CLINGING TO THE VINE

Recently most of our staff went to a conference for camping people (CCCA) where we share ideas, go to seminars and a bunch of other stuff.  At one of the general sessions, a Shamineau favorite, Kirsten King, was speaking.  As her story unfolded, we realized it took place at camp... our camp, Shamineau.  It was so encouraging so see a great example of how the world can be changed from one kid's camp experience.  Below is the full story in Kirsten's words.

I was 9 years old and heading to camp. I went with a girl named Jane, the daughter of some friends of my parents. (None of whom I had ever met.) I was nervous to go. My mom assured me that I would be fine; “Your older sister will be there at the camp, and Jane will be in your cabin. She’s very friendly.”

Mom was right. Jane was very friendly. In fact, as soon as we walked through the door of the cabin, she was able to make friends with all the other girls in it. As I look back now, I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t have wanted to be with the girl who couldn’t stop crying either. I was homesick. I missed my parents and I didn’t think I’d ever see my sister who was in a cabin on the “whole other side” of camp.

I cried on my way to Chapel. I clutched my Bible in one hand and a pile of Kleenex in the other. I sat on a bench next to my cabin mates. Jane was laughing and having fun. I saw my sister from a distance. She saw me, then quickly turned away. She was tired of everyone asking her if it was her sister that was crying all the time. After chapel I ran to my sister and asked her how she could not cry when we’re singing How Great Thou Art, our dad’s favorite hymn. She rolled her eyes and said, “Dad’s favorite hymn is, Surely Goodness and Mercy,” I cried more because I barely knew my parents.

I talked with my counselors, I went to the nurse. They gave me some remedies to try. Nothing worked. Until… one night I heard our camp speaker talking about the importance of clinging to Jesus like branches cling to a vine. I took out my orange marker and underlined the verses. I thought I maybe should stop at one, but they all were so meaningful. So with an orange marker in a scrawny hand that had been clutching Kleenex for days, I made a mark in my Bible while it made a mark on my heart.

I knew Jesus already, I wanted to be sure. After that chapel I talked with my counselor who assured me what I knew to be true…that while I might not always be near my parents, and while I might not always be able to find consolation in those around me, there was one who would never leave me nor forsake me. My counselor wrote this with purple marker in the back of my Bible assuring me that my name was written in the Book of Life.

Many years later, I was asked to speak at a conference full of Camp Directors and Staff members. I was preparing my messages with my grown up Bible beside me and I stopped. I closed my eyes and felt the truth of God’s Word like I was again nine years old. I hurried to the basement and found my old white Bible with a gold zipper on a bookshelf and knew as I opened to John 15 I would find an unsteady underline in bold orange made by a timid girl who still was desperately clinging to the True Vine who promised to never leave nor forsake her and would provide all she needed to bear fruit. And I again was grateful for the lessons I learned at camp.