Sunday, January 25, 2009

I Remember When...

I moved out of my parent's home the day after my high school graduation. I felt ready for the world but was very naive about what the real world was like even though I remained thrilled to leave the world I had known behind. I moved to Arkansas to work at a Christian Camp during the summer while waiting for the fall semester to begin at the college I was attending. Strangely enough, I wasn't scared to "be on my own", though I was heartbroken at leaving my 5 year old sister and my mom 'behind'. My 1st day of college was my baby sister's 1st day of kindergarten. I also wasn't scared b/c a dear friend of mine, who will probably never realize what an amazing influence he had on my life, took a 'Sabbatical' from his career-job and worked at the camp with me. He had worked there before and I so appreciated having a familiar face, a true friend and someone watching over me. My parents and I handled the moving away just fine; my sister and I cried and cried. It was a bold move but I had tons of outside-the-home emotional and financial support. I ended up working at that camp for the next 5 summers while also helping out with retreats during the school year. Memorable experiences, Godly influences, and valued friends are what stand out the most when I remember that time.


  1. Awesome memory sweetie. Thanks for sharing.

  2. Some of my memories strengthen me, but others just cut my legs right out from under me. I'm glad this is a good one for you. It sounds like you got a good start to being a "grown-up".

    One thing that hit me when I was reading this was your statement that your friend may never know how important he was to you. Hmmm. Wonder how he might find out? And wonder how much that knowledge would bless him?

    Just food for thought...

  3. This is a beautiful memory. Thanks so much for sharing. I truly enjoyed it.


  4. Stacey,
    There was a time in my life, many years ago when my husband and my two little baby boys moved 1500 miles from our family home. I was ready to go, but when we got there, I was devastated. I felt like I left God back where I came from. There was one very sweet pastor, who pastored the church we visited (we never even got involved) who prayed for me regularly. He would do those drop by's that we so often don't like, and catch me crying my eyes out. He was kind and never gave up. Years and years later, I wrote a letter to that sweet minister who took the time to journey with me through a hard time. I received a note back from him, he was so touched.

  5. My brother was 9 when I left home. Like your sister, he cried. But then so did my parents.
    Mama Bear