Flashback Friday

In 1985 I spent half the summer in California, working at a summer camp where my oldest brother was the program manager. I worked in the horsemanship program as a stable hand, which meant I toiled for hours in hot, dusty conditions, feeding horses at the crack of dawn, picking rocks out of the arena, caring for sick animals and helping to saddle and unsaddle roughly 30 horses a day.

Green Oak Ranch was a camp run by the Union Gospel Mission - so the majority of campers came from inner city Los Angeles. That summer, while I worked my tail off, God was opening my heart and changing my small town perspective as well. I taught kids who'd never seen an animal larger than a dog how to ride horses. And I learned what a 'booty' was. And I saw more braids than I'd ever seen in my life.

I was 16. And it was a glorious summer.

If you've never worked in a camping environment, I'll tell you, it's a place where you build relationships hard and fast. After all, you're living with these people - working hard - seeing each other at all hours - with no makeup. Within weeks you can feel more attached to your fellow staff than you'd ever believe possible.

It's really a lot of fun to work at summer camp.

In 1985 I made a friend at camp who would influence a huge part of my young adult life.

Geoff Odell was a couple of years older than me. A counselor at camp that summer, he had a way with kids and a sense of humor that drew me in and intrigued me. At 6'5", he towered over everyone on staff, but could bend down and connect with the kids with such gentleness that you were almost surprised when he stood back up, unfolding his legs to reveal his full stature.
We became friends.

Geoff was going to Biola, but shortly after camp ended, he joined staff with an inner city missions organization in Los Angeles where he was going to lead Bible clubs for ghetto youth. He was the first missionary I ever supported.

God used that opportunity to watch what Geoff did to give me a love for the city. Geoff and I wrote letters and talked on the phone and he would tell me stories about his ministry. I began to grieve for kids who find themselves living in poverty here in America, in a culture ridden with drugs and gangs and poor schools. I read Geoff's prayer letters with fascination. He was living in the ghetto. Loving people there. Being a part of their community. And telling them about Jesus.

I was so interested in Geoff's work that I began dreaming my own dreams of working in the inner city. And I did, eventually, spending three more summers working at camps for disadvantaged youth and then working full time with a different inner city missions organization in San Jose.

There's more to the story, because I also happened to fall in love with Geoff. Over the years we had become great friends. And I became convinced that God wanted us to be together... two people passionate about the inner city - willing to give up the American dream to live in impoverished communities and invite the hurts and struggles of the city into our lives... it was a perfect match.

The problem was, Geoff wasn't in love with me.

So while my heart got broken, I found that God used this man to influence me and push me out of my comfort zone and show me a little bit of what I wanted in a man.

My broken heart, while gut wrenching and overwhelming at the time, led me to evaluate my dreams. And really think through what I wanted to do with my life. And while I realized I couldn't love the poor with Geoff at my side, I still loved the poor. I pushed forward and made my own way - and grew up quite a bit. It was a good thing, that broken heart.

We stayed friends. But Geoff is a bit of a vagabond, and over the years I'd lost track of him. I think perhaps we spoke ten years ago or so... because I know he knew I was married and had a couple of kids.

This week we reconnected. (Don't you love the internet?)

It's great to find old friends.

Great to look back and reflect on how God uses people to shape our hearts and open our eyes and build our world view.

I am thankful for Geoff. He's a good guy, through and through. And if I'd never met him, I'd have never spent three adventurous years living in the inner city as a young woman. I'd have never met Kelly. Or eaten real tamales. Or learned that possessions are just things - and to hold them loosely (because in the ghetto possessions have a way of disappearing.) I'd have never pushed myself to learn Spanish. Or learned how to live on $250 a week. I'd never have mailed my prayer letter to a guy named Asia after I met him at a wedding. And that guy wouldn't have come and worked at camp for a week, where he watched me do my 'inner city thing' and fell in love with me.

So here's to Geoff.

And old friendships.

And broken hearts.

And Google. Happy Friday, friends.