I recently came across a box of memories from 2002-2003. These were the two summers I worked at camp WAPO. The notes, journal entries, pictures, and art projects I found made me feel reflective about my time as a camp counselor.
I spent a week at WAPO every summer growing up. Located on a peninsula between two gorgeous lakes near Amery, Wisconsin, this camp was my favorite place in the world. I looked up to and admired my college-aged counselors, and anticipated a time when I would be old enough to be in that role. That time finally came in the summer of 2002.
Driving up to WAPO to begin my first summer as a counselor was one of the most exciting times of my life. I fretted about what I should wear (I'll be running around a lot, but I also want to make a good impression, so do I curl my hair?? Do I wear a cute top? My favorite doc marten sandals?), how I should present myself (should I be the shy one? The out-going one? The boy-crazy one? The Jesus freak?), and how the social aspect would pan out (I was freshly out of a relationship and looking for fresh meat, but I also wanted to make friends and be social). Upon arriving, I was thrown into a "Family" (a small group of counselors who planned activities together) of about 8 counselors, three of whom would end up having a significant impact on my life. We decided on JIMBF as our family name, which stands for Jesus is My Boyfriend. We had two weeks of staff training, during which I lived in a cabin with a dozen other girls my age (at 19-22, we could hardly call ourselves women). Although this seems completely uncharacteristic for anyone who knows me now, during those weeks I was the first one up and in the shower, and usually the only one to blow dry my hair, put on mascara and lip gloss, and carefully choose my outfit for the day.
My first summer as a counselor was intense. I turned 21 that August, and although I looked and felt like a grown-up, the reality is that I was still a child. Although the young girls I counseled saw me as a role model and a good Christian example, this really couldn't have been further from the truth. I often didn't feel like I was being honest with my campers, or with myself, by leading Bible studies and answering their questions about faith. My time as a camp counselor was just one part in a long process of examining my religious faith, which is something that's still on-going and a work in progress.
Relationally, camp counseling was the most unique experience of my life. My co-workers were also my best friends. There was no boundary between work and play, 23 hours a day (we had a one-hour break afternoon, during which we'd pile the maximum number of people possible into a car and head to the town coffee shop for a Frescata... a highly caloric frozen caffeinated chocolate beverage). We had weekends off, and I spent as many as possible sticking around camp. We'd hang out on the lake during the day, and stay up until dawn in the staff lounge on "big blue", this disgusting old couch that everyone loved, reasons unknown. I really felt like I fit in with my peers at camp, and got along well with ALMOST everyone. I formed close friendships with two other girls, and the three of us stayed in touch for many years. Recently, I've mostly lost touch with one of them, but the other remains one of my closest friends. If there is one single thing for which I'm most grateful to WAPO, it is that friendship.
In addition to fun and friends, I was also looking for love that summer, and I found it almost immediately. Although it was definitely not a right fit long-term, I have nothing but positive things to say about my camp relationship. It lasted through that first summer, long-distance during the school year following, through a second summer at camp, and half-way through another school year. I invested much more of my life to that relationship than any 21-22 year old should. Although I felt completely blind-sided by what seemed to me to be an abrupt ending, looking back, I can see now that saying good-bye was the best thing he could have done both for himself AND for me. We parted ways at a mid-winter camp reunion, just a few yards from the spot we had met a year and half prior.... and we haven't seen each other since. At the time, the 19 months we'd been together felt like forever, and starting over "at ground zero", as I referred to it, felt impossible. Nine years later, that time in my life almost feels like a blip on the radar. A blip that taught me a lot, and that I remember with fondness. I think, and hope, that he would agree. Although broken hearts are one of the hardest things many people go through in life, they also help us remember our strength as individuals, and the importance of balance and having multiple "significant others" in our lives, beyond our romantic partners. During the time that I felt weaker than I've ever felt before or since, I also felt infinitely supported and loved by my family and friends.
If you were ever a camp counselor, you probably have similar experiences and stories. Ultimately, I think my summers as camp counselor hold all of my most influential "coming of age" stories. I worked a little, played a lot, made mistakes, made friends, made enemies, fell in love. As a young camper looking forward, being a counselor seemed glamorous and grown-up and exciting. As an adult looking back, being a counselor was formative; a learning experience and a stepping stone. If you are reading this and were a part of my WAPO experience, thank you for that.
