A Summer Marked by Change
looking back to move forward
Back in June, I returned to one of my favorite places.
From being a camper in elementary school to summer staff in college, Camp Wapo was one of the most formative places for my faith and how I show up in the world today.
I spent a few hours with their 2024 Summer Staff speaking about anticipating surprise in their summer1, discerning God’s calling, and mitigating burnout amidst a full schedule.
It was a blast.
After my sessions were over, I walked around the grounds to see all that had changed — and simultaneously be hit with a wave of nostalgia by what remained the same.
When I arrived at the main beach area, the wooden benches around the campfire still wobbled when I sat down. I looked up at a familiar blue sky through the towering tree tops and my gaze over the water landed on the giant raft I had jumped off hundreds of times in my childhood.
It was as if I had been transported back in time but all the moments beyond this place that shaped me got to come too.
I have sat at those benches as a little girl giggling with her friends, a teenager discovering Jesus in a new way, and a young adult equally confident and naive about life.
And there I was, a (still young) adult who went on to study theology and leadership, who moved across the country, who has overcome fears and insecurities … and still giggles with friends, discovers Jesus’ grace, and has a balanced confidence and naïveté about life.
It’s a strange and beautiful thing to return to a place each time the same but different version of yourself; to be keenly aware of all the ways you have grown yet still feel connected to who you once were.
In that moment, I felt a deep gratitude that change exists in this world.
I was grateful for the rolodex2 of experiences that shaped the woman sitting on those wobbly benches.
Change is often a catalyst launching us into something new. It is through change that we become who we are today.
When I was in college, I soaked up each summer working at that camp. I think I would have given anything to bottle it up and relive over and over again. But as I sat under those trees, I was relieved that I didn’t get my way.3
Our lives are marked by change. Change that we choose, change that we don’t, and change we can see coming miles away yet are somehow unprepared for.
When we have moments like this one, sitting on the familiar wobbly benches, deeply aware of who we once were and who we’ve become, eerily the same yet without a doubt different — these are moments to return to.
The summer that followed that visit back in June was marked by change — choosing to get a puppy, organizational shifts at my job, and moving into my own apartment.
As I navigate each of these, there have been (and will continue to be) moments where I want to go back to how things were before - before the early mornings with a rambunctious pup, before the learning curve of new job responsibilities, and before the change of pace that comes with living alone for the first time.
But when I take a moment to pause and look at the bigger picture, I can acknowledge that I don’t actually want to go back to life before my puppy, Tabor. I can refocus on how the changes in my full-time job are actually something I’m excited for.
Pausing helps me hold the tension between the peace in choosing Minnesota and wishing some of my best friends lived a few minutes not timezones away.
This summer I continually returned to the feeling of sitting on those benches around the campfire ring.
I recalled the familiar sights that were a backdrop for my childhood and the paired feeling of gratitude considering all the moments beyond that place which required me to choose something unfamiliar.
Looking back reframes how I choose to move forward. It reminds me that I’ve navigated change, gone outside my comfort zone, and learned new things before.
When I have that reminder at the forefront, it encourages me to be more patient through the changing circumstances and have an eager anticipation for what will be on the other side.
As we make our way into the changing season with falling leaves and pumpkin flavored everything, perhaps you too are reflecting on a summer marked by change.
Here are some questions that have helped me:
What am I leaving behind? How do I feel about it?
How am I showing up to these changes that is different or similar than past experiences?
When do I feel most authentically myself? What about that is present or missing from my current day-to-day?
not that bottling up an experience to relive over and over again is actually a viable option…