Living Out Loud

Last week I had the privilege of serving as the chaplain for All Saints Junior High Camp.  Yes privilege--it's early in the morning, the sun hasn't gotten to my head yet and it hasn't been five o'clock, so trust me I'm in my right mind.  It was an honor, a privilege and a time to learn about the beauty of living out loud.

Meet Anne--I fell in love with Anne at a soccer game in the fall of 2011 when she sat down beside me and said, "Hi, I'm Anne.  I was born prematurely and have Aspergers.  Do you have any issues?"  (Oh Sweetheart, how much time do you have?)  I need to insert right here that this blog is written with Anne's mother's permission.  I was going to write it anonymously, but I guess that would cancel out the living out loud.

This past spring my eldest son and I were talking and he said, "Mama you know All Saints would be perfect for Anne.  (He loves her too.)  Everyone is accepted, and she would love it.  You'll be the chaplain, Caroline will be a camper, and I'll be a junior counselor; do you think we can convince Mrs. Stevenson?"  I'm not sure how we did--Mrs. Stevenson knows my issues--but we did and Anne came to camp. I prayed a lot; I wanted this to be a good experience for Anne, and I didn't want her to get hurt. And I wanted to earn the trust her mother put into me.   I prayed that God would wrap loving arms around her and protect her.   I don't know what she learned, but here's what I learned from Anne.

The first evening Anne asked her counselor if she could talk to the other girls in her cabin.  She told them she was born prematurely and that because of that she sometimes had problems.  "Sometimes I say things that seem weird or out of place, and sometimes I don't quite understand what's going on," stated Anne, "I don't always understand social situations, but I want to and I'm sorry if I hurt someone's feelings because I never mean to but sometimes I do.  And another thing, I'm terrible at math."  Well, Anne I don't know about the math part, but I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single girl in that cabin that hasn't felt some of the other feelings, but only you were brave enough to admit it.  (I'm also sure a few of them felt that way about math)

That's the way the week started and already I was learning from Anne.  What if we all just laid it out there, exposed our vulnerabilities, admitted we made mistakes but that for the most part we were acting with good intentions?  How could we change the world if we were just honest with ourselves and with others?

The second night I got to sit with Anne.  I tried really hard not to smother her, protect her, shield her but remember I've loved this girl for two years; I convinced her mother to let her for the FIRST time ever come to camp, and I suppose if I'm totally truthful, I didn't fully give her over to God as I'd promised.  Oh me of little faith.  At dinner talk of the camp dance was in full swing--it's a tradition at All Saints, and sometimes boys ask girls to be their dates--it had already started.  Anne says to me, "I don't have to worry about anyone asking me.  No one has ever been interested in me."  Can I just tell you that a piece of my heart dropped off?  I busily searched my mind trying to think of the right thing to say already planning to ask Christopher to make sure he asked her to dance at least once--I was desperately trying to control.   And then Anne said, "I think I'm okay with that.  I won't be forever but right now I'm not really sure how I feel about boys and flirting.  Sometimes I want to but sometimes I worry about it, and maybe I'm too young anyway."  There were three other girls at the tables whose mouths dropped open and I'm pretty sure they were all thinking, "me too", but not one was brave enough to say so.  Life is messy and complicated and confusing; being a teenager is messy and complicated and confusing--what if we all just admitted that?  What if we all just said, "Sometimes I feel one way about it and sometimes I feel another"  What if we didn't feel like we had to have everything all neatly packaged and answered.  What if we allowed ourselves to feel more than one feeling at a time and embraced it?  And what if we let go of trying to control everything even with the best of intentions?

That same night one of the campers dropped his or her fork and everyone started to clap.  Anne addresses the table and says, "Why is everyone clapping?"  A junior counselor answered, "I guess just to embarrass the person; it's kind of a tradition here."  Anne, "Why would you want to embarrass someone for making a mistake?"  Amen Anne--why would we and yet we do that to people all the time; point out their shortcomings publicly and I suppose it's so we don't have to look at our own.  But Anne wasn't finished with that lesson, "If the person is new this year, they may not know that's a tradition and they'll feel bad."

You're right Anne--and how many times do we "welcome" people into community but not fill them in completely?  We leave them to figure out our customs; we leave them to figure out our ways, and do we even ask them if they want to follow them?  Do we ask them what customs they'd like to share with us?  Traditions are wonderful; they help to build a community, but traditions need to be explained and taught if we're going to be an open community welcoming everyone.  And so, thank you Anne, we explained it to everyone.  (For the record, Anne was clapping with everyone else by the end of the week when someone dropped something, but thanks to Anne everyone knew it was in good fun.)

Wednesday morning Anne was late getting up; her counselor  waited for her and brought her to breakfast a few minutes late.  It was easy to do she said because the first thing Anne said in the morning was, "Hannah, I think today may be one of those days for me.  Could you just be patient with me?"  Asking for what we need?  Admitting we may not be in control?  What a novel concept!?!?!  And you know what, because Anne asked for a need to be met and because Hannah met that need with no judgement, Anne only had one of those moments not one of those days.  She bounced right back.

I promised I'd be totally honest in this blog, so I have to talk about Thursday afternoon.  This is what I was dreading, oh me of little faith yet again.  During rest time Anne was continuing to live out loud and I suppose she said something about someone's date and it hurt the girl's feelings or embarrassed her--who knows they're adolescents?  I learned about this incident because Anne went to Hannah and said, "Everyone is mad at me and I don't know what I did.  Can you help me figure it out?"    And Hannah did, and Anne said she was sorry to the other girl.  But more importantly those girls learned about taking responsibility and not walking away from a problem.  Anne addressed it head on, and guess what?  One of the girls apologized to Anne and said, "Maybe we overreacted and we shouldn't have taken sides."  I'm sure you're not amazed by this next part, Anne said to Hannah, "thank you for helping me."  What, a teenager who asks for and accepts constructive criticism and redirection and then thanks the person?!?!?!?!

The youth and staff at All Saints call me Mama Doyle and I absolutely love it.  I can't explain it (maybe Anne can help me figure out my feelings) but it means the world to me.  My heart grows every single time I hear it.  I really wanted Anne to start calling me Mama Doyle; somehow I thought that if she did then that meant she was really a part of the camp, that she was really a part of the community, and to be Anne-honest I thought it would mean she loved me and we'd established a close bond.  So everyday I waited for her to call me Mama Doyle, everyday I hoped and prayed that this would be the day,  and everyday she called me Mrs. Doyle.  On Friday someone asked her why and Anne said, "I've always known her as Mrs. Doyle and it's just more comfortable for me."  Well slap me in the face--I was making it about me, about my needs and my wants.  When I reflect on it now, I wanted to be the one who made camp a success for her and if she called me Mama Doyle at camp (secretly I was hoping she'd continue to call me that when we left camp), then that would be my proof that I was successful.  It was about me.  I wanted to be special, to feel special, to be important.  And I wonder how many times that happens to me and to others?  How many times do our wants and needs get in the way of looking at someone else and their wants and needs?  It's easy to camouflage it--to make it look like it's about someone else.  It's easy to convince ourselves and others that we're only looking out for someone or something else.  But I learned to listen to that small voice that is so incessant, to listen to that urgency--that frantic need and to figure out from where it comes.  Another lesson learned from Anne; be aware, be in touch with your motivations, and be honest with yourself.

The final afternoon I asked Anne about camp--"I loved it Mrs. Doyle.  It was fun; it was hard; it was exciting; it was scary, and I'm coming back."  Yep, tell it like it is, every thought in your mind--you CAN have all those emotions at one time--thank you Anne.  May we all have the confidence to not only live out loud but to allow others to as well.

She had a date to the dance!!!

The sheer joy of living out loud.