my mini revolutionaries.

7 weeks down. 97 to go.

"The same love that motivates us to preach the gospel and meet some basic
needs should also motivate us toward getting behind the needs to their
causes...The questions don't stop with the structures of society that make
victims out of people. The questions continue right down into our lives, into
our own homes, into the ways that we personally participate in and benefit from
the way the structures are set up. It is painful because we might discover that
we are guilty of being a part of an unjust system."

John Perkins, What We Might Discover from A Quiet Revolution

This week, we had a quick lesson on Frederick Douglass, a black man born into slavery who educated himself, helped educate other blacks, drew white's attention to the issues of slavery, and served as a leader in a number of equality-focused movements. I spent a good portion of my academic career studying the civil rights movements in the United States, the political and violent revolutions in Latin America as well as the Holocaust experience. I believe that the revolutionaries and survivors whose stories I have read are people on the fringe--the marginalized. They are the ones who were not supported by their governments, and when they began to stand up for themselves, they were oppressed further before they were ever given a better shot at life. Some never got that chance and were killed in the fight. I realized that the revolutionaries of the past were people who were independent, free-thinkers, creative, defiant, who acknowledged the laws of the land, but followed the laws of their experience. A lot of horrible things happened during these movements, but in the end, a great majority of them brought positive social change.

I realized that the kids I am working with are mini revolutionaries. Right now, they are rebellious teenagers, but given the right motivations, appropriate direction, and productive activities, these kids could change the world for the better. I believe that there are two types of justices in this world. There is one that this country was built on that gives everyone a chance at life, liberty, and happiness. And then there's the justice that allows people with power and influence to go free and people who are minorities without money or education to be lost in the system. Some of my campers have experienced that justice. This justice that says, "Because of the color of your skin or because of the neighborhood you live in, you don't deserve the same chance as the rest of us." It's the justice that allows people I know personally to do the same activities as some of my campers and never reap the consequences of their choices while my campers are sent to spend nearly a year in the woods to face their consequences.

I am not saying that my campers do not need to be at this camp. They need to learn how to take responsibility for their actions. They need to learn how to successfully engage in our culture. They need to be there. I am simply making an observation that a lot of them have had an unfair shot at life--a lot of them are and were victims of their own environment, victims of the system. On the other hand, it is this system that is giving them a second chance at life. I just wonder sometimes why these kids have to spend a year in the woods and my peers were able to clear their records at the right price.

The question now is how can I help mold these rebels into the revolutionaries they were born to be? By "revolutionary" - I am not referring to the overturning of government. I am more focused on the fact that these kids are creative and thoughtful enough to make positive social changes in our country. They fight for what they believe in, but right now, their belief system is focused on negative activities. What if they fought for equal rights, for education, for life?

At one point in our discussion, I agreed with a point made by my co-counselor, and a camper turned to me and said, "Man, shut up. You don't know what we've been through." I turned to him and said, "You're right. I don't know. I'll never know what it's like to be in your shoes. But I do understand white privilege. I understand that I have been given a different opportunity at life than you. I've dedicated my time in college to learning about the ways our society works and how it has dealt you a different hand than me, and I have dedicated the rest of my life to making sure I am doing all that I can to make sure as many people as possible get the chances that I've had in my life. And I am dedicated to understanding you."

my lighthouse came to visit.

6 weeks down. 98 to go.

I decided two days ago that I like my job. I wrote this to a friend yesterday evening, but upon more consideration, I think it's better to say this: I convinced myself two days ago that I like my job.

I've never chosen to do something that I'm not a "natural" at. In everything I've done, I'm usually very good at it--otherwise, I don't do it for very long. I am, hands down, not a natural at this job. But no one is. It takes about a year to be good at this job. As my supervisors have said, even the very best at this job still experience the worst moments of this job. I can do everything I should, and the kids will still curse me out, they will still run out of bounds, they will still have their problems. What makes you good at this job is how you handle yourself and their problems in the same moment.

All of this said, at the end of every day, I feel like I accomplished something. 12 kids were fed three meals, took showers, and didn't die. Some days, they actually go to class, play a game, build something. Those are great days.

The challenge is this: identifying the positives of each day and making the positives overcome the negatives of the day.

The positives: My kids are hilarious. They crack me up multiple times throughout the day. They surprise me. They are clever--they come up with ideas that I could never think of on my own. They are talented artists, musicians, creators. I live in the outdoors--I see the sun rise and set each day. I am outside ALL DAY LONG in mostly beautiful weather (we shall not discuss the torment of winter at nights or what will be come summer time with yellow flies :-/). I spend very little money and eat way too much food. I have co-workers that encourage me and know the ins and outs of what I'm experiencing. I get to see kids succeed at overcoming their triggers and obstacles every single day.

For now, these are much more valuable to me, and they overcome all that is negative with this job. All that is difficult. All that is draining. My goal is to make this last as long as possible--a year at least, hopefully more. I do not want to look back 20 years from now and wish I would have stayed longer than I did.

I write all this from a coffee shop in Wilmington, NC. Sitting across from me is my mom. She came to visit me this weekend. It is so good to have her here--if only for a little while. My mom is my lighthouse. The bright light that shows me where the ground is, that warns me when I'm headed towards some place I don't want to go. A solid structure that withstands all of my storms, that is still standing when I feel like everything else has crumbled. I am so glad she came. She reminds me that I can do this, even when I know deep down she wishes I were still in Texas.

this is love.

5 weeks down. 99 to go.

This week was my first full week on the job. 24 hours a day. 5 days. I spent every evening in the woods, and I survived. A noteworthy accomplishment, I'd say.

As Valentine's Day is upon us, I've decided to spend this weekend loving on myself, so I went to Raleigh and got a hotel room. Tonight, I bought myself sushi and met up with a friend. A good evening. Tomorrow, I'll go to church and play a game of Ultimate before heading back. Life is good.

The two days a week that I have off are essential to my survival. For five days, all I can care about is my campers. For two days, I can care about me. This weekend I need this time in a big way.

Two of my campers are no longer in my group now. One graduated. He completed his time at camp and can now move on with his life--back home, back in school. I won't ever get to know how he does unless his family worker updates me. In this case, no news is good news. I'm proud of him and hope he makes good choices for his life.

The other has been transfered to a mental health hospital. My heart shattered as I left his hospital room on Friday evening. After spending all day with him and two other campers at the hospital waiting for his papers to come in from the magistrate, I couldn't bear the thought of never knowing how he is. He promised he'd write me. I hope he does. Over the past month, I've watched him struggle with and overcome some demons inside of him that have kept him from progressing at camp. I've seen a lively, talented, hilarious young man crumble underneath the pressures of his past that he's holding captive within. No child should suffer as many of my kids suffer. No child should be taken from one hospital to another in shackles without their family to support them. I left him with a ball and a note that contained a list of things that I felt made him great. He left me with a hole in my heart longing for his healing and his freedom.

Earlier today, I was talking to my mom, and she helped me to summarize how I feel about my job. She said she heard 4 main things each time she spoke with me:

1. I think that the work I'm doing now is work worth doing.

2. I know deep down that this is exactly where I should be.

3. I am horrified at what I experience each day.

4. I wonder how the heck I ended up here and what the heck I'm doing.

She pretty much nailed it. As I walked out of the hospital with the other two campers, I broke out into tears. This is love. Every single day, I wake up, and I fight for these kids. Regardless of how horrifying it can be, I know it's worth it. Right now, they don't recognize it, and some days, neither do I, but each day I wake up, and I hope that this day is going to be better than yesterday. I commit to doing whatever it takes to meet the needs of my campers. I fight for them. And now, I have two less campers to fight for. I can only hope that they will fight for themselves.

I realized that the only way I can effectively fight for them is if I protect ME on my time-off. By ME, I mean, protecting and pursuing the things that have remained consistent in my life and that bring me happiness, peace, and hope. Thus, happy valentine's weekend to me.

And to you, too. Your encouragement helps me to protect ME. I couldn't do this without you.

love song.

4 weeks down. 100 to go.

1 week at a time. 1 day at a time. 1 hour at a time. 1 meal at a time. 15 minutes at a time.

This is my key to survival. Every day is a new day with these kids. They are unpredictable in their moods, behaviors, and feelings.

I spent my first night alone in the woods with my campers this week. 9 out of 12 campers left to go home for the weekend leaving me with 3 campers and a camper that was switched to my group for the weekend.

Lessons learned:

I am a failure with fire.
- I can't build a fire. I need 14 year olds to help me.
- I can clean out a potbelly, but I leave the ashes in a bucket smoldering in the tent only to come back to their tent later that afternoon to find it full of smoke.
- I burn myself constantly with my lighter.
- Kerosene is my worst enemy.

I find my kids far too amusing for their own good.
- My laughing at their behavior does not help them alter their behavior. It encourages it.
- This can be illustrated by the 90 minutes I spent following a camper who decided to hug every tree down the trails and whisper, "It's okay buddy. I love you." My laughing at this situation did not help him move on to more appropriate and timely behaviors.

I am a scaredy cat.
- Sleeping in the woods is tough. Especially when it rains. I woke up every 30 minutes thinking a camper was in my tent, that a branch had fallen through the top tarp, that I was suffocating in my mummy sleeping bag.

Never interrupt the sleep of a teenage boy.
- Middle of the night huddles are awful. Night Watch suspected that my campers had stolen a flashlight and broken into the education building at 4 am two nights ago. I have my own opinion of whether or not they did such a thing. Regardless, teenage boys being woken up in the middle of the night to the accusations of being thieves is not a pretty sight. I hope I never see that again.

All in all, I really like my campers. They are hilarious. I think highly of so many of them--I hope they give me a chance to tell them this.

I went to church today, and the pastor was talking about how important it is for us to know what OUR will for our lives is, so we don't project it on to God's will for our lives. I think if I were to be God, I would have matched me up with a brilliant and strong man that would want to go on adventures with me all over the world and then settle down in a cozy home close to my family. God's will for my life is obviously different at this point in time, and I continue to be amazed by what God is doing and has done. I am living an adventure.

I'll end this with the lyrics to a song we sang this morning that hit home with me:

Where can I go, where can I run
From you, you're everywhere
You know all my thoughts
You see all my ways
And still, you come to me

From heaven above, to earth down below
Your love, rains down on me
You know where I've been
You see through my skin
And still, you come to me

You walk on waves
You run with clouds
You paint the sky for me to see
Your majesty, your majesty is why I sing

This is a love song to you.

My life is a love song to you.