The summer I was nine, my parents
started sending me to an overnight Christian camp. It became a thing I looked
forward to each summer. In the beginning I wasn’t excited, but once I arrived
and met other girls just like me (the kind who practically spent their lives in
church too) I was hype. A lot of us came from different areas, races, and
backgrounds, but we were all about Jesus. My summers at the camp were the best,
because it’s where I felt accepted in ways I hadn’t been, back home or at
school. The set up was nice. We girls were assigned to cabins, with two female counselors
and a group of other young women. The week girls arrived boys weren’t allowed
(except for the male counselors that worked there, which a lot of us ending up
crushing on.) The camp had all kinds of things like horseback riding, golf,
chapel services, swimming, arts and crafts, and a gym where we’d all play games.
Even though I was amongst a tribe of other girls I had a lot in common with, I
was still relatively, quiet and shy, so one day when one of the leaders asked
me to participate in a live recording, I was surprised. To this day I don’t
know why she picked me, but she did.
My job was to read John 3:16, “For God so
loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him
shall not perish but have eternal life.”
It was a go-to scripture that a lot
of Christians usually memorize early on. This reading and recording would take
place during a service the camp was having.
I practiced and I was nervous, but I did it. I’ll never forget that. My
time at camp was when I also started to notice guys, have my first crushes,
build friendships, and grow closer to the Lord. I miss that time, and how unaware
I was of how bad the world could be, and how on fire I was for the Lord. It was
just a good time. People communicated without the distraction of technology,
and were present while enjoying each other’s company. I went to that camp every
summer until was twelve, and I’m grateful to have had the experience.