Church camp, a road trip, and a little drop in the bucket

If you are reading this on Monday, you are probably reading this while I am on my way to a place that has been a huge part of my summers for several years.  It's a Christian camp, located in the plains just in between San Antonio and Houston, off a country road and a town long forgotten by developers and megastores.

For nearly the past five years, I have gone to this camp every summer as a counselor for 4th through 6th graders. I have made dear friendships at this camp that have lasted me for years.  One of the fellow counselors and one of the camp nurses I'd call two of my best friends-- the ones I call when I'm the snotty lump, or when I am shaking with fear not knowing if my kids are okay when one is back in a crisis.

Starting with long evenings sitting out in this open area between cabins, telling our stories of how we had come to faith in Christ and the challenges our faith had gotten us through, I came to know and love these women.  Every year, we'd chatter excitedly over Facebook about our departure.  I'm sure we were more excited than the kids.  And every year, we'd come home singing the songs that had been burned in our heads at worship (yes, some were silly and you wanted them out of your head) and marveling over the God moments of this year.

I also came to know and love all the little corners of the rustic, beautiful 150 acre campground.  Each counselor and their cabin-- six to eight eager, squirrelly, innocent young ladies who sometimes floored me with their descriptions of how God had moved in their lives-- would find an isolated spot to have their daily
Bible study and reflection time each day.  Lucky  you if you got this spot over near the lake or one of the swings in the breezeway!  Someone would always dash to claim the abandoned church that is original to the property and then realize that it is the only non-air conditioned places there!


Last year, I didn't get to go.  I had started my wickless candle business and our huge national convention was that week.  I didn't want to miss it, but my heart ached for camp.

This year, I wasn't asked to go.  I guess since I had left Children's Ministry for a while and wasn't in the loop I just wasn't on the list.  I was sad, but accepting.  At the last minute, I was approached to see if I was available because they had had a last minute rush of registrations.  Unfortunately, I knew I needed to be home with my son, who was still struggling to get on his feet, and I also had a big family obligation 500 miles away the following weekend.  Filled with regret, I said no.

So when my friend, the fellow counselor, who also wasn't able to go this year, asked if I wanted to tag along with her, just for an overnight-- to drive 3 hours each way to spend just about 24 hours in this little corner of heaven, I jumped at the chance, despite a laundry list of things that had to be done before our family weekend trip.  (That includes making 24 centerpieces that I just started Sunday night, but that's a whole 'nother post--- see keyword procrastination).  Her daughter was a little mom-sick as they had gone together the previous 3 years, and her son was serving as a junior counselor, and she had promised them she'd come just for a day on her day off.

From what I was told, we will stay in an empty cabin in this lake house.  We should get there right before dinner and get to fill our buckets with amazing worship.  We'll talk until the wee hours, and the next morning after being energized with the morning message and more amazing worship, maybe we will get to do some of the camp activities, like laze in the amazing pool with a lazy river (not exactly relaxing when it's filled with 3rd graders jumping in in 3 foot tubes, but it's still water), or maybe even get to go on the 5-story zipline, one of the first places I really learned to trust God.

But I know that when I come home, I will have at least filled a tiny bit of my bucket and have something to draw from on the days I feel bone-dry.  I will remember the days when my kids still smiled and laughed at camp.  I will remember the deep, deep friendships born of that camp.  And I'll be a little more healed.