First Steps

Two days before the campers showed up for the summer--- almost 2 weeks ago now-- I read this at services for the entire staff. I'm posting it here for posterity. 

I am eight years old and sitting cross-legged on a top bunk at URJ Camp Harlam covered in butterfly printed sheets. Next to my bed is a comically large set of plastic drawers, packed full of neatly folded t-shirts and enough socks that I’ll be ok even if the laundry loses half of them. My parents are probably a couple miles down the road, having dropped me off for my first summer about 10 minutes before.

I am sobbing hysterically.

I am twenty three years old and sitting cross-legged on a single bed at URJ Crane Lake Camp, covered in stripe printed sheets. Next to my bed is a wooden cubby full of sweaters and books and folders and post it notes. My best friend is probably a couple miles down the road, having dropped me off for my first summer about 10 minutes before.

I am sobbing hysterically.

I’m eight years old and sitting at Saturday morning services for the first time at URJ Camp Harlam. I’m singing prayers that sound familiar with people who feel the complete opposite.

I am terrified.

I’m twenty three years old and sitting at Saturday morning services for the first time at URJ Crane Lake Camp. I’m singing prayers that sound familiar with people who feel the complete opposite.

I am terrified.

I think I first heard the story of Nachshon at camp, because isn’t camp the place where we first learn about so many things?

Nachshon, the story goes, was the first Israelite to wade in to the Red Sea as our people fled from Egypt. As the Israelite people stood on the shore, facing this gigantic, unimaginable ocean, Nachshon moved forward. He walked until the water reached his ankles. He walked until the water reached his knees. Until it reached his waist, then his shoulders, then his chest. Nachshon walked forward until the water covered his mouth and his nose. It was only then, we are told, that the sea parted. Only after Nachshon has waded far enough in that he could no longer breathe. After Nachshon had made the first steps, leading the people forward, trusting that things would really be ok, even if he had no reason to believe it besides his own faith and optimism.

Nachshon didn’t know what waited on the other side of the ocean, he just knew that the only way to go was forward. Nachshon didn’t know that the water would part, but he was willing to take a risk. And that trying paid off.

I’m eight years old and sitting on the hill at URJ Camp Harlam that overlooks all of camp. It’s dark and the stars are out, shining with a force that I’ve never experienced so far in my suburban life. I’m wearing a t-shirt I tye-dyed that morning and I have enough friendship bracelets on my wrist that I look like I’m made of embroidery floss.

I am deliriously happy.

I’m twenty three years old and sitting on the porch of my bunk at URJ Crane Lake Camp. It’s dark and the stars are out, and I’ve spent enough time at camp star gazing that I can point out the constellations. I’m wearing a Crane Lake t-shirt, my very first one, and a single friendship bracelet in shades of green and blue and brown.

I’m deliriously happy.

Starting is scary. And I’m a little bit of a wuss. But new can be exciting too. New can be fun. New can be the 8 year old Jordan or the 23 year old Jordan, finding a new place where they feel like they could belong.

In just a couple of days the gates are going to open and this camp is going to be filled with high pitched voices and tiny shoes inexplicably lost on the soccer field. Kids coming from all over, many of whom, like me, have never been here before. Those first few days are going to be scary for them, but I can’t wait to watch this staff welcome them with open arms and open hearts and, I hope, a little bit of respect for the trust and the faith and the courage that it takes to make those first few steps.