One of the biggest struggles I had the first few days of camp was that I kept worrying what people thought of me. Parents dropping off kids, other camp staff, the kids themselves… my imagination gave all of them sinister doubts about my competence, my enthusiasm, my age, my beauty. It was all silly. And life is not about me. I always forget.
A relief to me during camp was that I had a Sunday school class full of women at home praying for my heart to be content and not worried about boys. Camp has historically been a great place of freedom and delivery in that respect, but I was concerned a little, and my friends at home knew. Prayer matters. It really helped. So I was glad there were no guys there whom I “needed” to impress. Sounds silly. Is silly.
Don’t take this as making excuses, but in any case I don’t really want to be trying to impress someone. I don’t want to care about anyone’s impression of me except for God’s. If something had been “meant” to happen as a result of camp, I still needed to be focused on pleasing God.
1 Peter 3:3-4 - "Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— 4 but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious."
There was a theme banquet the last night of camp, and the theme was Tool Time. I tried to think of something in my wardrobe that looked like Patricia Richardson from Home Improvement, but I really don’t like her style. It is so nineties-mom-tries-to-look-fashionable. So I brought overalls. I had a skirt, too, but I wanted to be a good sport. I also lost track of time and had not time to change, but did anyway. I had intended to find out what my girls were wearing. I remembered at the last second that I had agreed to do something just before the banquet that required me not to be in a skirt, so that was that. I was stuck.
Here’s the funny part: I got a lot of compliments on my theme-outfit. So I was getting attention, and it was positive. But I was so embarrassed, trying to act like a woman ought to act at a banquet, with good, elegant manners. Mixed with overalls and rolled flannel sleeves, that just looks ridiculous. I kept feeling the need to curtsey and remembering.
By the end of the night, the last thing about which I was thinking was my clothes. There were too many people to consider. And I wasn’t thinking about what others thought of me, either. There were much more important things on which to consider.
I wore a skirt the last morning.
To God be all glory.
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