Fulfilled
The hard shell of the light blue suitcase stood by the front door like a soldier. It was ready to go, but I wasn't.
Church camp meant time with my friends, escaping my day-to-day life and eating three meals a day. But I wanted to stay home because I was afraid. Afraid of being without my mom, afraid of what might happen if I wasn't home, afraid of not being able to sleep, and afraid of talking, walking, or screaming in my sleep.
My mom took my sister and me to First Christian Church at her friend's invitation. Raised as a Seventh Day Adventist, she had not practiced her religion for many years. Non-denominational Christianity was not bursting with as many rules, cultural expectations, or customs. Every week, we dressed up and spent the morning in Sunday school studying the bible and attending worship service to hear the sermon. Once a month, the church had a potluck in Fellowship Hall. I enjoyed all the food options we couldn't afford at home and ate until I was past full.
When I joined the youth group in 7th grade, I loved going to the big houses each week, indulging in snacks, and belonging to something. When the leaders began to talk about summer camp, I was excited about the possibility. But I knew we couldn't afford it. I was surprised when my mom said I would be able to attend because of a scholarship.
Camp was full of fun. Days spent swimming, crafting, singing, eating, and talking—nights spent making memories with trips to the canteen shop for treats, sitting by the campfire, telling ghost stories, staying up late, and giggling without hesitation. I was looking forward to singing a solo at the talent show at the end of the week.
I learned about God and Jesus and read the Bible in our small groups that summer. I learned how to pray by listening to others pray out loud. I earned a silver medallion necklace for memorizing the Peace Prayer of St. Francis. I wanted to be a courageous spiritual warrior like St. Francis of Assisi. I believed Jesus was my savior and that baptism in the lake made me new, unbroken and saved.
I defined my worth as a person, became aware of my strengths, realized my limitations, and embraced my talents that summer before I turned 13. For one week, I was happy, satisfied, unafraid. I wasn't worried about taking care of or pleasing others or wondering what they thought of me. I was content writing in my journal and discovering my flaws didn't mean I was terrible or unloved or unlovable.
No one yelled at me. I was messy and human and accepted. I felt free in a way that I have wanted to replicate ever since. Perhaps that kind of liberty can only happen in the confines of camp life. I left prepared to overcome anything.
And then I returned home.
Wearing the necklace in a school yearbook photo.