Being a camp counselor was probably my favorite job ever. I would give everything that I had six days a week - singing with motions, speaking Truth at the campfire, lifeguarding by the blob. It was full-on joy, ministry, adventure, and emotion. All for the glory of God.
But one specific night remains deep in my heart, swallowed by my soul like a sip of rose tea, sweet and warm, cozy and life-giving all at the same time.
It was a Thursday night, the night of one-on-ones. When the kids could ask or share anything with their counselor , in private and alone, on a blanket outside the cabin. Just the camper and counselor, a special time to unveil worries, voice home struggles, work out theology, and share in the Gospel. And pray.
The moon always hung low, darkness soothed the day away, crickets chirped in the crisp woods behind, the crackle of the fire turning to ashes popcorned in the sky. Campers cozied in the nightgowns and old T-shirts, snuggled in sleeping bags and strew across sixteen bunks of beds. One at a time, we'd whisper names and call them out to the blanket outside, their personal emporium with wise counselor and a safe space.
This particular night, clouds shadowed the sky, and rain rippled near by.
I sat cross-legged, nestled under the starry night sky, sharing stories and listening to teenage sagas, praying for wisdom and strength of soul.
The pitter patter of rain drew closure, as I drew near to listen. I started to pray. For God's sacred covering, for His shelter. For his protection. This blanket, this time, this one-on-one was sacred space in the week of a camper.
Rain turned from sprinkles to droplets, from quiet mist to gentle thunder. We watched the night sky, I willed it to stop raining while simultaneously fidgeting for a back-up plan. The camper kept talking.
Rain drizzled and leaked from the sky, quiet thunder rumbled alongside. The glow of cabin lights were our only flicker in the sedated storm.
The camper kept chatting, conversation and cares of the heart spilled from her lips.
I listened in, her heart spread wide.
Then I looked around.
The blanket was dry.
I was dry.
Anne (my counselor-in training) was dry.
The camper was dry.
Rain dotted every leaf around us, prickled every cabin roof, and sifted in the sand on the dirt.
But not in the circle of our blanket.
A heavenly umbrella, God's presence. drew a circle around us, protecting us from the rain.
Wet and rainy all around us, but dry on our blanket, only my camper and I.
I'll never forget this story, this night. Because God did the impossible, for the remembrance to me of his Glory. That he could, that he can, stop the rain from the cloud in the sky. And, that he Did. For me, just this camper and I.
