In A Second Family

It seems right to be writing my 100th post about something that means so much to me.

The people whom I drove away from just a few hours ago, a Camp that I know so well, and an experience that I wouldn't replace for anything.

I remember in Grade 6, when I first discovered what Bible Quizzing really was, and the way that it created new bonds between me and others, within my own team and at every tournament.

It was this year that was kind of my first year of "normal" life. The last time I had been on Canadian (okay, North American) soil had been four years before, for one year of home-assignment during my Grade 2 year.

I was awkward, I was socially inept, I felt lonely, I was only here for a year and didn't want to form bonds that would rip away a part of my heart when I left... and I found an answer to my longing to belong in Quizzing.

It didn't really matter how well I did, although doing well did give me a sense of accomplishment, competitive as I am. It was more the fact that no matter what, those people in my Quizzing group, and the people I interacted with at tournaments cared about me for me.

It was as if I saw the body of Christ come alive in a true way through the way that I felt safe and comforted when surrounded by others who gave such importance to memorizing and prioritizing God's Word in their lives.

And after that year, I left.

I returned to the jungles of Africa, was homeschooled, did lots of crazy amazing things that I would never trade for more years in Bible Quizzing... but two years later, things changed.

Most of you (addressing the quizzers who will read this post) don't really know my past. But the synopsis goes something like this:

Two years after we had returned to the missions field, my sister started exhibiting strange symptoms that we couldn't account for. At first, they were only minor, irritating things that we thought were just stubborn habits that could be fixed. But as time progressed, things got steadily and steadily worse. Eventually, it got the the point where something had to be done about it. We quickly packed things for a short journey, headed to one of the big cities and consulted some doctors. Their reply? Fly back to Canada quickly!
So we did. And once again, I was thrown into the rollercoaster of we-need-to-figure-this-thing-out-but-normal-life-goes-on. We arrived back in time for my Grade 9 year, and I was once again in a position of uncertainty, loneliness, and trying to figure out what normal life looked like, not only for a Canadian, but also for my family, while trying to visit doctors, get a diagnosis, and get my sister healed.

And it was during this time, that I joined Quizzing again. Immediately, that sense of belonging, of comfort, of everything being alright, of having security when my life was anything but, all came back again.

It's been a splendid five years. Five years of wonderful friendships, of growing in my relationship with Him and understanding what it means to hide His word in my heart, of feeling more confident in speaking publicly, of how to win and lose gracefully, of being surrounded by those who know what the terms bookie and clicky-seat mean.

But most of all, it's been about surrounded by family. And my sister is healed now. In fact, she's been quizzing for the last two years, and this year, on my team. Many of you know her personally, and many more could probably recognize her face.

Nothing ever goes like we plan it out. Especially when He's at the helm, following His plans which are far wiser, better, all-knowing, and good for us than anything we could concoct.

When I came back here four years ago because of a medical emergency, I didn't understand.

I still don't understand fully. But I want all of you to know (even those of you who aren't quizzers) that by knowing you, I have understood in part what He was doing.

If I left overseas if only to come back and quiz, that would be enough (although I suspect He's got multiple things up His sleeves yet to be seen).

You guys have become a second family to me, and it's crazy to think that, in most likelihood, I will not see you all together for at least two years.

I'll miss you.