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a letter from the chiefess

Dear unknown camper’s mom,

You came up to me and said, “For the past four years, I’ve loved seeing your pictures at tribal on the camp website. You always look so majestic and regal.” I didn’t have any words to tell you but “thank you.” Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I would have told you that the majesty of Chiefess isn’t actually me at all. 

I’d say to you that this summer, I saw God in the small and minute. In scrubbing blackberry cobbler off of pans and in climbing up muddy hills and in houses on the edges of rivers and in the impossibly soft fur of Brittany Spaniels and in a camper’s laugh and in the zzzrrr sound the zip line makes and in singing really loudly off-tune in the kitchen and in red clay that never comes off your toes and in the way the mountains are always there but you don’t really see them until you’re on high land and in the eyes of every staffer who is recklessly in love their Father and in silly songs about “big booties” and in a perfect one handed catch of a frisbee and in good harmonies at worship and in the sunset and in the sunrise and in the stars. 

But not only that, He’s in the heart, in the forming and the healing of it. In the way God provides in the darkest parts of ourselves when we’re so exhausted that we forget the fact that we’re children of a King. 

And He’s in a tiny unicorn and a dirty pink and white flower crown and sometimes I encounter Him by standing on a compass of grass, singing Swahili into a microphone. When I’m chiefess, it’s easier to believe I’m the daughter of a King because I’m wearing a crown. Every summer, God doesn’t just show up for me because He’s been there since the beginning of time. Since before I even knew You. So, unknown camper’s mom, thanks for being there to watch my growth in my confidence and in my faith when I didn’t even know you. Thanks for watching God grow in me, and myself in God, year after year, summer after summer. 
I’m not the majestic one. He is.

Sijambo, Chiefess 🌸

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