Like Coming Home

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I want to know about homesickness. I want to know that my handwriting reminds me of my mother. I want to know that chocolate reminds me of Sunday mornings.

I want to know if there will ever be a day when I don’t miss home. I want to know that the answer will always be no.

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I want to know that leaving home is a pit in your stomach. I want to know that leaving anything is hard and that leaving something good is terrible. I want to know how to leave with grace; I want to know how to return with grace. I want to know that I am trying.

I want to know that some days I am homesick and some days I think I must be exactly where I need to be.

I want to know that some days are not the best days but I am still made kinder and bolder because of them. I want to know that everyday my capacity to love and to be kind grows. I want to know that the difference between happiness and anger is a choice. I want to know that this choice is never made for you. I want to know that I am learning.

I want to know that when I asked God to make me happier, he made me more loving instead.
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I want to know that some days it feels bittersweet to change, but that most days it feels like coming home. •

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xo | Megan

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What it Sounds Like When Two Sisters Write a Song About Their Church Camp

Cover - two sistersIn my last post, I wrote about my experience as a camp counselor. As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up going with my family to the same church camp every summer. Two years ago, I started writing a song about what camp meant to me and it wasn’t until I got my sister Mallory to help me that I finally finished the song this summer. Since I’ve been on the topic of camp, I thought I’d share that song on my blog tonight. I know a lot of people have had similar experiences at our camp or at their own camps––experiences that seem impossible to describe because they mean so much. This song is for you.

xo | Megan

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3 Things Being a Camp Counselor Has Taught Me

 

 

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For as long as I can remember, portions of my summers have been spent out at the church camp my grandparents met at and my mom grew up going to. I hold countless precious memories from summers I’ve spent there with friends and family and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without those moments. This summer was my third year being a camp counselor and––now that I’m in college––my first year being there exclusively as staff. I spent four weeks at camp this summer and I loved that for the first time, I got to spend every moment serving the campers. I believe that no matter what I am always learning and growing, but I think being a camp counselor has stretched me the most. I’ve been wanting to write about being a camp counselor and what it has taught me. Here’s what I know:

  1. Being a camp counselor has taught me that my time isn’t mine. Because I’ve grown up going to camp, I have a lot of friends who also go every year and sometimes I fall into only spending time with them. It’s so easy to be selfish, especially when you only have a week with people. But that’s not the reason why I keep going back to camp. That’s not why I spend a week sweating through t-shirts and getting eaten by mosquitoes. That’s not why God doesn’t let me turn down a director when I’m asked to join their staff. I’m not at camp for myself and I’m not at camp to be comfortable. I’m there for the kids––to point them to God and love them deeply. The way I see it, my time isn’t mine, is their’s and I need to be there for them whenever they need me, including the times when I think they don’t. What I want has to leave the picture entirely in order for me to be a camp counselor and in order for me to follow Jesus better. Ultimately, my time is God’s––both on the camp grounds and off––and being a camp counselor has taught me to let go of what’s selfish and look to what’s holy.

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2. Being a camp counselor has taught me empathy. Understanding where people are coming from in their flaws and well as in their kindness comes mindlessly for me and I’ve often wondered how I got to be so empathetic. Tracing it back leads to my days counseling at camp. There’s something safe about camp and it opens people up and makes them vulnerable. The amount of times I’ve seen hearts hung on sleeves with trembling but without fear are countless. I’ve heard stories of brokenness and seen sobs that mend and my role as a camp counselor in those moments has taught me that everyone has soft spots and everyone has places that hurt. And it’s caused me to understand the words that sting, the conversations that are awkward, the jokes that get annoying, the excitement that’s overkill, and so much more. I’ve been given the empathy to understand that everyone is worth loving and God reminds me repeatedly, calling me out when I bury empathy in hatred and jealousy and pretend like I don’t make excuses too. 

3. Being a camp counselor has taught me about my impactI honestly want to saw my arm off when I think about kids looking up to me. I know I’m never going to live up to their expectations and I’m never going to be the example I want them to have, but it’s an inevitable reality that campers will idolize you. They’ll want to be you and they’ll want to be your best friend. I remember thinking this about my counselors and I know every camper does it and I’ve learned to be a better person because of it. I don’t think there’s anything to teach you to walk like Jesus better than knowing that seven twelve year olds are looking at you to call the next shots. While my faith is ultimately between me and God, there’s another strong influence found in christian examples and mentors. You can’t control who sees you, but you can control how you live. Being a camp counselor has taught me that because of God, my life has greater purpose and meaning than I’ll ever know.

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Being a camp counselor may not be for everyone and no one has had or is going to have the exact same experiences that I’ve had. However, if you ever get the opportunity, being a camp counselor might just be the best thing you’ve ever said yes to. Either way, God knows what’s up and everyday I’m learning to trust him better.

xo | Megan

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life continues to move even when we aren’t ready

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forgetting is fast

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After starting (and never finishing) multiple posts this summer, I’ve concluded that it’s impossible to catch up on everything I didn’t write about over the past seven months. I’m either too far removed from it that I’ll never be able to write about it or simply still need more time before I can write poignantly about not only my freshman year but also the summer that followed. In general, it was the worst year of my life but I’m 100% okay with the fact that it happened and feel as though it was necessary. Any amount of further detail I try to go into leads to a tangled mess of this-then-that accompanied by a thousand sideways glances. So, I’m leaving freshman year where it is. God has somehow taken the load of last year and replaced it with an overflowing amount of peace and grace and I am learning to take it with thankfulness and without question. I’m high key the happiest and most peaceful I have ever been even though less things are right in my life now than when I was at my lowest. The only explanation is something heavenly and I am ultimately at a loss for words. •

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III.

I straight up love the camp I go to every summer. I feel like everyone thinks their church camp is superior, but mine actually is…in my opinion ;). Having just finished my freshman year of college, I spent three weeks of June leading and loving and learning and sweating exclusively as staff. As weird as it was to realize that I would never be a camper again, it also felt unbelievably right. And in a strange way, being staff reminded me why I want to keep blogging. I spent the final week of the three making a yearbook. I threw a lot of what I would write in a journal or post online into a word document and printed it 100 times over, eventually handing it out to all the people I’d spent the week with. Documenting the week and our memories like that felt familiar because I used to document my entire life like that when I consistently blogged. I realized during that week how much I missed writing and taking photos, and how I’d never noticed before, but when I’m not blogging, my creative life loses its abundance. Blogging gives me an opportunity to be in a constant state of creativity in a way that I have never been able to replicate in a journal or otherwise. I want desperately to have that be part of my life again.

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This post is the first step toward getting back to where I was starting new and going in the directions that feel right. I’m struggling to change and grow this site as impossibly much as I personally have in the past seven months, and I’m finding ways to make it all work. It feels so good to be writing again and to be creating the first of many more. I love that life continues to move and change even when we aren’t ready, but gives us moments to catch up. So, hello again; I’ve been gone for a crazy amount of time but I’m finally catching up. •

still dynamite | Megan

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