A few months ago, someone gave me their fortune cookie. Now, usually when I receive a fortune cookie, I laugh at the message about all the money I’m (not) going to make in the next week, all the lovers that are (not) going to flock to me in the near future, or all the opportunities for success that I (may or may not) receive. But for some reason, this fortune I received at the start of my crazy whirlwind of a summer was actually a substantial one.
You will soon witness a miracle.
Hmm. A miracle…interesting. Was I going to win the lottery? Was Jesus going to descend from heaven right onto my doorstep? Was I going to meet Harry Styles (hey, a girl can dream)? Well, just as I have done with all the other fortunes, I just shrugged it off and tossed it aside. And then I began my internship.
I worked for a ministry down Highway 69 in the small town of Greensboro, Alabama—a camp called Sawyerville Day Camp. I’ve been a counselor there for a good many sessions, but this summer was the first opportunity I had for a bigger leadership position. The directors put me in the position of a coordinator for the 9-11-year-old campers, almost 100 of which would come through each session. These kids come from all different backgrounds; they ride the bus from all different towns; they come with all different energy levels. And they are the outlet through which I see the Lord most in this entire world. Must be some pretty cool kids, huh? It has been a summer filled with memories (and miracles) I could write multiple books about, but for now I’m going to stick to one story, a story about one of the local staff members that volunteered the entire summer for my camp. For this article’s purpose, let’s just call him D.
So, at the beginning of the summer, D came into our new staff meetings completely silent, with nothing much to say and the desire to shrink backwards into corners whenever possible. He went about the first session with us not doing much in his small group besides carrying the kids’ bags around and keeping his kids somewhat contained. He did a substantial amount of work, but I could tell there just wasn’t much there that had him super connected to the camp and the kids he was working for. The camp requires long, hard hours of hard work; it demands your full attention and way more than just two eyes to watch all of your campers at once. D was a former camper who wasn’t quite sure how to be on the other side of things yet.
The next session, he completely came out of his shell (slowly but surely, of course). He took charge and helped with disciplining his campers in the most loving way, while teaching his co-counselors how to be a leader in the camp environment. The more he opened up, the greater we got to see his hilarious personality and all the gifts he could bring to the table.
Finally, during the last session of camp, I found out a little secret about D. All summer he had told me that he was allergic to the chlorine in the pool. I didn’t think anything of it; we required all the counselors to swim with their kids, but if someone had a medical issue with the pool, I just let them hang out in the gym. I mentioned his allergy to his sister, who immediately started laughing at me, because D had no allergies whatsoever. He was just trying to get by unnoticed. Of course, being in charge, I went straight up to D and confronted him about it, then took him to the gym where we kept all our supplies and let him pick out a swimsuit that he would be wearing in the pool for the next week. When pool time came around, I was supervising and watching everyone in the pool. We all encouraged D to get in and joked with him about how he had lied to us all summer, but when it finally came time for the pool, I found out that he wasn’t just being lazy—he was genuinely terrified of getting in the water. He told me he hadn’t been in the pool since about 6 years ago. I talked to him and tried to give him the courage to get in, but he still wasn’t having it. We walked out onto the pool deck and all of his campers’ eyes just lit up and their smiles got so big when they saw D was going to swim with them—they were the ones to encourage him to get in eventually. He crept down the stairs slowly, holding on to the rail for dear life, terrified he was going to drown (even though he was so tall the water barely even went up to his chest). His kids swam all around him, splashing him, jumping on him, completely freaking him out. It was awesome. I was witnessing a 15-year-old boy facing his fears of the deep and the unknown because of his love for the kids. I was witnessing pure trust. I was witnessing, truly, a miracle.
D grew so much this summer and completely transformed into the biggest leader within both the camp and the community he lives in. It was the biggest honor getting to work in the scorching Greensboro heat—the place that helps people grow substantially and get outside of their comfort zones.
As I was cleaning up my room at the end of the summer, I found the fortune under a bunch of papers on my bedside table. You will soon witness a miracle. I laughed a little, because one miracle was all that I was promised by that little slip of paper, but I truly witnessed millions. I tucked it in my Bible, placing it on my favorite verse that had so greatly helped me through the summer, thinking of D and all my children that shaped me into a leader and helped me grow so much in my faith.
“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”
D is a light in this world. I am a light in this world. We are the lights of the world, and the darkness cannot overcome us.
