Girl's Camp, according to Annelie

As a lot of you know, last week was Girl's Camp. My last year of Girl's Camp. And I'd feel like I was neglecting it if I didn't reminisce a little--especially for how eventful it was!

This year, due to forest fires, we didn't get our 'camping' luxuries of cabins, showers, bathrooms, a huge eating lodge, and a speaker system. We actually had to camp this time. Tents, port-a-potties and all!

I really didn't mind. The place had a zipline! And swings! I rushed through the decorating (as us girls always do, no matter where we are) and made for the zipline. I had a few followers who came along to tell me as soon as I gripped the rope chair that I was going to die. I was the first one there to try the thing. But I was too excited to really worry about that. So I plopped myself down and pushed off.

I laughed out loud as my speed picked up. And it just kept picking up. Eventually I realized this thing had to come to an end. And still I went faster. Finally I spotted a pair of trees directly ahead of me where the cable ended, and I still was a few feet from touching the ground. I smiled nervously. Surely the people who'd made this thing had had people's physical health in mind. Maybe those people watching me up there had a point. Maybe they should speak at my funeral.

Then suddenly something jerked me back. The entire chair went flying into the air towards the cable and I screamed. It then swung back, bouncing backwards until I could touch the ground.
Needless to say, that wasn't the last time I went on it.

Next stop was the swings. It was a huge pole that all eight or so swings swung around. I soon got tired of plain sitting and switched to my belly, super-maning it around in circles until I lost my shoe twice and felt my lunch joining it.

But what happened next seems to be what everyone remembers. First it began sprinkling. Then raining. Then pouring. Then hailing.

And that, my friends, is where girl's camp's version of 'toughing it out' ended. We dug trenches around tents in the middle of the hailstorm to keep them from flooding but some unlucky groups pitched theirs at the bottom of the hill. I think one even caved in, which doesn't surprise me. My friend Sara has welts on her arms from it. Ask her, she'll gladly show you :)

So after all of that excitement, we all gathered into the tiny lodge where we would have our last devotional before packing. At first the leader teaching us went along the lines of our couldn't-be-more-fitting theme "Enjoy to the End." Then she shared the story of Christ walking on the water and Peter trying to do the same to meet him. He succeeded at first, but as soon as he turned his eyes away from the Savior and to the crashing waves, he doubted and began sinking. She pointed out how the Savior caught him and how He can do the same for us when we feel lost and overwhelmed by the trials in our lives, if we only take his hand.
It was a really, really good lesson that I wish I could record better. But what I most remember is when I tried to apply it to myself. I really didn't have many external trials in my life at this point. The only trials I really had were due to my dumb choices and the doubt or confusion that came with them.

So, as I usually do, I got thinking. Peter was awesome! He actually walked on the water for a few minutes before falling. What if it was someone like me? Someone who foolishly leapt off the boat and into the waves because they, for whatever reason, thought they could do it on their own? In other words, what if I brought my trials upon myself? Would the Lord still be as willing to save me?

The lesson went on and as it did, this image formed. There I was, half-drowning in the middle of the sea and wondering what ever possesed me to leave the boat in the first place. I was frightened, confused, lost. How could I have been so stupid?
 And then those familiar sandals came into view. I felt relieved and horrible at the same time. The Savior was walking atop the water towards me. He reached out a hand towards me and I humbly took it, immediatly making a million apologies for whatever I had done. But He cut me off by pulling me into a tight embrace, tears beginning to run down his face.
"Don't ever do that again," He muttered, "No matter how you fall into the water, I don't want you drowning."

***

The rest of camp was at the stake center. We ate more food than should be allowed in one day and did all kinds of fun activities including duct-tape purses, a lip-sync, and splashing each other with water. But, of course, we ended with another devotional and a testimony meeting. It was then that I realized I was one of the big kids. I watched as girl's I'd known since they were twelve come up and testify of truths that showed they were growing up.

And that was only confirmed by 'the box'. If you attened Girl's Camp for the whole six summers in a row, you get 'the box'. Its a pretty, wooden oval thing that no one really knows what to fill with, but its just one of those must-haves. I'm almost afraid to know if anyone snapped pictures while they handed me mine because I'm sure I had a weird look on my face.

Remember the girl on the zipline and losing her shoes on the swings? Yeah, 'the box' was something only the big girls got. I wasn't a big girl! I was short! I still enjoyed a good game of Barbies! I loved dressing up and ham & cheese sandwiches in the summer! I loved kazoos, bubblewrap, and dancing while folding the laundry. I didn't have a job, I knew as more VeggieTale lines than I did celebrities' names, and a lot of those shady jokes that were said in class still flew right over my head. For heaven's sake, I could hardly even drive! This isn't at all how I remembered the tall, pretty girls who I watched get 'the box' when I was little.

But then I guess maybe growing up can come in many ways. I did know a ton more than I did before. I was generally more mature. My testimony had grown and was more solid than I thought was possible for me at this point. I'd gone through experiences both succesfully and unsuccesfully. I'd developed my talents. I'd made new friends. And, thanks to a mother who followed a prompting to send her daughter to EFY, I'd been able to be a part of changing someone's life.

And by the Young Women's symbol engraved on the lid, I could tell that it was those things that made you old enough for some of the things in life, including 'the box.'