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Honour the Child

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Friday, 11 July 2008
At camp.

I grew up going to camp and began, at age 13, working as a counsellor for many summers and later took on more specialized camping positions to help finance university.
And although camp as a child was only a week of my year it was a large part of my life and it is fair to say I grew up at camp. I found my faith at camp. I learned my leadership skills at camp.

If you have never been to camp (and had a positive experience) it just doesn't translate. You can't explain camp. You get it or you don't. You love it or you don't. I do. I do.

Going back to camp this past week was like finding myself, all of the self that has been buried in the last decade of professional life, marriage, motherhood and so on. Myself the funny, outgoing, ready-for-anything leader with songs and games spilling out at any spare moment. The memories of campfires and friends and bad pranks and cold morning dips came rushing back, bodily. I could feel those memories on my skin. I felt whole and peaceful (if a little old! how far I have come from my camp days!).

Boy, did I need camp.

My heart sighed with contentment at being home. And even more that, it sang at finding out that even at the tender age of almost 3, my daughter loved it, too and I saw that camper in her come to life as we sang silly songs, swept the weird hopping bug out of our cabin and sat together at Chapel Point, looking out at the loons on the water.


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