Jessica's Adventures

I’ve been thinking about transition, dreams, and contentment a bit lately. It’s that time of year when my family asks me for a Christmas list because, for many of us, our love language is giving gifts. Or, at least, it’s one of our love languages, a way of saying, I value you, I treasure you, I want you to be happy.

So, my cousin contacted us to let us know that our lists were insufficient. Probably because my grandpa starts Christmas shopping in July. So last night, just before we turned in, my husband remarked, “I don’t know what else to ask for that’s not really expensive.” I thought for a moment, then named 5-6 things I could imagine he could want or need. We laughed at how well I knew him and how good I am at thinking of gifts. Then I asked him to try to do the same for me, since I don’t have any idea of what to add to my list either. He was stumped. I think his exact words were, “If I knew what you wanted, I would know what to get you every year.”

As I lay down, I pondered his words. Why is it that I don’t want things? Why is it that I can’t come up with a good list of things that can be ordered and wrapped and given? Honestly, I think it’s because I’m content with my life for the most part. I have everything I need and then some. Sure, we have recurring needs – diapers, wipes, food, gas, etc. – but not the kinds of things that most folks think make good gifts.

But I refuse this year to ask for wasteful things. In the past, I’ve filled up lists with books that look good that I’ve never read, movies I like but never sit down to watch, or music that sits dormant on an ancient iPod. There’s something within me that has known this was not right, but this year, is adamant in saying, “No!”

Perhaps it’s because I’m in a different place this year. I’ve now been a mom for over a year and my perspective has been radically, irrevocably changed. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been in transition for that year and am just now finding my footing again. The transition of my body that occurred during the birth of my son – that agonizing, amazing time – was only the beginning of this transition of my life.

Recently on Facebook, I’ve been reminded of the fragility of our lives and how many things can cause these transitions. A friend posted the other day that it was 2 months ago that his daughter was born, who has since died. Then today, a friend who had announced that they were expecting shared the hard news that they had miscarried. It all made me think of this poem:

“Harlem” by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?
            Does it dry up
            like a raisin in the sun?
            Or fester like a sore –
            And then run?
            Does it stink like rotten meat?
            Or crust and sugar over –
            like a syrupy sweet?

            Maybe it just sags
            like a heavy load.

            Or does it explode?

Sometimes transition comes on the heels of a dream deferred. And lately, in my experience, that has looked like the lives of children being tragically short. I look at my son, who laughs and plays and tries to run, feeling the precarious nature of things. Last week in youth, we talked about joy and I taught that joy is an abiding gift of God that is deeper than happiness. I wonder in those moments of watching my child, if I could still feel joy if something happened. I trust, by faith, that joy would still be waiting, like a deep pool of peaceful waters, beneath the tumult of trouble or despair.

But when you’re in transition – when all you can do is breathe and cry and curse and try to run from the inescapable pain that will not be denied because it is a part of you – it can be hard to know anything else. I pray for all of us that we will not dry up or fester or rot or become sickeningly sweet or sag or explode. I don’t believe that is the will of God. I believe the tragic times of transition in our lives are a byproduct of the broken, sinful world we live in. But I also believe that God is with us in the transition, no matter how painful, waiting expectantly to bring new life into being.

On Thursday, we had our talent show with the junior high youth at camp. I always really like talent show, even though it means a late night, because by this point of camp, the audience is the best. They receive the gifts as they are intended, not judged on their perfection. And the perfection, really for me, is in the spirit in which they are shared. To see a shy young man that I’ve seen coming to camp for 3 years now get up in front of his peers and lead a song while girls dance behind him is amazing. Then there are the shockingly wonderful God-given gifts that many of our campers bring – singing, playing instruments, creating origami, dancing, and acting just to name a few.

My favorite part of the night was the emcee crew. This team of youth entertained their peers by spoofing directors and senior counselors. The young woman who played me was so funny. She had sunglasses on her head, her hair in a ponytail, the first aid kit on her shoulder, and often greeted the campers with “May the Lord be with you!” And, in the team’s quest for the holy chicken, she was the one who captured it. I couldn’t help but heckle at one point, calling out from the back, “I need a band-aid!” 

Another great part of camp has been the worship. All week we’ve had amazing worship, with many campers sharing testimony about the struggles in their lives and the place of God and community in helping them through it. On Thursday we had our call to discipleship service. We don’t do it on the last night, intentionally, because usually emotions are already high as campers realize that they’re going to be going home soon, leaving behind some of the magic of camp.

So there we are at vesper point, hearing amazing testimony and then we were asked to say yes to God, for the first time or to recommit ourselves to being God’s people in the world. The senior counselors created a ring around the worship space, inviting campers to come to them for prayer as they shared their decisions. It was a beautiful way to be church. That should be us all the time – a community of faith encouraging one another, praying with and for one another, and looking toward how we can impact the world.

Tonight was also wonderful. To address the high level of sadness that often goes with the last night, we decided to really celebrate communion. An SC and I had noted that we use those words to describe what we’re doing, but the energy is low as we approach the table. We confuse reverence with being somber. So we decorated the altar and benches with streamers and balloons and, during communion, had the same SCs who had prayed with and for our campers ring the space with sparklers and bubbles. It was amazing. We expressed what we were grateful for before we all joined in the great thanksgiving. It was a wondrous way to close our week worshipfully.

Tomorrow we send our campers home. We send them back to the joys and struggles of everyday life. And, after hearing their hurts, sharing their dreams, and drawing near to our God together, I will continue to pray for them.