this difficult little slice of heaven

Before my whirlwind year as a campus missionary begins in full in a little less than a month, I will complete my fourth (and no doubt final) summer on staff at the Wisconsin Lions Camp. In years' past I have described those 440 acres of property as a slice of heaven, a place where the outside world stands still and all that matters is that the dozens of children at camp that week have an awesome time. When I'm at camp, immersed in my work there, it doesn't matter who's running for president or what stock market is plummeting that week. What matters while I'm at camp is combatting this camper's homesickness, or spending time with that group of campers who are playing in the swimming area. None of the rest of the world matters, and to me, that oblivion is treasured. This year, it's been hard. I don't know what it is about this year, but it's been a difficult slice of heaven to savor at times. There have been a fair share of my own personal struggles this year while at summer camp - perhaps it's the anxiety for what awaits me in the fall, perhaps it's other, outside factors, perhaps it has a lot to do with the separation from my family in what has been several trying months. Whatever it is, this summer has been a challenge, and this summer I've learned that it's those little moments - peeking in on a cabin, only to be invited to hear a bedtime story, teaching a younger camper a favorite song at the dance, or helping a child without sight experience the camp world to the extent he can - that make this experience entirely worth it. Sure, it's been a struggle. Sure, there have been times I've failed miserably or had my confidence entirely shaken. There's been hurt, there have been tears. But if I can provide just a moment of happiness for one child, in one week - my mission has been accomplished this summer. If I can rise above my challenges with this difficult slice of heaven and bring a memorable experience to even just one camper, my job will have been entirely worth it. And it's those little confirmations of campers' happiness - the smiles, the "I-don't-want-to-leave-camp" Friday conversations, the "thanks-for-everything" goodbyes, that remind me why I've returned to this difficult little slice of heaven for four summers. In my own selfish sense, I feel my small contributions to these children contribute in part to God's work on earth. The time, the effort, the energy I expound on these kids, however grudgingly some days, is, in a sense, doing the work of God on earth. I've been His hands, His feet, His voice, His ears, His eyes, to hundreds of children for four amazing summers. And this belief, which I often have to remind myself to keep at my core when things get really tough - is another reason I return to this slice of heaven. It is my prayer this week, as I retreat from camp for seven days to focus on moving to Madison and beginning my missionary work this fall, that I will stay true to these innermost beliefs of the past four summers and close out my work at camp as best I can as His feet, His eyes, His ears, His voice. "Christ has no body but yours, No hands, no feet on earth but yours, Yours are the eyes with which he looks Compassion on this world, Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good, Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, Yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now but yours, No hands, no feet on earth but yours, Yours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world. Christ has no body now on earth but yours." - St. Teresa of Avila