One Week - RFKC

One week makes a difference.

It's scrawled over everything we do like a promise, a pledge.

One week of braiding hair and letting hair be braided; brushing teeth in the bathroom and outside the cabin; wrapping warm towels around cold girls and celebrating the sunshine when it comes.

One week to go canoeing, take apart old electronics, build things with Grandpa, and play on the wobbly bridge.

One week to cram in two polar bear swims, a birthday party, tea party, hike, bonfire, and fancy dinner; sing Fr*zen, run, laugh, hear the same rap a thousand times, and pass out dozens of stickers as we try to coax perpetually distracted girls into some semblance of being on time.

One week to watch as God is faithful in the little things that are not so little. Like the last minute phone call that got me here in the first place; the Haiti training that doubled as make up training for RFKC; the $250 fee that was waived so that camp cost me $30 in snacks and sunscreen and a couple of hours of crafting decorations.

And, the fact that, out of 41 campers, one of mine was a little girl that I know from school. An eight year old who I loaded onto the bus for a final time expecting never to see again.

Until I got the call for camp and realized that she might be there. Until I sat down with the social worker on Sunday morning and heard the names of my campers. Until she stepped off of the bus and that quiet face slipped into a grin and started pointing out the heights of the trees around us.

Two little eight year olds paired up with two ten year olds to form the Royal Cabin Three.

Imperfect and messy. Last ones in the dining hall. Last ones in the pool. Last ones out of the bathroom. Late to so many things that being "not last" was cause for celebration. Just getting there an event in and of itself.

Pockets that were often emptied of sticky fingered treasures. Apples from the dining hall. Sheep figurines from the table. Scarves and necklaces from dress up.

Worried little eyes always checking on the next meal, eyeing the dishes, mentally calculating to decide if there is going to be enough.

Nightlight on the wall and a flashlight or lantern in bed with each girl to hold back the dark.

But also Royal Family side hugs and arms over shoulders as we walk. Hands in mine and little girls who lean in close during chapel.

Girls who whisper read Bible verses to each other before bed and teach the new one the hand motions to well loved music until she can do them herself, and shy giggles that hide behind me as they ask for more of something in the dining hall or greet one of the teen staff or counselors.

Singing songs as we walk and racing through inflatables. Quiet times in a canoe and carefully building robots out of junk with grandpa as they repeat my hammering instructions back to me. "Gentle at first, and then be a beast."

Smiles and laughter and forgiveness when we explain why we gave that instruction that didn't make any sense. Shoes slipped on feet and hair brushed back from faces.

"I am looking for girls who..."

"I see..."

"Did you hear so and so's words?"

"Can you use your big voice?"

"Use your listening ears."

"Let's honor so and so by..."

"You guys are awesome!"

"Good for you!"

"Way to rock it at...!"

We wrap them in words and careful touch and a dozen notes in their mailboxes the same way that we draped the cabin in green and blue before they came. Coffee filter sheep and verses about the Good Shepherd on paint chip bunting. Fabric streamers and tissue paper flowers.

Relationships that flow as naturally as breathing.

Simple because we've already learned these lessons. Because the one who guides us has already led us beside these waters, into this place where the only thing that we can offer is the consistency of five day camp full of too many new things to count.

Because we may not know the end game, but we do know this week. 

And, when the little one who is moving cities a few hours after we get "home" uses being closer to this place as a comforting point of reference, It's easy to believe that this one week - year after year of this one week - is enough to make a difference.

Easy to believe that our Good Shepherd really loves them just as much as He says He does.