Summer Camp

When I was a kid, I went to summer camp every year. For me, camp began in 5th grade with Western Riding camp. It was really just church camp where the 5th graders got to ride the horses more than the other kids. They even so generously allowed us to do some of the chores for the horses. The next year brought Adventure Camp. The same church camp, but this time we slept in teepees instead of caring for horses. Our poor counselors had quite a job. As I know now, the counselors at this small Methodist church camp in Kansas were just pastors and leaders from churches around the state. They were no experts in horses, cooking over an open fire, or living with teenagers. What's best is that they were all volunteers. These must have been truly amazing people.

All beside the point. I went to camp for years. By the time I reached high school, my camps had multiplied and filled many weeks of my summer. But every time without fail, the night before I left for camp I did not want to go. I felt convinced that I wouldn't make any friends.

I imagine my mother found this laughable, but she humored me generously (one of the many jobs of a mother, I suppose). She reminded me that I always made friends at camp, and not to worry. And although I usually embarked with a belly full of butterflies, I always made it.

At the end of the first day, I was wondering what I had gotten myself into. These are the people I'm supposed to be friends with? I don't think I'm going to have any fun. Those butterflies remained in my belly Monday night as I'd lay in my bunk watching the strange shadows of the dark cabin.

By the end of the week, I had made lifelong friends. I felt so sad that I lived far away from these dear friends of mine. We took group pictures, we exchanged addresses. We sang tearful songs at the talent show the on the last night. We hugged our good-byes. Some people cried. I mean, not everybody.

Summer camp friends were close. Within one week, you shared something new together. You leared a lot about them. You prayed together, and asked each other challenging questions. You could create yourself, because these people had no knowledge of your past.

Expat life is very much like summer camp.

We all live far away from home, with no existing support group. A horse stepped on my foot at horse camp - you would not believe how much that hurt. I mean, those guys are heavy. I cried. And everyone at horse camp saw me cry. Living in China can be really hard, and no one has their mom nearby or their best friend for help. You need friends fast - luckily, everyone else needs friends fast, too. They're happy to oblige.

The community is very welcoming. People are quick to offer help. And friendships become close quickly - especially those first real friendships. I'll stay in touch with the group of gals I got to know in the old neighborhood. But before the move here, I got that same pre-camp feeling in my gut. I don't think I'm going to make any friends in Puxi.

Mom was right. S-- and I already hold full dance cards for this week. I love this lifestyle.

At the same time, I must write the postscript. My mother left today, after 2 weeks. It was so hard to see her leave, and know that our family will not be together again for another 3 months. That's too long for two little girls, and it breaks my heart. A close friend in the states is struggling right now, and it makes us crazy that we can't be nearby to offer support.

Overall, I love this life. This has been a great year. But sometimes, I feel like choosing adventure over family and close friends may have been the wrong choice.