My Testimony Part 2

Hello again. This is a continuation of my last post, and will likely not be very long either:

I started going to this church camp when I was six or seven. I was known as a "cadet" at camp then, which just infered that I was in elementary school at the time. The week often passed by with the same routine as the last year, with meals, chapel, and several different crazily fun activities. It was here at this camp on the floor of the chapel that I received the gift of the Holy Spirit and was able to speak in tongues...sometime either as a fourth or fifth grader. I may return to telling more about my cadet experiences later on in my testimony, but it's time to end about it now.

Pretty soon I was a "youth" or middle/high schooler at this camp. There was more flexibility in the schedule and competition between teams, but the one thing I tended to enjoy the most was the services. They were upbeat and lively most of the time, and whoever spoke was able to capture and hold my attention quite easily.

It was the year of 2002 that this camp milestone was constructed. I went to camp two weeks that year, first with my church and then so I could spend time with my friend Kristen I had met in previous years. That first week was great; it was altogether extremely awesome. One of the competitions I personally participated in was a brown-bag eating thing. There were paper bags labeled with point values ranging from 100 to 500 points, 100 being something easy to eat and 500 being something disgusting or hard to eat. Whoever had the beach ball when the music stopped would "get" to choose a bag. And, guess what, I was one of those who got to choose.

I said a quick prayer before choosing a bag. I didn't really want to have to chew anything because my teeth still didn't touch properly thanks to me getting my braces on just a month or two beforehand. I picked a 400 point bag. I sighed with relief when I saw it was in a bottle. Without truly reading the label, I opened it and chugged it as quickly as possible.

It was about the saltiest thing I had ever tasted. It turns out my drink had been of clam juice. My mouth was literally salty the rest of the week, no matter what I ate to try to cover it up.

That week was mostly fun and games for me. But in the back of my mind pressed one thought harder and harder. I felt a great urge to know one piece of the puzzle of my future, adult life. I wished to know something about my job, what I'd do, anything! I decided I wanted to ask God for a sign, like Gideon in the Bible. The problem was, what was I going to ask for as a sign? I pondered something like, "If my team wins, I'll be a missionary" or "If our teams tie I'll be something else." But those just didn't seem RIGHT. Strange thing is, I really did not want at all to be a missionary. Maybe it was because I hadn't been to a foriegn country ever before (besides Canada for a day when I was two) or don't really have that great of the social ability to communicate or work well with other people.

In the farthest part of my brain that was still reachable, sign language was tugging. I did not consciously consider this until the next week, but I am absolutley positive it was there.

I'll be continuing my testimony the next time I return to blogger...which may be tomorrow or even in a week. I don't know. Have a great week! Remember: God loves you and has a plan and purpose for your life. God is good all the time, and all the time God is good.

†God Bless†
Bria