I can hardly believe that we are in the last week of camp already. Sheesh.
It’s always been bittersweet for me to bring camp to a close, even now as a “camp widow”. Reflecting on the summer and the way God has shown up in hilarious ways, beat your hiney up and down the spiritual path, given you energy when you knew there was no way you were going to make it to the end of the week without stringing little Susie up by her pigtails, painted breathtaking sunsets on just the right days, and how he has given you and taught you more, way more than you could have ever imagined, maybe even more than the kids. And those kids sure as heck have you leaving with more life lessons than you gave them.
I love it. I crave it.
I am so glad when it’s over. For two reasons:
- I get my husband back (and now Noah gets his daddy back).
- We can start praying, thinking, talking, planning, bursting at the seams with excitement for next summer.
It’s a vicious cycle, this camp ministry stuff. Sometimes a love/hate relationship, but worth every bump and bruise…emotional bumps and bruises included.
I digress. (Is anyone surprised?)
I started this post to bring you Scenes of Summer, and that’s what I shall do:
Noah assisted the camp director with his staff meeting.
Bottom left: “Look at my stick, Ms. Tarah.”
One more week, folks.