Beverly was the director of my first sleep-away Awana Camp in the summer of 1983. It was a perfect job for her. With her no nonsense haircut and the energy of a natural athlete, she could handle 15 acres crawling with children ages nine to sixteen. We Campers were expected to rise with the sun by trumpet salute, line up to pledge allegiance to the Flag, then give thanks to God, then perform thirty minutes of calisthenics, and return to tidy our rooms before breakfast. God's love, discipline, and Christian camaraderie were the order of the day at Lake Ripley. Each camper had Bible verses to memorize, skills to obtain, and physical feats to conquer before returning to civilian life after our two weeks. One of those conditions was to swim out to a raft 100 yards from the beach and back without water wings. At nine years old, I should have been able to swim this distance unaided, but I was haunted by a picture of me clawing at the water as I sank and disappeared into black muck at the bottom of Lake Ripley. My counselor knew that Bev was a family friend and asked her to speak to me about swimming out to the raft.
Bev joined me on a log where I was contemplating the possibility that I might not sink to the bottom, as evidenced by all the other kids now diving off the raft and having a great time. She tried the 'wouldn't you like to join your friends?' approach. I did want to join them but was not entirely sure I would make it. So, better to wait for them to come back to shore, I thought. Bev tried again by throwing me a bone, I'll swim out alongside you, if you start to get scared, I'll be right there. That was comforting, I thought, except for the fact that I might sink faster than she could swim! I gave her a maybe. Bev's final words were something like, You don't want to be afraid to swim, do you? You just have to give it a try and prove to yourself that you can do it! You can sit here and watch all you want, or you can get in the water to make it to the raft. Waddaya say? I looked at her and smiled sheepishly as I shook my head. I was perfectly comfortable with being afraiddy cat, at least I was breathing.
Eventually, I became very confident in my ability to float. As I floated unfettered for a whole ten minutes for the first time in a pool in St. Louis, Missouri, I remembered and gave thanks for Bev's words about proving to myself that I could overcome my deepest, most irrational fears.
As I remember, Bev was all straight talk, hard work and grit, that is, until someone would lose their job, be betrayed by a loved one, or have a seriously ill child. In the face of hard times that called for Bev's strength and her fortitude, people would cry and vent to her. Bev's eyes would fill with tears and her normally placid face would be traced with every fear, strain, and bruise right alongside her neighbor, her friend, her employee, and sometimes a stranger.
Though I am not a Bible reader anymore, I found this verse on the internet that I think fits the Beverly that I remember. And, I am thankful for Beverly's love for my family, her fairness as my first real boss, and her profound words on that log at Lake Ripley back in 1983.
Luke 10:27 -- 27 He answering, said: You shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart and with your whole soul and with all your strength and with all your mind: and your neighbour as yourself.
