move so fluidly through the lives of these students, not in one big bang of miraculous proportions but softly and calmly, is a new side of Him I've never seen.


But I want to see it again.


As my team dives into the next week of High School Girls, I invite you to pray with us for energy for the staff and openness to the Spirit. Pray for a peace to settle over my heart and the hearts of my teammates as we meet our girls today, and move in to the next week of loving them.


In All His Love,


Bekah S.

Extravagant Love

Ten college students sat in a circle last Monday night, talking about the idea of "extravagant love".

I am the youngest of those ten; each of my teammates coming from their second or third year of college to dedicate their summer to Camp Summit. We all came in to the week of training with very little idea of what we were getting in to. Sure, we knew we would be counselors for a camp that opened up to inner city kids - but most of us didn't know what that even looked like. We didn't know each other, and we certainly didn't know what to expect. But as the week went on, all of us began to see just how much of an impact we could make in the lives of young kids simply by loving them extravagantly. 

Define "extravagant": Going beyond a normal or acceptable limit in degree or amount [Merriam-Webster Dictionary and Thesaurus] 

Define "love" : Unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another 

[Merriam-Webster Dictionary and Thesaurus]

That's pretty much it. As counselors, we discussed how best to reach these kids where they are - and I'll give you an idea of that later - and we all agreed that the best thing we can do is to reach these kids with unselfish, loyal concern that goes beyond society's accepted norm for love. To love them continuously, without regard for our own personal emotions, and show them that we care for who they are where they are at. Only when they see that we love them, will we be able to show them how much God loves them. 

So, where are these kids coming from? Let me tell you.

Many of these children don't know what it feels like to have three meals a day - some show up having only eaten one meal the day before, and nothing since. Nearly all of these kids come to Camp because their parents need a 'week off' - a chance to do what they want without a little person getting in the way. Several of them are victims of sexual abuse, rape, physical and verbal abuse, who need a way to come out of the situation and heal. Yes, you should know that all of this is happening right here - not just in the slums of a third world country, but here in our towns in our neighborhoods. Camp Summit is open to any kid who wants to come, free of charge through the generous donors and support raised by the staff; these kids are driven out to camp for a week away from the stress of their home lives, surrounded by nothing but the love of Jesus and opportunities to explore their talents and gifts.

On Tuesday, my team and I had the opportunity to lead a day camp - without being allowed to speak of Christ or promote Camp, as it was purely a day of fun - for about 100 second grade students from a local public elementary. I lead story time, and my teammates split into activities like crafts, rock wall, and basketball. 

These kids were hysterical! Each one was unique and totally animated; loving on them was an easy thing to do. There was laughter every where in the building, and I can't help but smile as I remember how much the children loved listening to "Charlie the Caterpillar" (honestly, I never got tired of reading it either!). Later in the week, my teammates and I received thank you letters from each of the kids. My heart overflowed, and many of us began tearing up as we heard the words children had written:

 "I want to be a counselor someday"

"Thank you for inviting us"

"You never let me give up, and I am so happy I made it through the rock wall!"

Dozens of the kids came to their teachers the next day asking for permission slips to go to camp; they all saw love in us, and it ignited in them a desire for more. My team and I were so encouraged by this show of excitement in response to something we viewed as small - we showed love to these kids, and they soaked it all up. It was just a taste of the opportunities we will have throughout the rest of the summer, but what a taste! 

As we move throughout the next nine weeks of ministry I ask that all of you come along side us in prayers for extravagant love. I am praying for you as well; that you might have opportunities and courage enough to show extravagant love to those in your life. You will never realize the impact in can make in a life. 

With All His Love,

Bekah S.