A slow wake this morning felt wonderful. I slumbered amongst the covers in between prayers and sleep until breakfast.
I have been praying all morning. for the staff, for the campers, for myself, for her parents. prayer.
Once I got up, the chaos of a meal consumed me-as it always does.
I let myself go in the overwhelming stimulation of it all, and paid attention to everything that I could care less about; i felt myself losing my grip on inhibition. What was going on? Why was I acting so weird?
Then, in about a second flat my friend came rushing into the dining hall and after making eye contact i knew something was wrong. Instantly I asked what I could do. I knew those eyes, that look, that posture of scanning the room.
I alerted the right people of the situation, and ran like crazy to the right location. praying for her. praying for the camper.
As I was running, I realized that this would be the day out of any day of summer that Satan would try and break us down in some way. So I prayed for protection and strength and courage to face failure and rejection and in return-love.
While in the room it was tough as a human being and nurse to know what to do I just held her hand and talked to her while she was battling her own demons the paramedics came and took information left and a few went to the hospital as they alwways do while the rest of us try to regroup and recover. that was that-the morning went on-just like that.
It is always weird to keep on going after something that traumatic happens because sometimes all one can do is sit and breath. sit. breathe.


One way that I sit and breathe is through worship of my Creator, God. One of my favorite and richest forms of worship is through music. Being at camp it is so easy to take part in worship through music-every morning and evening.
Specifically this morning, I was looking forward to siting and breathing. I felt as if I needed it more than anything in the world. So when the staff devotional walked throughout the dining hall in a shadow of a person, my inner being waiting to just fall into the arms of my Creator to sustain me, restore me, to just hold me. As I walked through the dining hall, I saw tears rolling down people's faces, emotions brimming over, staff members being pushed to the breaking point.
today of all days, Satan will try and attack.
"Fuck you Satan," is what my brain said. So I pray for her. For her family. the ones affected. i p r a y.


I walk down the steps to the ampitheatre for the first and last set of worship outside with a dear friend, coffee in hand, feeling my soul starting to brim over.
Then I see the girls carrying their friend, and my heart sinks. I cannot worship today. my hopes of finding peace today have been dashed. I was going to ice an ankle instead of sing.

Something changes though...a seed of hope is planted in my head. a rope is thrown to me from my Creator.
I heard the feelings and wrapping of arms around me, stepping onto the deck with the girls. Said the most easily, God reminded me that I was here for the campers, not myself-first and foremost. He reminded me that I did not need to be in worship through music, to worship him. God reminded me that even though I am not able to sit and breathe, He will still strengthen me.
H E W I L L S T R E N G T H E N M E. and I believe it this time.

"That's okay with me," I reminisce to myself as I smile at the girls and ask, "What seems to be the problem ladies?"