Let My Light Shine

In September I entered an essay contest for Real Simple magazine. I just found out yesterday that I didn't win, but thankfully through this blog I still have a way to share my story with others. The magazine posed the question, "When did you first know you were a grown-up?" And here was my response:

Let My Light Shine
By Carrie Kenady

In the summer of 1996, I took a job as a camp counselor in Brevard, North Carolina, a quaint and artsy town in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains. At Camp Illahee, girls can learn a range of activities, from soccer to synchronized swimming to horsemanship. I spent the 10-week position teaching gymnastics, tennis and (don’t laugh) weaving to girls of all ages. I knew absolutely nothing about weaving before I got there, but I was a convincing actress, and luckily I caught on quickly.

In the Cherokee language, "Illahee" means "heavenly world." What an appropriate phrase for what would become such a spiritually enlightening summer for me. In the span of those 10 weeks beneath the summer stars, I evolved from a completely lost and shattered 19-year-old girl into a more confident, independent and guided woman— a woman destined to become the strong, positive 32-year-old author, teacher, matchmaker and spiritual healer I am today.

I had soon-to-be-sixth graders in my rustic log cabin all summer. What a great age. They're still young enough to adore every word you say but old enough to carry on semi-intellectual conversations. Once lights were out and I had comforted any lingering waves of homesickness or hushed any outrageous fits of giggles, I retreated to my own tiny mattress and crawled in bed, usually exhausted from the strenuous physical activities of the day.

I fondly remember falling asleep to the frogs’ loud trills in the nearby lake or to the melody of rain tickling the tin roof overhead, promising to deliver a new day of hope and energy and revival. I can still taste our fried chicken suppers on Sundays, and the inevitable gooey S’mores we made by the campfire.

Every Sunday morning the girls woke up and donned their camp uniform: a white polo shirt, white shorts and thin, blue cloth ties that tucked just so beneath their collars and tied somewhere near their belly buttons. No matter how hyper and hormonal some of those girls were, once they put on their “Sunday whites,” they all looked like little angels.

One Sunday in particular we walked to our nearby campsite for a brief, non-denominational church service. As part of the service, we all sang “Angels Among Us,” a moving ballad written by Becky Hobbs and Don Goodman. The country group Alabama made the song popular when they released it in October of 1995. The chorus goes like this:

Oh I believe there are angels among us

Sent down to us from somewhere up above

They come to you and me in our darkest hours

To show us how to live

To teach us how to give

To guide us with a light of love.

Standing there in that serenely beautiful and spiritual moment, all of us were completely connected to nature and the “heavenly world” around us. The girls’ pure and innocent voices flitted through the trees and waters like a savory aroma wafting through a busy kitchen, but their words made such a lasting, indelible imprint on my heart. As if angels were singing through them, these beautiful, young souls reminded me that truth, light and love are always here— we just have to look for them.

In the span of three or four minutes—or however long it took for us to sing that song together—I realized that I was a grown-up with an incredible amount of responsibility. I had so much to teach these girls. But I also realized that back in the “real world,” life didn’t have to be so hard.

As a 19 year old, I was right in the thick of my parents’ divorce. If ever there was a lost soul, I was one of them. Even though I had a bright future ahead of me and the world at my fingertips, I was struggling with self-esteem issues and severe anxiety and depression. Like so many other college freshmen, I had succumbed to binge drinking and overeating, behaviors that felt good temporarily but never provided lasting comfort for my soul.

Today I know with 100 percent conviction that I attracted that “heavenly world” into my life experience just when I needed it the most. I created that peaceful, natural environment for myself so that I could retreat inward and find myself again. I might have discovered that I was a grown-up, but I also discovered that I needed those girls just as much as those girls needed me.

They taught me that the biggest glimpse of hope we can have for our future is to believe in the one thing that will carve it: ourselves. They taught me to look inward to find my own happiness. They taught me that little girls are and can be everything they want to be.

On the last full day of camp, we had the girls make floating candles, which we instructed them to bring to our closing ceremony. We sang some of our favorite camp songs and then asked the girls to release their candles onto the lake. As I released my own floating candle onto the water, it was almost as if I released my childhood into the depths of that water below me and gave myself permission to let my soul’s light shine on top of the water’s surface. I remember how organically beautiful it was, with all of the twinkling lights floating peacefully under the sky’s nighttime canvas, the moon lighting the dark pathways beneath our feet.

In that moment, I realized that we were all infinitely connected. We were all one in that heavenly place on earth, where angels wore little white polo shirts with purple popsicle stains.

I was a grown-up woman, ready to take on our big, crazy world. I was ready to touch others’ lives in positive, meaningful ways. I was ready to let my light shine.