moving

I am sitting on my front porch or steps, really, of my boxcar talking to a camper. It has been a long day: up before seven, one hour off, and now it is drawing near to eleven and any extra energy I had earlier in the day has been used to scratch my hundreds of mosquitoes bites that cover my legs. My camper is telling me about her adventures on the high ropes course and I am trying with all my might to stay focused, but the high ropes course no longer holds the same thrill it did when I was 12 and like I said before: I am tired. Now, I have never been a big believer in déjà vu, I can’t really remember ever feeling it and I don’t really get what it is, so this may be déjà vu, or it could simply be a strong memory, it doesn’t really matter either way. But, all of a sudden I am not a counselor, or a college student but I am thirteen again at summer camp, asking my counselor how the heck you ever mature in your Christian life or life in general. Everything was so far off. The feelings are coming back from middle school and youth group and the feelings of constantly trying so hard. I heard the gospel constantly, but I felt like I was never going anywhere; I was always going to be in middle school; I was always going to not be completely sure of my salvation and was always going to be too young to drive or stay up to midnight. But, in the next moment I am back listening to this camper tell me about high ropes, and I honestly can’t believe where I am. How did I ever get here? It is scary what happens when don’t even realize we are moving.