It’s a couple of days past the Fourth of July… weird. It isn’t a rumor that it is only an American Holiday. J Yesterday we drove eight hours back to our home base after finishing the first camp of this summer. It was one of the hardest and most challenging weeks of my life. Today is our day of regeneration and rest. It feels like Sunday. I am sipping my homemade soy latte and looking out over the Polish countryside from Dan and Laura’s balcony. Chris Tomlin’s voice graces my ears with his passionate worship. Oh I wish that Dan and Laura were home right now so we could debrief the emotions of this past week. But I am being weaned from the normal luxuries of running to friends and family during my neediest moments. My Jesus is too jealous of my heart to let me surround myself in the fluff of human comfort. It is a blessing, though, when I do have a heart to heart with someone beautiful. Greg brought our team out to lunch yesterday and we were able to share our debriefing thoughts together over pierogis. Nathan washed our feet last night. What a send off… there is still much work to be done this summer in Poland. Lovely Jess and I were able to hug each other this morning as we shared our highs and lows. This is where I am. And The Beautiful One is here with me. I open up Streams in the Desert… “Since God knows what niche we are to fill, let us trust Him to shape us to it. And since He knows what work we are to do, let us trust Him to grind us so we will be properly prepared.” (pg. 264) I think I needed those words more than a thousand dollars right now.
Camp brought struggles of leadership. I was put in charge of our intern team as we headed off to Camp Ostróda, where we met their own separate American team. Then, on top of these different groups, there was the Polish church leadership. It was difficult to learn how I can serve my team and the other leaders, as well as step up as the person in charge. If everybody is afraid of stepping on toes, then nothing happens. Yet the wonderful part of Polish culture is the importance placed on relationships. That truly was my number one purpose for being there: Relationships. Marioush (I’m sure I spelled that wrong), the pastor, challenged me by his attitude and actions. He really wanted kids to feel loved, he wanted us to connect with kids, and he wanted the youth group to grow. He honestly didn’t care if the evening program was messy with technical errors, if it was 20 minutes late, and if there was an afternoon game or not. This greatly contradicts our American, perfectionist mentality. Us interns were in charge of the evening programs. We struggled to make them “perfect” in our eyes. Yet the truth that hit me mid-week was that we were not having an American Camp in Poland. We were having a Polish Camp in Poland. And during this camp we happened to be teaching English and Volleyball. So, instead of trying to fight against the culture, the beauty was found in embracing it.
Everyday I hit a breaking point. I had nothing left to give. I would honestly hit a wall and go to my room longing, and pleading with my daddy to give me a hug. I would pray, “God, why am I here? Who do you have me to meet? What do you have me to do? Please help me. Please give me a hug.” And every time I asked for a hug, He gave me one. And He helped me to my feet, and He gave me the strength to love on some more girls. After my daily five-minute breakdown, I would leave my room, and usually run into a beautiful girl who wanted to hang out.
Ada turned 13 the second day of camp. She spoke zero English and our entire relationship revolved around “fútbol”(that is the Spanish way to spell it), beat boxing, dancing to “Pharaoh, Pharaoh”, punching the air, and me learning to not repeat the words she would try to teach me because they were all Polish cuss words. She told Jess at the beginning of the week that she thought the stories of God were all lies. She had four older brothers, and was the biggest tomboy I have ever met. You could see the hardness built up inside of her. Her eyes were longing for attention and deep love. She would sit on the edge of the chapel during evening programs. Every time I picked her up from her seat and dragged her to the center, she would giggle and I knew she needed the love of attention. Every time she would try to wrestle with me as I tried to go to sleep, I knew she needed a constant friend. Every time I would chase her around camp trying to get her to come to volleyball, I knew she needed deep pursuit. Every time she would teach me a Polish cuss word, and in my naivety, I would repeat it, I knew that she needed a teacher. Every time she would ask me to play fútbol, I knew she needed God. I would try to hug her lots and give her the gift of touch. At the end of the week, Ada cried (I would never have expected this). She didn’t want to say goodbye. She asked me for my phone number. I laugh because I don’t know how in the world I held a conversation with her when I was face to face, let alone over a long distance phone call. However, God in His fatherly love, kept me going to show Ada that He wanted her. I don’t know if she accepted Christ, but she knows that God’s story brings me more excitement and joy than winning the toughest soccer game. Maybe that was all I was there to say. And I can leave because I know that God won’t stop there. She means more to Him than life itself and that’s why He sent His Son.
Ada, a different one, walked slowly away from the chapel one night after the message. It was one of those walks you could recognize from a million miles away… she needed to talk. As I sat down with her, she began to share the deep hurt inside from her dad. He left their family years ago, and yet her hatred for him was stronger than ever. God put me in her path that night to tell her that God is stronger than the bonds of hatred, and He can help her. I told Ada that she was beautiful in God’s eyes, and that when she walked into a room, she graced everyone with her beauty. I told her that she is strong, and that God wants her and loves her so much. At the end of the week, she wrote me a note and gave me a gift. She said, “Thank you for all the time we spent together. Thank you for games and stories and many other things. Because of you I really met Jesus and you told me the truth…I’m beautiful in God’s eyes… Now I know that Jesus is really my best friend…” There are so many more stories of girls I got to talk with, pray to accept Christ with, and love on this past week, yet these two girls stood out to me. If these are the only people I can hug and cry with in Poland, that is enough. Yet I am convinced that there are more girls out there that don’t know how beautiful they are. I am certain that there are more girls who don’t know that God is for them and not against them. I think there are more girls who don’t receive enough hugs. I believe there are more girls who long for the healing touch of their father. And that is why I am here this summer.
To finish, I will go back to the initial Streams in the Desert devotional. God is so faithful to teach me my niche too. He is my God as well, and He wants me to be the Kaylanne He made me to be! He is so enthralled by me, and He loves my deepest desires. He wants to push me, and grind me so that He can shine through me. I am reminded of a verse from Second Corinthians, “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for MY POWER is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that CHRIST’S POWER MAY REST ON ME” (12:9). The power that kept me going this week was Christ’s. Because I couldn’t give any more, Christ gave more. I am a testimony to His deep love for Poland.
I can’t wait for the future hugs God is going to give me. He is what keeps me going, and He brings me more joy than I have ever known before. And now, God I pray that You would show my heart Your deep love for Nowy Tomysl. Because that is where we are going next!
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