Arrival in Abilene (Take 2)

Well, despite problems with my vehicle over the weekend, I’m finally back in A-Town. School has started for the students, and my job hunt has begun in earnest. I’ve got a few leads, so I’m hopeful. But what I’m most excited about is recruiting for Camp of the Hills.

For the better part of four years, I’ve been the unofficial recruiter for the Aggies For Christ. I loved doing it. Anyone who stood still long enough heard about how I thought they should spend their summer. But after a few years, it seemed like they stopped listening. My core group of friends grew up, moved on, or got caught up in summer school or work. I found it difficult to repeat my  early success with the younger generations.

But now things have changed. I’m now fishing from a stocked pond that hasn’t seen a line dropped in it in years. And I spent two hours on Monday talking with one of the all-time greatest recruiters in Camp history, Chris Field. He gave me lots of tips for making the most of my recruiting time.

In other news, during my first few days in A-Town, I had a bad case of Pink Eye, which was uncool. I was feverish and head-achey and just felt miserable most of the time. Despite this, Adam and I were able to get power and water turned on for our house. Eventually. (There were a couple of days in which we only used flashlights.)

I’m going to sign off for now. I need to get some more work done around the house and talk to some friends I’ve been missing.

Throwback Post #1

Well, today I decided to go through my old blog in search for a fun story from back in the day. I found one that I had almost forgotten. As fantastic as it sounds, this story really is true. Hope you enjoy a look back, and if responses are positive, I might do a few more to spice things up when I don’t feel like typing up an all new post.

Setting: Emily and Asa’s house, Saturday July 23rd, 2006.

Background Info: Emily had been taking people out on their Ranger during the day, so I decided to try it out. Emily drove, while Missy and Lauren rode shotgun with Becky and myself standing in the back. She drove fairly crazily through their land, over hills and through bushes and such. At the tops of hills, I discovered a little hop could go a long way. Soon I was flying with my body horizontal, only about six feet about the ground, only holding onto the bars with my hands. When the ride ended, I was not satisfied.

Later, I convinced Asa to take us out again. By this time it was dark, so we had the lights on. Asa drove, with my good friend Steven in the front seat. Ronnie and I were manning the back. Asa drove a good deal faster than Emily, so Ronnie’s hat flew off within thirty seconds of our departure.

Since I felt that I was experienced in the thrill seeking in the back of a Ranger, I took the first opportunity to make a big jump. Asa was going hard and fast toward a bump/hill thing, and just as he reached the top, I jumped. Everything began going very fast, so what will take two paragraphs to explain happened in less than three seconds, but please bear with me.

My hands remained firmly holding the Ranger’s roll cage bars as I lifted off. My feet were soon horizontal, as usual, but something unexpected happened. Apparently, Asa felt the need to slow down for safety’s sake, which meant my momentum was out of control. My lower body suddenly flew over the top of me, until I was in a hand-stand vertically.

Ronnie was yelling, “Oh my gosh!” from behind me, which caused Steven to turn around. The only thing he could see was Ronnie and the darkness behnd him, no Drew, due to the fact that I was vertically upside-down above him, and falling fast.

Instead of a hand-stand, think of those Olymic gymnasts who swing on the Uneven Bars. I was swinging the entire time. I instinctively knew not to let go, or else I would fly completely off and hit the ground hard, and possibly find cacti with my face, which seemed unpleasant. I twisted my body as the swinging brought me into the final instants of my flip, gyrating just enough to fit through the hole in the Roll Cage. As I completed my 360 Flip into a very small area surrounded by metal bars, I came to a stop sitting up.

Ronnie was still saying “Oh my gosh!!!”(It was drawn out a little, but it all happened really fast, so he didn’t have time to say anything else.) when Steven turned back towards the front. He turned due to the fact that a 6′2″ 165 pound male with long hair had just fallen out of the sky and landed in his lap.

Somehow, I was unscathed throuhout the whole process. Unfortunately, my rear does not have too much in the way of padding, so my butt ended up crushing Steven’s left thigh. He was complaining about it for some time afterwards.

The Best Week of My Life

Teen Week is always hit or miss for me. I seem to get the best of the best or the worst of the worst. More often I got the problematic kids in the past, but that changed for me Week 6. Five campers came through my cabin that week, and forever changed me.

When they began calling out who was in my cabin, I was nervous. I’d been given the oldest kids. They looked pretty hardened. Tattoos and corn rows. My five were very different. Three from inner city Houston, one who called Oklahoma City home, and one hailing from Waco.

I’m always wary when there’s one kid who doesn’t seem to fit in, and this week that appeared to be J.B. He was the only white kid, and had some pretty severe mental handicaps. He wasn’t able to speak much at all. He was the one from Waco, brought by the Church Under the Bridge, which works heavily with homeless people and the down-and-out.

Then again, James didn’t seem to fit the mold of the prototypical camper either. He was a self-proclaimed “Rocker,” wearing skull and crossbones belt and suspenders, tight jeans, and a black sleeve on his left arm. I could tell this week was going to be interesting, to say th least.

But lo and behold, within the first day or two, James tells us either during or right after a Bible study that while he believes in God and Jesus, he doesn’t really know much about them. That’s why he came to camp, apparently, for the sole purpose of learning more about God.

This is the kind of camper counselors have dreamed about. I felt like I had waited for seven summers to finally be ready for this one week, this one camper. During our chilling in the cabin time, I lent him my Bible, and started him out in Matthew. This kid reads twelve chapters in one sitting, pausing only when he got confused by some of Jesus’ deeper teaching to ask me what it meant.

Interestingly enough, everything he was asking about boiled down to one major point, a point I’m sure Jesus wanted to make clear back then, but also wanted me to share this summer. Questions about getting angry and calling someone bad names, looking at a woman lustfully being as bad as adultery, and most of his other queries boiled down to Jesus wanting more than obedient actions. He wants our hearts to be in the right place. If we have that, obedience and love in action will surely follow.

With J.B., things were more difficult. I took a lot to understand what he was trying to communicate, and he was frustrating at times. But my co-counselors and I were able to work with him, and he had a great heart. What I was most impressed with was how respectful and understanding the four other campers were. Even though he could be embarrassing and immature, they always treated him not only well, but as a friend. It was amazing to watch.

I talked to the two guys who really seemed to look out for him the most (Who happened to be the most thuggish looking ones in the entire Camp.), Darieon and Ray Ray. I let them know how much we appreciated them looking out for J.B., and both just sorta shrugged their shoulders at me. To them, it wasn’t a big deal to treat someone different kindly. Ray Ray even mentioned that there were similar problems in his family, and went on to talk about how that shaped the way he looked at people.

I was touched.

By the end of the week, I knew something special had happened. I don’t know where those guys are right now, or what they’re doing. But each of them know more about God’s love than they did at the beginning of the summer. And so do I.

The Final Night of My Counseling

Friday night was eventful for me to say the least. I’ve been retelling this story quite a bit in the last few days, and think it definitely deserves a post of its own.

One of my co-counselors second half was this man.

Yes, that is the NFL’s insignia on his shirt. He played Defensive End for the Rams, Jaguars, and Seahawks before retiring last year. He’s a friend of Camp of the Hills, and decided to help us out second half as a counselor. He got put in B1 with me and another new guy, Travis. Things went really well for us, and those weeks together were some of the best I spent at Camp.

But my story takes place on my final night as a counselor. Every Friday night, we hold a banquet and awards ceremony in honor of our kids. The counselors all head up to the front of the dining hall and the kids sit on the ground. Two counselors are chosen to m.c. the night by reading off the names and awards for each child. The awards are broken up by cabins, so the counselors will typically go extra crazy when their cabin is
announced.

All summer long, my specialty had been the flying chest bump when B1 (aka Buno) was called. I smashed into and through most co-counselors, until Brandon started running into me. One time he plowed straight through my 180 pound frame, leaving me lying in the fetal position on the floor. The next week, he took the fall on purpose, so it looked like I had knocked him out. The next to last chest bump had been solid, but neither of us lost our footing. This meant one thing to me…

We had to go all out.

The final awards ceremony was barely off the ground. It seemed like many of the other counselors were tired.  The excitement level was less than usual. Though my body and his were aching from the rigor of the previous few weeks, we were feeling the light at the end of the tunnel bathe us in energy. Twelve hours remained until we were done. This chest bump was going to contain all the enthusiasm and energy we could muster.
As Kevin called out our cabin, I confidently strode opposite of Brandon. I pushed off the wall for extra momentum, and hurtled headlong towards the former NFL star. In retrospect, this doesn’t seem like a great idea. He was running full tilt at me as well, and our collision was, to borrow a phrase from another counselor, epic.

Our chests met as we leaned back to avoid a face to face encounter. Unfortunately, my neck and head didn’t stop moving forward, despite the rest of my body bouncing of his huge torso. I whiplashed forward, and my chin slammed into his right cheek.

The forces of physics caused me to careen off him and onto the ground. I quickly righted myself and hustled back to the hug line, ready to cheer on my campers when they were called. I grabbed my chin, which was throbbing in pain. When I examined my hand, it was covered in blood.

Oops.

I rushed to the bathroom, trying to catch the dripping blood in my hand instead of letting it fall on our new carpet. Brandon and I were both laughing as we looked at each other. Both of us were dropping blood everywhere, and we were grabbing at paper towels to slow the blood loss and clean up the mess. He headed to the nurse’s station, while I mashed a couple of towels on my chin and went back to the line.

I was able to hug some of my kids, but it was clear that I was going to be too much of a distraction. Counselors and campers alike were wanting a chance to inspect my chin. Derick sent me down to the nurse as well, and there a director, board members, and several counselors convinced me to head to the E.R. with Brandon. The next five hours were spent driving to and from Burnet, checking into the hospital, and getting stitched up. Three stitches for me, and facial glue for Brandon. We got back to the cabin around 2:45 AM.

It was a hilarious way to go out. I doubt any counselor at CotH has ever made his swan song quite so memorable.  But my favorite part of the story is in the retelling. You see, now I can honestly say that with one hit, I put an NFL Defensive End in the hospital. He described our collision as the difference between a collegiate hit and a professional one.  You know I’ll be telling and retelling this story for a long time.

Conclusion

And so it ended. More than five years as a counselor, seven full summers, and nine years of involvement. Thousands of campers have walked through the doors of Camp during my tenure. Hundreds have passed through my cabins. Now I sit back in College Station, exhausted and sore. Mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually drained. And I couldn’t be happier.

I have many stories from the second half of the summer that I need to share. J.B. and James from Teen Week. The allergic reaction scare. The infamous Week 7 combined with Aggie HYPE and Ja’Colby. My
final hours in the swimming pool and leading fast songs. Chest bumping an NFL Defensive End and finding myself in the Burnet E.R.

I’ve got a week or so until I move to Abilene, which should be plenty of time to retell each of them, but for now I just want to hit the most important points.

500 plus kids from age four to nineteen heard the message of Jesus Christ at Camp this summer. We were short-staffed to the point of keeping me awake at night, yet God was faithful to us. I had to deal with some of my toughest kids, my first break-up and the fact that I’m not as good as I used to be, but still stumbled through the finish line with a smile on my scarred, brown face. And after all that has happened, I still love Camp more than any other place on this planet. Nowhere else feels as much like home, nowhere else am I so mightily used by God.

It was a good summer.