The Best Week of My Life

Many years ago, I was counselor to a camper named Sarah. She had just finished third grade, and she was a little sponge soaking up every experience. After the Bible stories at Kids’ Club, she would want to know the whole context of the episode from the Bible. She would literally sit and listen as long as I would talk.

Fast forward to last summer, 2018. As I prepared to go to camp, I spent some time praying for some of my many campers from years past. Some of them you just keep in your heart forever. Well, camp director Melinda asked if I could give a couple of young counselors a ride to camp – I said sure. After just a few minutes in the car together with these college girls, I recognized Sarah, and she recognized me!

“Ms. Debbie! I can’t believe it’s you!”
“I can’t believe it’s you, Sarah! And I can’t believe you remember me! Do you know I was praying for you this morning???”

Thus, we were reunited and I found out more about Sarah and her sister. Their mom, an immigrant from the Congo, had been a part of Open Arms, our church’s ministry to battered women and their children. Sarah and her sister Christine had been able to be campers for two summers, and as soon as they were old enough, they volunteered to be teen helpers and then counselors at camp – very admirable.

With the Royal Father, there are no coincidences. I soon realized that Sarah was in need of me as a friend and mentor. She needed someone to teach her to drive last summer. She needed some help getting her paperwork done to enter Texas A&M University, and she ended up needing me to drive her to College Station and move her into the dorm in August.

During this school year, we have stayed in touch and I help her out when she needs it. I have spent time with her and listened to her tell of the difficulties she, her sister, and her mom have endured. She tells me, “Ms. Debbie, I don’t have anyone I can talk to like you.” It is a privilege for me to be her counselor still.

On July 4, this past week, Sarah joined my family at a little swim party. She sat in the passenger seat next to me as I drove her home. I told her how I had to pack for camp, as I was going to be the camp Scribe this week. As she has done often, she lamented that she was not able to be a counselor at Royal Family Kids’ Camp this summer because she had to take summer classes.

“Next summer, I’m going to find a way to be a counselor again. I miss going to camp so much,” she said quietly. We were silent for a few minutes. I wondered to myself that she felt so strongly about camp, so I just asked the question:
“Sarah, what is it about camp that means so much to you? Is it the kids, or is it just so fun to you that you hate to miss it, or what?” I glanced sideways at her in the car, and she was looking down at her lap.

“Those two years I was a camper were the best two weeks of my life,” was her quiet reply.