Let's Talk About "That" Picture

Hello everyone,

Christian here again, this time trying out a bigger, more readable font (let me know what you think of the change). I've been out of action for a couple of days now and really felt like I should wait until I had something truly meaningful to post again before writing. 

 I don't want to be posting dumb things all the time just to be "consistent"; on the contrary, I'd rather only post once a week if what I'm writing is something heartfelt or something that I truly enjoy discussing. It means my writing will be that much better and in the end, we will all benefit.

Anyways, like I said, I'm writing today's blog with a heavy heart.

If you've been keeping an eye on the world news over the past couple of weeks, you'll have noticed that recently fighting in Syria, and in Aleppo in particular, has really ramped up as the rebel forces and the Syrian government continue to wage war for control of strategic parts of the city.

During a very recent (read: 2 days ago) airstrike by either government or Russian forces on a rebel-held area of the city, multiple apartment blocks were hit by bombs.

Among the injured was a little boy, 5 year-old Omran Daqneesh.

At this point, you've probably already heard this story from any of the hundreds of news outlets that are reporting it or seen the picture online somewhere.

This has reignited the Syria argument and has really put a spotlight on the many tragedies and horrors the civilians there are forced to survive through daily.

In the video taken by Aleppo Media Centre, workers from the Syrian Civil Defense, more commonly known as the 'White Helmets' (read this absolutely incredible story on them HERE), pull out Omran from the rubble of a bombed-out apartment and rush him into a nearby waiting ambulance.

It's not unusual to see children suffering from injuries in Aleppo during these type of events.

But there are just some images, some videos, some things that will jar and wake up and shock a world such as ours; some just hit a particular nerve.

Similar to the stunning image published last year of young Syrian refugee Alan Kurdi, dead and washed up on a Turkish beach, this new image of little Omran looking dazed and stunned in the back of the ambulance has once again pointed a glaring spotlight on the Syrian conflict and it's disastrous consequences for everyone involved.

As a side note, I should add that having been in photography for a little while now and having a passion for it, and as such viewing tons of photography books, awards, top photographs, breaking news photographs, etc., this whole situation absolutely twists me up inside.

For one, I can't totally get behind the photographer seen in the video just snapping away pictures of the poor little kid.

I understand that as a breaking news photographer for a major news agency, your ONE and ONLY job is to get that picture and send it back to your bureau for publishing.

I understand that in addition to that responsibility, as a war photographer you often feel a moral responsibility to in some way enact social justice in a situation, to get a certain tragedy or event exposed so that people become aware of what is happening and feel compelled to do something.

Photographers are some of the best and strongest social activists I've ever come across.

There are just some situations where in my mind, its just not appropriate at all to be taking photos.

Photos like this one, like the one of little Alan Kurdi, or the infamous vulture photo taken by Kevin Carter.

I don't know, maybe I just don't have the mental steel to be able to just break all barriers and snap away no matter how tragic the situation unfolding in front of me is.

Maybe I'm just not cut out for that, but I have a feeling I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Now, on the other hand, I think now that the images and video HAVE been taken and published online, I support that they're out there and that people who would otherwise be uninformed and blind on the state of affairs in Syria can now be educated and have their eyes opened to just how bad it's gotten there.

Possibly, HOPEFULLY, in some way they will feel compelled to take action and push for change.

Again, do not misunderstand me, I think EVERY SINGLE DEATH I see and hear about is absolutely heartbreaking. That much should be clear for every human being with a heart and a conscience.

But there is something so incredibly distressing, so heart-rending, so painful, about seeing a child suffer the same pain and suffering as an adult.

I can't quite put into words why that is.

Maybe because in much of the world, we have this image of children as sweet, pure, innocent, and tender.

They haven't been exposed to reality yet and are living in their own little world.

They haven't lost their sense of wonder and adventure and haven't been weighed down with all the worries and stresses that life hits us with.

Even in a war zone like Syria, kids will be kids. They will play soccer and cards and fight and quarrel and smile for the cameras and laugh at jokes.

Yet in this moment, we see the innocence of poor Omran being savagely ripped away from him, never to be returned.

That little boy has never had a day in his life where there hasn't been war, death, destruction, and poverty surrounding him in his country.

But as he looks around at his surroundings, scared and timid, I can't help but feel that he has been thrust now into a world so foreign and alien from the one he should be experiencing as a young child of 5.

Maybe it was his haircut, long and floppy up top, cut in the shape of a bowl; or maybe it was his rumpled T-shirt showing the Nickelodeon cartoon character CatDog; or maybe its his mouth and his lips, open just enough to form a small ‘O’, the look of confusion and shyness spelled out on his lips; or maybe it’s his dazed, confused, slow and sad movements in the video. 

As he is rescued, he looks around in confusion, his chubby forearm draped trustingly across the reflective stripe on his rescuer’s back, before he is plopped into the chair at the back of an ambulance, lit blindingly white.

He settles into a thousand-yard stare, apparently too stunned to cry. Then he puts a hand to his bloody brow, looks at his palm in surprise, and tries to wipe it on the chair. He glances around, as if trying to understand where he is.

I don't cry too often at too many things, but I'm not afraid to admit this video made me cry openly. 

Again, I can't exactly pin the reason why. 

Maybe it's because just a few weeks ago, I myself was playing with Syrian-Armenian kids just like Omran. 

I replay their movements, their actions, the curious and shy look in their eyes when they saw the boy from America step into the room. 

Just like Omran, many of them had been caught up in the crossfire of a brutal conflict far more serious than they had any idea about. 

They looked like Omran, they dressed like Omran, they acted like Omran, they were just lucky enough NOT TO BE Omran.

And that, I think, is what hit me hardest. 

Any of those kids I had held and played with and laughed with could've been pulled out of the rubble in just the same way, bruised and bloodied and covered in a blanket of dust and dirt. 

Their lives were, and still are, so fragile. 

As I watched the video and blinked back tears, I can't help but hope and pray that Omran becomes a catalyst for change. True change within the country that brings a halt to the violence and pain and suffering being inflicted on thousands of souls daily. 

My heart and my best intentions want this to be fulfilled, but the facts and evidence tell me that this is only the beginning.

Lord, please let me be proven wrong. 

(the video of Omran's rescue can be viewed HERE)

Song of the Day! (1)

Hello everyone,

Christian here. I didn't have the time to sit and develop a longer, more substantial blog post like I had originally intended.

Instead, I thought I'd start a 'Song of the Day' blog, something unique that hopefully will continue every week on this blog.

Music is interesting. It's like a universal language; no matter what country you are in, you can put on a song and soon you'll have people dancing and singing passionately, even if they have no clue what the words are saying.

Case in point: someone tossed on Bailando by Enrique Iglesias, which is just another dirty song all about the singer taking full advantage of some girl sexually, and soon everyone was dancing like this was some beautiful victory song or something (without understanding one words on the Spanish lyrics). Probably not a good idea to dance to songs that you don't know the meaning behind.

Either way, music has a way of unnearthing deep emotions inside us. From grief to joy, hearing a melody can change our whole mood instantly.

For me this week, there has been a lot of work as I'm adjusting back to my new routine here. Without giving too many details, my mom is also heading to the hospital to have an urgent operation today, and that has been a source of anxiety and stress for me as well.

As a result, all week I've been listening to the song 'Psalm 139 (Far Too Wonderful)' by Shane and Shane.

I love Shane and Shane, and their latest album, titled 'Psalms, Vol. 2', is just a collection of worship themed after all these different psalms. It's a wonderful exercise to turn in Bible to the psalm title of the song and read it, then go on to listen to their matching songs, like 'Psalm 139'.

It's a beautiful song that reminds us that God is firmly and completely in control of our lives, from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs (something I need reminding of sometimes).

The lyrics are absolutely beautiful, so if you have any problems understanding them within the song, I urge you to search them up online and read them personally, either with the music or without.

Listening to it, I can't help but close my eyes and surrender all my fears and anxieties to God. It is hard, but we cannot let ourselves be slaves to these emotions that will only pull us away from Christ.

Go listen to this song, and let me know what you think.

Love, Christian

The Lebanese Have Responded!

Hello everyone,

Christian here again. I had no clue what to put as a title for today's blog, so please excuse the stupidity up top. You'll find it's semi-accurate, after all.

After yesterday's Reflections on Beirut post (which you can find here), I got a lot of cool comments from people who had read the blog. Some people said it was funny, others said they agreed with what I had written about the issues Beirut is facing, and still others said my analysis and reflections didn't match up with reality.

It was cool to get feedback from others, and I'd love to continue getting that, whether good or bad. I realize that I am an American writing these blogs, yet my audience is at least half Lebanese. My viewpoint and perspective might be totally different than someone who is experiencing these issues on a daily basis.

With that being said, I figured maybe the Lebanese people who read my blog aren't happy their views and opinions aren't being expressed.

Well, complain no longer! I've brought in some diverse viewpoints to give my blog some spice ;)

One of the people who got in touch with me after reading my blog post was my good friend Angie, whom I met while In Beirut. We had a good little conversation about some of the stuff I had written, and then I asked her if she would consider writing a response to my post, a "guest blog" of sorts.

To give you some background, Angie is 21 years old, from Beirut (obviously). She attends the famous Haigazian University, and she is majoring in business with an emphasis in finance. So far, not quite the biography of a writer, right?

Normally, you'd be right, but it turns out Angie has a huge passion for writing, and not only that, but she does it very well. She even has her own blog, which you can view RIGHT HERE. She has also been writing reflections from HER Kchag experience, I think you'd all do well to go read it and gain some wisdom from it.

Angie, being the awesome girl that she is, duly agreed to write a small post, discussing some of the issues I brought up in yesterday's post and responding from the perspective of someone who actually LIVES those issues every single day.

So, without further delay, here's Angie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You've written about every single thing that most of us feel/talk about in Lebanon. 

The electricity cuts, pollution, water problems, discrimination, wasta issues, it's all there, the list goes on and on. 

But you know what? Despite these issues, this country is really special to most of us (it is our home after all)! It's not only because we have gotten used to it but because it turns every day into an adventure!

• Electricity cuts? Well, we usually have an idea when the electricity is gonna go, so we don't  really need watches to check the time; it just happens and we are ready for it! Plus, free work-out sessions! We need to go and check on the generator several times a day, running up and down several flights of stairs from our house to street level (usually the switch would be somewhere on the street). 

• Sweat? Terrible Weather? Well, many people just head to the mountains for the entire summer season or they just go to the beach to cool off. Problem solved. 

• Sketchy Food? The trick is to buy from the same supplier each time and try to get to know him or her. The better we get to know them, the more we can trust the food we buy. 

• Water problems? It’s pretty simple, we just pay twice (same goes for the electricity) to get clean water.

• Wasta Issues? The more people you know the better. Having connections is a necessity in Lebanon. 

*Side Note: if you don't know what wasta is, I think this little article can help you get a basic grasp of the word and concept. Wasta is a Middle Eastern thing, although it exists all over the world. There is something about wasta that makes it distinctly Middle-Eastern. Just read and you'll begin to see the picture.

• Discrimination? Women Rights? It's a good thing we have NGO’s such as KAFA and Kun Hadi that are working towards helping us and working out controversial issues, otherwise we might be in some trouble.

• Public Transportation/Traffic problems?  No problem! We just wake up 1-1.5 hours earlier than usual to get to our appointments on time; plus, we know ALL the shortcuts (don't ask whether they’re legal or not)
    
Yes, we are deprived of many of our rights that others consider essential, but the intimate gatherings with family and friends, the loud people speaking 3 or 4 languages at the same time, the crazy crowded streets, and the anticipation of what the new day will bring is really what makes Lebanon feel like home!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reflections on Beirut

Hello everyone,

Christian here again.

It has officially passed the one-week mark since I "officially" left Beirut.

I can't believe it.

It feels like just yesterday that I would leave my house in the early evening, take a walk down the winding, narrow streets of Gemmayze/Achrafieh/Mar Mikhael (no one's been able to tell me exactly where I was staying), enjoying the tiny fruit and vegetable stalls, the clusters of old men leaning over tavli boards, the mopeds zipping down side streets, walk under Jisr Al-Hadid and into Mangia Pizza to order a slice of pizza in broken Arabic.

It feels like just yesterday that George came to my house in the morning with a steaming pot of delicious mamounieh for us to enjoy before our day got started.

It feels like just yesterday that I was in the old VW bus with Datev, driving stick shift through the very cramped, narrow, crazy streets of Bourj Hammoud, dodging mopeds and humans and killer cars trying to hit us.

It feels like just yesterday I was stumbling, half-awake, into the morning leader devotionals at Kchag, ready to devour a Choco-Prince.

These are memories I'll never be able to forget, ones that have been seared into my brain forever. Of course, they aren't the only ones. There are a million memories, most good, a few bad, all swirling around in my head like a tornado. These were just the few that I pulled from the storm.

Since I've been back for a week and have now once again settled back into my routine at home, I've had lots of time to sit back and reflect on my trip (the train to work is my favorite place to reflect).

The first (and most obvious) thing I noticed when I got back were the differences between Los Angeles and Beirut. After coming back, the differences were much more pronounced.

For example, after I landed and got home, I drove to the grocery store to buy a few essentials to eat. As I was driving, I looked around at the wide 3-lane streets with barely any cars on them, with beautiful bright stop lights telling people when to stop and go and lanes indicating a clear direction of travel.

I just smiled and shook my head.

For the last 3 weeks, I had grown accustomed to blaring horns at every intersection, cars weaving in and out of lanes that absolutely no one stays in, terrible traffic on every street, narrow one-way streets suddenly turning into two-way streets, and packed freeways where chaos reigns.

This was a nice change of pace.

I loved having a REAL address again, you know, the type with numbers and a name that you can type into your phone and find on a map.

In Lebanon, although some places seem to have "rough" addresses, no one uses them. They just direct you based on landmarks.

A sample exchange with our pizza delivery guy on Friday night went something like this:

Pizza Hut: Ok, where are you guys located?
Levon: We are at CMC, the old hospital.
Pizza Hut: I'm sorry, you mean Clemenceau?
*George whispering to Levon that he is an idiot (in the background)
Levon: No....uhm, never mind. Actually, we are fifty meters down the road from Geitaoui Hospital, if you are driving down the street it will be on your right side.
Pizza Hut: What is Geitaoui Hospital?
Levon: It's the big hospital near us. Just go down fifty meters, our building has a white gate. I'll be standing outside with a yellow shirt. If you get lost, just call me.
Pizza Hut: Ummmm.....okay, thanks.

Needless to say, I'm happy to be back to a place where it takes 30 seconds to give an address to someone rather than 30 minutes.

On a more serious note, Beirut taught me to seriously appreciate the littlest things in life.

I came home, and I realize how blessed I am that I can switch on any light or appliance in the house at ANY time of the day or night and it WILL come on. There will be electricity, and everything that I want to work WILL actually work.

In Beirut, the electricity cuts off every day for around 3 hours, a different chunk of time each day. That means that for 3 hours every day, your A/C (priceless in Beirut's hellishly bad summer weather) cuts out, your cell phone cannot be charged, your wifi stops working, lights don't turn on, refrigerator stops working, clothes washer stops working, and so on.

I would wake up many mornings soaked in sweat because the A/C had been on and off all night and wasn't strong enough to reach my bedroom from the living room. The rest of my building did not have A/C and the only wifi signal I could get was 2 floors down, so I would go sit in the lobby to use my phone and within 5 minutes the sauna-like conditions would have me dripping in sweat.

I would be showering and suddenly the bathroom would be pitch-black because the electricity shut off.

I stumbled around blindly for my towel, banged my head on the shower rod, stubbed my toe on the bottom shower step, and on top of it all, I cut myself shaving because I was using my iPhone flashlight instead.

A great article to read regarding the electrical problems Lebanon is facing can be found here. The article is almost a year old but it seems that many of the same problems remain.

In addition to now being grateful for electricity (something most in the US don't even think about), I also realized how grateful I was for water again.

In Lebanon, I was strongly warned from drinking tap water and told to stay away from it at all times. Because of Lebanon's previous trash crisis, pollutants had to some extent penetrated the groundwater supply and caused unsafe drinking conditions.

Even to brush my teeth, I began using my bottled water to clean. My showers had to be kept to a few minutes, not because of the tap water issue, but because the water pressure in my shower was literally nothing: it would be a little trickle at some points and I would get excited.

In Beirut, as soon as I stepped out of the shower, I would be hit with the heat from inside my house and would already start sweating again. It just turned into a vicious cycle.

It was a great feeling stepping into my Dubai hotel room shower and feeling jets of warm water on my body. It felt like my first REAL shower, like I was washing all the dirt, grime, and sweat of my 3 weeks down the drain then.

I'm grateful now for the US rating system for restaurants. In Lebanon, you never know if you the meal you are going to eat is your last because you could die of food poisoning.

I'm just kidding, that's definitely an exaggeration, but lets just say the sanitation standards aren't up to par.

I like to know what type of restaurant I'm walking into beforehand. You can walk into the dumpiest-looking restaurant in Lebanon and they can end up serving you the most incredible tabbouleh and hummus you've ever eaten.

Or you can walk into that same restaurant and see a rusty knife on the meat cutting board, which for all I know could've been used to kill someone earlier, now cutting through the kebab I ordered.

It makes every meal an adventure, shall we say? ;)

But in reality though, jokes aside, this is a big issue in Lebanon and many other places around the world.

I remember being in the car with one of my friends Lori a few days before I left and asking her if she enjoyed living in Lebanon.

She said no, and then there was a pause. I figured she would go on to talk about how there was too much traffic, or it was dirty, or something like that, but her answer was really surprising.

She told me she doesn't like living in Lebanon and doesn't know if she wants to stay, because this country can't provide even the most basic human rights to its citizens.

She spoke of the same electricity outages I had experienced, but also talked of full-water cuts (no water at all), not to mention citizens lack of protection from attacks (terrorist or other) is not at all guaranteed. I was constantly told in Lebanon that "you just never know; anything can happen at anytime and could end up sparking real violence."

In addition, women and women's rights seem to be actively discriminated against, although Lebanon seems to be making more rapid advancements in this field than the rest of the Middle East.

This combination of crucial issues going untouched and unsolved has caused much frustration and stress for not only Lori but also for most people within Lebanon.

The answer I received most often when I asked why no one seemed more disturbed the by the condition of country, was a simple dismissive "Eh, we're still living. We're living without too many problems, we 're used to it, we've adapted."

Being dropped in first-hand to experience these same problems alongside everyone else really makes you examine your own life and see how relatively spoiled you are compared to the rest of the world.

It certainly did for me, at least.

I am happy with so much less now, especially after seeing how joyful and glad the Lebanese people always were, even with the problems plaguing their city and their country.

They are a testament to enjoying the simplest things in life: family, friends, church, and fellowship.

Their constant joy, happiness, smiles and good humor were a huge encouragement to me in times when I was struggling there.

I love and miss them all (you're probably reading this now), and I don't just miss them because they were nice people.

I miss their resilience, determination, their fight and their desire to see change. I miss their desire to stand up for their values and not back down from what is right. I miss their passion in defending the morals and values that matter most to them. I miss their genuine passion for life.

That is definitely something we need A LOT MORE OF here in the US.

The Kchag Experience: Part 3

Hello everyone,

Christian here. I am suffering from some post-Lebanon jet lag, but that was definitely to be expected after my nightmare layover in Dubai. My internal clock is really messed up, and I'm waking up at all hours of the night and morning, ready to start my day, only to realize that there are still hours left before the rest of my family wakes up. Here's to hoping I will be back to normal by tomorrow.

In the meantime, I've been doing a lot of thinking and praying about how I wanted to approach this final part of my Kchag recap.

I had written at the end of Part 2 that in this blog, I would be talking about some of the celebrations we had at Kchag.

That probably confused a lot of you, and for good reason. I wanted it to be as vague and confusing as possible, so you would all come and read this blog and then understand exactly what I meant.

As leaders at Camp Kchag, all of us had (hopefully) gone to camp with the end goal of making a tangible impact in the lives of the campers and to draw them closer to Christ.

That's a pretty heavy responsibility given to each of us, that over the course of just ONE week we should hope to become immersed in individual campers' lives, learn their ambitions, hopes, successes, failures and fears and then be able to lovingly comfort them and bond with them and encourage them.

It's not always as simple as talking to them about whatever issue they're facing and then talking about how God can help them.

Sometimes, to show them their real worth and really make that impact in their lives, it's as simple as celebrating them for who they are. When you celebrate these campers, you are evangelizing to them without ever even saying the word 'God'.

To show them a perfect example of God's love, care, and joy, sometimes it's as simple as throwing a party for them to show that you too care.

So that's exactly what we did.

Believe it or not, this entire week was a celebration of EACH AND EVERY CAMPER.

We celebrated the athletic campers as they fought and competed in Army 101, Yuck Games, and all the sports they played. We gave them the platform to show off their athletic skills, to jump, run, slide, crawl, shoot, and dunk.

We celebrated the theatrical campers as they acted out a series of short skits that were presented to the same Syrian-Armenian children I had met a week earlier. They got to be creative and use their voices, their humor, and their emotions to portray to these young children some of the amazing stories found within the Bible.

We celebrated the campers who love to cook and bake. Together with Chef Levon, they got to learn more about creating delicious sweets. They got to sort out ingredients, stir marshmallows, create a Rice Krispie base, and create a finished batch of Rice Krispies. In this way, we gave them the opportunity to do what they love most and allowed them to bake something that we all ended up loving.

We celebrated the musically-gifted campers as well. All we had to do was leave out our instruments. Soon, as you walked around the camp, the beautiful sounds of the piano, guitar, drums, flute, and violin drifted out from the main chapel. We pushed the campers to be confident and play and sing during worship time; as a result, we saw them step out of their comfort zones and flourish as they sang and worshipped. As it says in Psalm 150, "Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and the lyre, praise him with the tambourine and dancing, praise him with the strings and flute, praise him with the clash of cymbals."


We celebrated the intelligence in EACH and EVERY camper as we challenged them at difficult mind games throughout the week. We had them anxiously discussing in groups the answers to questions on tons of random topics during our Jeapordy game.We tested their general knowledge and intelligence when they rushed around camp answering all sorts of trivia questions during Pokémon Go Matrix.  We forced them to analyze closely and use logic to figure out a murder plot in our Murder Mystery game. In these ways, we showed them something so simple yet something that many of them never hear or are told they're not: that they are smart, that they are intelligent and sharp kids and that they are each brilliant in certain subjects and topics.

And now, in this narrative, we have reached Thursday night.

On Thursday night, we had a revival, a chance for the campers to confess every burden and hardship weighing them down, a chance for them to come and accept Christ into their hearts, a chance for them to fulfill the words Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:17, in which he declares "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: the old has gone, the new is here!"

All the leaders stood in the back of the room, so that any camper, that felt something tugging at his or her heart could go back and be with a leader.

The worship band played through one song.

Then two.

Still no one had come back. We were all starting to feel a little anxious.

And then, in a moment I will never forget, one kid stood up and came back. His name was Boghos, and he had lost his dad when he was younger. He rushed back to his leader, Daniel. Daniel had also lost his dad when he was younger, and the look on his face when Boghos got up was one of pure, unbridled joy, so much so that it brought him (and the rest of us) to tears.

After that moment, it was if the floodgates had opened. Kids started streaming back, some smiling, others in tears.

So many people on that night decided to turn their lives around and either give their life to Christ for the first time or just confess that they were struggling with deep griefs and hardships.

If we hadn't already been brought together as one big family, this was the night that did it for us.

On Thursday night, we had our biggest celebration yet.

This was a celebration to honor and congratulate every camper who took the huge step of seeking God first in their lives. We celebrated their vulnerability, their courage, and their desire to seek change. We celebrated their realization that something within them felt empty, a hole that could only be filled by God. We celebrated adding more beautiful children into God's everlasting kingdom.

There was no better way to end Kchag than with a celebration.

The only difference with this last celebration was just one small thing.

This celebration is lifelong, and will last for eternity.

Photos: Levon Babikian 

The Kchag Experience: Part 2

Hello everyone,

Christian here again. I finally made it home! I'm typing this from my room back home, and let me tell you, it is the best feeling ever to get home after a LOOOONG travel day and just jump on your bed.

With that being said, I am finally continuing my recap posts from Camp Kchag. Last time, I wrote about the incredible people that I met at Kchag. I stand by my word; every day I'm apart from them, I feel like I'm missing something. They truly changed my life.

This time however, I'm going a different direction for Part 2. I want to talk about all the events weset up over the week at camp.

Usually, the events a camp puts on during the week are often some of the main highlights of a young badanee's camp experience.

And, although I don't have insider knowledge here, I'm guessing Kchag aims to be number 1 in this aspect of camp.

Let me tell you, they succeeded at it.

This week was on another level in terms of the variety of events we had. We literally had it all.

We had workshops each day where badanees could learn everything from acting to self-defense to fashion etiquette and hygiene. I personally thought these workshops were a brilliant idea because each day, you were exposing the campers to new ideas that are practical and allow them to learn something new that they may be able to use in their life one day. Giving them the choice of which workshop they wanted and to attend each day gave them the freedom to enjoy each workshop to the maximum. When you are enjoying what you are doing, you tend to learn more easily and when you learn more easily you end up becoming a sharper, more well-rounded intelligent individual. It was so inspiring seeing the badanees transform and learn something new each day.

Another thing we did, and this should be a no-brainer for most camps, is daily afternoon games. These are usually some of the biggest and most elaborate events of the week, and are usually the ones the kids end up enjoying the most.

This year was no different. I was extremely impressed with the creativity and uniqueness of Kchag's games this year. I've attended camps since I was young, and from my (limited) experience, the camps tend to fall into a routine of reusing the same "fan-favorite" games each year.

Not so with Kchag. We were blessed with two awesome leaders orchestrating and directing the two big afternoon games this year.

The first leader is Daniel Baghdadian. Towering at over 6'7" (do the conversion for meters), with a neatly shaved mohawk and thick beard, Daniel LOOKS physically imposing, like a giant ready to crush you under his foot, but in reality he is a loveable teddy bear deep down. With the tragedies that have befallen him thus far, I can only wish my faith and trust in Christ to be as strong as Daniel's. He is a perfect example of someone who has weathered numerous trials and temptations and yet emerged a stronger believer in Christ Jesus. With every push-up he reminded the badanees to be disciplined in all aspects of their life, and with every word of his story, he reminded us all that God equipped us with a firm faith to conquer every hardship in our lives.

Daniel, aside from being a strong believer in Christ, also happens to have been a soldier in the Lebanese Army until quite recently. There was no better person then, to be the leader for Monday's Army 101 games. The badanees jumped, ducked, crawled, hopped, and slid across a giant obstacle course that contained a tire run, stepping stones, a balancing bridge, and maze to crawl under.

Everyone finished the obstacle course and challenges feeling worn out and carrying fresh new cuts and bruises, but not a single person left the course with a frown. By the end, every single person was smiling and laughing and cheering, and it was so encouraging to see the badanees learn a few life lessons all while fighting and persevering through the pain they encountered in the challenge.

The second leader behind our brilliant afternoon games is Aren Deyirmenjian. Aren is normally the quiet one. He lets his actions speak louder than his words. He may not talk much, but he truly expresses himself beautifully through his talent on the piano. I never saw him asked to play a melody he didn't know. We sang countles songs over the week, and Aren was prepared for each and every one of them. His talent stretches far beyond pre-practiced songs though; I heard Aren playing beautiful impromptu melodies with a bunch of the badanees multiple times throughout the week.

From organizing the Yuck games to wearing a purple wolf mask, he was ready to do anything to cheer up the badanees and put smiles on their faces. Aren always has a mischevious sparkle in his eyes, a slight hint of a smile on his face, always ready to joke around and have fun when the time calls for it.

So then who better to lead this year's Yuck Games than Aren?

The whole concept of this game is to sit back and watch the badanees do crazy things like drag themselves through a mud pit, bury their heads in flour looking for hidden eggs, throw eggs at one another and have buckets of mud thrown on them. Basically, all-out craziness. Aren was the perfect man for the job. By the end, not a single badanee who played had a single clean spot on them, and not a single one of them cared. Everyone loved the freedom of just going crazy and getting dirty and getting their friends dirty, all while Aren was "egging" them on. Ahhh, see what I did there? ;) It's safe to say that getting gross and dirty had never been more fun than on that day.



In the third and final part of my Kchag recap, I'll talk a little more about some of the celebrations we had over the week and why Friday night was the perfect way to end a perfect week.

If you have no clue what I'm talking about, that's okay. I'll explain in detail in Part 3.

Until then.....read on, my friends.

P.S.- I'm a very visual person, and this post was all about visuals. I want you guys to have a good idea in your minds of what we did, when we did it, and who participated. With that being said, here are a ton of pictures of the events at Kchag.