In the beginning, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. She was like an elusive hummingbird, beautiful, free, flitting around me with ecstasy. But there was something about her that caught my eye that first night of camp. I remember thinking, I hope she’s my counselor.
And there I was just a few days later, the rough wood of the picnic table and bench pressing against my jeans, sitting with my new small group and my radiant dream counselor. Her name was Sarah, and I loved how the name slid off my tongue when I spoke it. Our small group was all girls; one seventh grader, four eighth graders, and me, the ninth grader. By then, we were as close as sisters.
I listened as Sarah read the passage on forgiveness from the Bible, John 18-21, and rolled my sticky chocolate pretzel M&M’s in my color-stained hand. The rustling redwood trees and running water of the creek drew together, forming a soothing bubble around us.
As we discussed grace and forgiveness, I finally realized what drew me to her. She was passionate. I could see it flowing through her, in her sparkling jade eyes, in her constant smile, and in her eagerness to share or listen. Sarah didn’t just listen, she understood. A junior in college, caring about my challenges? It was a wonderful feeling.
“I just love that—how we’re completely forgiven. Don’t you guys just love that?” she enthused.
I do, I do love that! Why does this week have to end?
Bubbling with joy, Sarah expressed her feelings of awe and gratitude. Her bliss, her pure happiness, was contagious. I relished the taste of sweet forgiveness, sweeter than the chocolate melting on my tongue.
I carried that sweetness, that love, inside of me throughout the rest of the camp week. Too soon, the final night was upon us.
All the youth and counselors from the junior high and high school programs gathered together in the youth room for worship. The lights dimmed, save for the beams enveloping the makeshift stage. I watched the quartet of counselors on stage, playing and singing their hearts out. My gaze shifted over to Sarah, who was rocking contentedly in her seat, her lips forming words, the lyrics on the screen, but so much more.
She is real, I thought, and the world needs more real people. I want to be real, too.
As the last song began, I reflected on all my past mistakes and failures. Sarah had encouraged me and prayed for me, restoring peace and confidence in my heart.
People started to stand, one by one, as the music stirred inside of them. Soon we were all one mass of people, praising the Creator of heaven and earth. Shivers coursed through my body as our voices rose in unison, building the bridge of the song.
“I may be weak...”
A song of victory, that’s what it was. I was full, thankful. I could feel God’s Presence, a reassuring blanket settled over me.
“But Your Spirit’s strong in me...”
I cried out, overwhelmed in reverence. Sarah swayed, as if one with the music. Her eyes fluttered open, and a smile washed over her face as she gazed up. The music swelled with intensity.
“My flesh may fail...”
She lifted her hands up in awe, offering herself. She worshipped selflessly, and I admired her even more then.
“My God You never will...”
As the last note echoed, pure and haunting, I locked the night, the whole week, safely in my memory. I dreaded the bittersweet good-bye that I would be forced to face later that night.
Good-bye, Sarah. Good-bye to the blessed woman who changed me completely. I may never see her again in this life.
When I look back, I am grateful that I was given the strength and courage to rekindle the fire in my soul. Before meeting Sarah this past summer, I was questioning a lot of things—my self-worth, my confidence, my relationships, and my ability to succeed in high school.
I took home so many life lessons, but I think the one I treasure the most was cultivated simply from my time spent with Sarah and observing her. She taught me, likely unintentionally, that I don’t need to fear anything or anyone; I don’t need to hide inside of myself. Sarah was the real deal; she didn’t try to sugarcoat herself and create an illusion of her personality, no, she came as she was, with all her mistakes and flaws, and that is extremely rare. I have struggled with surrender my whole life, and I still do, but Sarah showed me the relief, the peace, the joy that is crystallized when we let go and just trust. That’s what faith is. I am now certain that I am known, accepted, forgiven, and beloved by the only One who matters.
I can’t say that I would be as confident and at peace with myself as I am now had I not met Sarah. I view my faith, my relationships, school, people, and life differently because she took the time to guide me and lived what she believed. Sarah is a golden example to me, and I anticipate the day when we will meet again with the angels.