{English Camp: Day One}

My alarm went off at 5:45 on Monday morning. I gingerly climbed down from the squeaky top bunk, groggily wondering how it was that my daughter had managed to claim the bottom. It wasn't the first time that week I was to feel that rather in-my-forties feeling. One by one we rolled out of bed. Fatigue was quickly washed away in the excitement and nerves characteristic of first day jitters, however, and we eagerly got ready for the day. Once down in the hostel's common room for breakfast, we each found a plush chair and grabbed a menu.

I hadn't yet learned to speak slowly and distinctly, so when our server asked for my order, my loud-and-eager American self requested black-tea and muesli. The word "black" must have been slurred beyond comprehension, for she brought me green tea. I inwardly shrank back in horror, but outwardly smiled my thanks. Maybe the tea was different here?

The muesli was served with yogurt, and I approached the counter to serve myself. I scooped the grains from a quaint clamp jar and looked around for the yogurt. I saw only a glass pitcher of cream, and asked the server where the yogurt was. She pointed to the pitcher. Ah! One pours the yogurt. That breakfast -- raisin-packed muesli and plain, pourable yogurt -- quickly became my favorite way to start the day. And when I later glanced at Bethie's mug of tea -- which was decidedly black -- I determined to speak more clearly next time.

Johnny arrived promptly at 7:15 in The White Van. We piled in and headed to the church, a jumble of nerves, curiosity, and enthusiasm. Our team was soon circled on the floor of the church sanctuary, where we gathered to review the day's schedule, answer last minute questions, and pray. Although camp was to start at 8:00, some students arrived earlier, based on their parents' work schedules. We had outdoor games set up for just such an occasion, and each day throughout the week a few of our students would join them as the rest of the staff finished last minute class preparations.

The rest of the campers were very prompt, and camp was in full swing by 8:00. As they arrived on that first day, the campers each chose a workshop to attend, and Brooke also met with each of the 17 students to determine their placement in the three English classes we would offer. The rest of the crew remained outdoors, leading a variety of circle games and yard activities that would keep everyone entertained throughout the week.

The camp schedule of events was so carefully planned out and so well thought through by the JV staff, that it was exciting to watch each activity unfold throughout the day, whether it was a morning English class, an afternoon song time, a late afternoon game or a special, themed activity. Our Glenwood team was responsible for teaching the English classes, leading workshops, choosing and explaining the afternoon games, and prepping a number of "circle games" to have on hand. Games such as Mad Cow. (Enter that rather in-my-forties feeling.)

I guided our English teachers through the curriculum as we prepared for camp, but once Drew, Michael, and Hailey were in their separate classrooms, they ran with it on their own. In addition to having a lead teacher, each class had an interpreter and both English and Slovene-speaking assistants. Brooke and I were like nervous mother hens once those doors closed behind them. Would they need our help? Would they be nervous? Did they have their bag of markers?!? Did they need the banana costume yet?!? We needn't have worried. Each teacher did an excellent job, and it was an absolute joy to watch both teachers and students grow throughout the week. (And yes, we even got to use the banana costume.)

PC: Urh Kolar

PC: Urh Kolar 

PC: Urh Kolar

PC: Urh Kolar

English class took up two blocks of the morning, and the rest of the day was filled with numerous opportunities to practice conversational English: we shared meals and snacks, played games, sang songs, practiced the camp dance, and learned new skills through various workshops. (I'll save those details for another post!)

Each day also had a special theme or event of some sort, and Monday's theme was "cowboy." We giggled as we were lead by Gwynne and Urh, who opened each day's activity with a mini skit. They soon had us donning the appropriate hats and bandanas to pull off the cowboy look, and we closed the day with cowboy games and line dancing.

PC: Urh Kolar 

PC: Urh Kolar

PC: Urh Kolar

PC: Urh Kolar

By 5:30, parents had arrived, and we said goodbye to those 17 middle schoolers who were very quickly working their way into our hearts.

After the students left, Johnny and I whipped up sloppy joe's for dinner in the church kitchen, and then the whole team gathered on the church patio to eat and talk over both the events of the day just spent and the events of the day to come. Of course it seemed only fitting to make a final ending of the day in downtown Celje.

So we headed directly to the ice cream cart, as one does.

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{Camp Preparation}

The morning of Sunday, August 5th, found us traveling away from The Chestnut Place toward Johnny and Brooke's hometown, Celje, where we'd stay for the remainder of our trip. The JV staff graciously hauled our team of nine hither and yon, and it became a daily occurrence to pile into the white van -- in addition to the staff's personal vehicles -- and be expertly escorted to our various destinations.

I was quite impressed with the many details the JV staff had to juggle while feeding, housing, and transporting nine extra people. They pulled it off flawlessly. My mother instincts never shut off throughout the trip, however, and I was constantly counting to make sure we had everyone. One, two, three . . . .

(No doubt this instinct was heightened because one of our students, Michael, failed to come off the plane in Gratz, Austria. We looked back, waiting for him to come down those steps . . . but no Michael. My mother heart went into mother bear mode. I would climb back on that plane and make sure he was okay! He could be frightened! He could be confused! He didn't speak German!!! But the attendant informed me that thunder and lightning threatened, so the rest of the passengers were to remain on that plane until a van could escort them to safety. So there we waited. And waited. Finally, the passengers were released, and we could breathe normally once more and make our way to the family and friends awaiting us.)

After arriving in Celje that Sunday, we joined the team for morning worship, where Johnny gave the message, which was translated by his friend, Marko. It was a joy to join our fellow worshippers in song. We recognized the melodies, but of course the words were unfamiliar. We tried our best to follow along, and I got about as far as deducing that "noš Bog" must mean "our God." I felt quite fluent in my discovery.

Following the service, we headed to the hostel, where we'd stay for most of our trip. The host warily eyed our large assortment of 50 lb. suitcases and commented, "Those are big bags." We inferred this must be unusual. (This guess was confirmed as we saw most people sauntering in and out of the hostel with mere backpacks. Well. Clearly they weren't hauling candy and curricula.) We headed toward the stairway, glancing from side to side, looking for the elevator that we were sure must be just around the corner. It wasn't. Up the stairs we went, giggling and grunting as we hauled those 50 lb. suitcases up . . . and up . . . and up.

Sunday afternoon found us back at the church where we had pizza for lunch and then quickly launched into preparations for the coming week of English Camp. We prepped the church grounds, reviewed the curriculum, games, and activities we'd planned, and learned that, when necessary, a straw broom can be groomed with garden clippers.

By Sunday evening we were tired but nervously excited for the quickly approaching Monday morning, which would reveal to us the ins and outs of the first day of camp. We enjoyed dinner at one of our favorite Slovene food carts -- Jamie and I could eat kebap on a regular basis -- and headed back to the hostel.

Climbing into the white metal bunks in our rooms that night, we girls found ourselves wrestling with the fitted sheets -- especially on the top bunks -- which produced another fit of hostel-induced giggles. We were definitely a little tired, a little nervous, a little unsure of what to expect for the next day. But we conquered those fitted sheets and finally fell into an exhausted sleep. Perhaps we could successfully navigate the first day of camp, as well.

{The Chestnut Place}

I chose a worn, secluded picnic table, covered in fragrant pine needles. Brushing them aside, I opened my Bible and began scratching away in my journal. It was 7:00 am; morning voices mingled with the swaying chestnut and evergreen trees. Women in the kitchen chattered merrily in Slovene; I couldn't understand their words, but as their banter floated out the open window I imagined it to be much like hundreds of other morning kitchen conversations that have occurred throughout countless times, places, and centuries. ("Did you gather the eggs? Let's get the water boiling; they'll be ready for their coffee!")

Simultaneous banter soared from the opposite direction. Some of our students had climbed the tower on the chestnut hill (the tower that made my stomach drop), and there was my Avery's voice among them, her pitter patter steps confidently navigating the steep steel stairway. I was glad I couldn't see her. Up, up, up she went, her little body towering over Sentjur, the distant valleys below blanketed in quiet wisps of fog.

PC: Gwynne Gardner

Tucked between the two languages, there among the trees, I marveled at the beauty of language, of people, of culture. A student ran up the hill behind me, and I remained at my post -- nearly invisible among the thick trees -- continuing to scribble out my morning prayer. I was grateful that our team of nine had safely made it from PDX to Slovenia (via Amsterdam and Gratz), and, even though we were fighting jet lag, we had already banked hours and hours of new experiences to keep us alert, excited, and eager.

Our team orientation took place in a hut and surrounding grounds on a chestnut hill near Sentjur, Slovenia. Similar huts appear throughout the countryside, providing refreshment and shelter to traveling hikers and backpackers. No doubt this hut has a name of its very own, but we affectionately referred to it as The Chestnut Place.

There, Johnny and Brooke (my brother and sister-in-law) and their Josiah Venture team led us through an excellent three day training course, which included not only teaching, but sharing, laughter, games, and music.

Meals were provided by Iveta, the manager of The Chestnut Place, who quickly became a sweet friend. We were delighted (and very willing) to experience a number of Slovene traditions in the form of food: Farm fresh eggs and garden tomatoes with slices of cheese and homemade bread for breakfast (Iveta says bread is always best kneaded by hand), hearty soups and meats for lunch (lunch is usually the biggest meal of the day), traditional ćevapčići for dinner, and mouth-watering crepes with homemade strawberry jam and whipped cream for dessert, to name just a few.

Daily we gathered around the table en masse and enjoyed getting to know friends from Slovenia, America, and Northern Ireland. These were the friends we'd grow to love, friends with whom we'd continue to share the essential, core elements of life: more meals, more laughter, more training, more work, more service. Alongside one another, we'd learn to dig deep, to do the hard things, to faithfully embrace the things that matter.

I penned my last few thoughts and prayers, and as I closed my journal and glanced at the time, merry laughter soared from the kitchen window. No translation was necessary: I smiled to think that laughter is simply understood. I climbed off the bench and rubbed stray tree sap from my hands. The kids scrambled down from the tower. Breakfast was ready, and a new day had begun.