By Tammy Sharp, Regional Reporter
PELICAN – On the last night of Girls Camp at Clara Springs Baptist Encampment this past summer, my friend and pastor’s wife Julie Bell (First Baptist Church in Hornbeck) and I were celebrating because with the Holy Spirit’s guidance, we’d spent the whole week making sure all 19 girls in Bobcat cabin knew Jesus.
We pulled campers aside every day to talk about Jesus as they swam circles around us in the pool; as we braided hair and gently combed out monstrous tangles; as we canoed and fished; as we sternly insisted on the need for showers every day; as we enjoyed s’mores and learned about missions; as we pondered the mysteries of missing socks and shoes and towels that disappear into thin air; as we looked frantically for missing snack shack cards; as we moaned about the heat and the long line in the dining hall; as we painted nails; as we learned new recipes; and even as we doled out discipline for too much talking during FOB (Flat on Bunk, or in layman’s terms: nap time).
By the last day, we were exhausted.
But camp wasn’t over. We were lining up for supper when we saw our youngest Bobcat sitting alone and crying. A few questions revealed that her grandmother had not yet arrived. Phone calls went to voicemail, so we encouraged the girl to go on to worship service and not to worry. Grandmother was probably just late.
“But what if she doesn’t come?” Julie and I looked at each other and the whole challenging week flashed between us. What if grandmother didn’t show up? What if this was a scheme to avoid the responsibility of this very challenging child who had severely tested even Julie, the serenest person I know?
This child, the youngest in our cabin at age 6, was very skilled at getting around authority. By the second night we’d moved her bed near Julie’s so we could get some rest. Combined with frequent disappearing acts and an insistence that shoes, showers or changes of clothing were optional, all things seemed to point, in that moment, to the possibility that grandmother might be contemplating letting this Bobcat become the camp mascot.
I banished the thought. “Tell you what, if she hasn’t shown up by the time worship is over, we’ll go talk to Bubba and call all the phone numbers he has on your information sheet.” She thought that was a grand idea and ran off.
“Surely not,” Julie said, and I made a face of horror at her before we both laughed. “She’s a firecracker.”
But grandmother didn’t show up during or after worship.
And on top of that every camp counsellor, Bubba, Mandi and anyone having to do with the running of the camp promptly disappeared after the worship service. Julie was under a time crunch to get our girls back home, so I sent her on her way.
The precocious Bobcat and I scoured the camp grounds looking for someone in charge. As we rounded the end of the worship building where the pools are located, we saw Bubba in the kiddie pool, surrounded by people, just dipping one of the camp counsellors in what was obviously an impromptu baptism service.
When my little Bobcat saw what was going on, she lurched toward the pool and squealed, “I’m next! Oh me next! I want to get baptized!”
Her fervor set off alarm bells in my heart, and I put my hand out to stop her. “You have to wait on your grandmother,” I said.
While I was trying to slow her down, another girl stepped forward and into the water. Still, my Bobcat persisted. Before I could stop her, she’d made her way to the edge of the pool and began tearing at the lanyard around her neck.
Resigned, I began videoing with my phone. Julie would love to see this.
All 19 girls in Bobcat Cabin professed faith in Jesus Christ this past summer during Girls Camp at Clara Springs Baptist Encampment.
Another counselor helped her get her lanyard off, and Bubba held out his hand. Sh grew solemn and nodded at the questions Bubba asked her.
I glanced over to Mandi who had been videoing the entire time. “Her family isn’t here!”
“I don’t think you could have stopped her,” Mandy mouthed at me with a look of reassurance.
Within a few minutes my strong-willed, brave little Bobcat who took charge of her destiny and wouldn’t take no for an answer was soaking wet and baptized. When it was all over, grandmother came walking up with two other grandchildren, and I told her the news. Grandmother shrugged. “She’s hard to stop when she gets her mind on something.”
Praise God for that.
Later, I realized our Bobcats, mostly girls not affiliated with any church, represented generations of people distracted from anything to do with a holy God. Left on their own, these girls would never have found Jesus. But thank God, He found them at Clara Springs and has, no doubt, a kingdom plan for their lives.
