The camp we have sent our church kids to has shut down for the summer. I cannot say I am surprised. More surprised, really, when the decision was made to open. With everything that has happened, I actually feel pretty good about the camp not opening.

         But it made me smile, too, as it sparked memories. At the previous church, camp was three and a half hours away. The seasoned campers looked forward to it. Talked about it for months before. Connected with campers from other churches to make sure they would be there. Parents planned getaways while their little darlings were gone. It was a big deal. A few of the older campers looked forward to the event so that they could renew acquaintances with ‘summer romances.’ One of our campers had graduated high school just before he left for his last camp. He and a young lady, from a church on the other side of the state, had been hanging out since they were in sixth grade. This would be their last camp together. My camper had been seriously dating a young lady in our area. I asked him how he was going to deal with his long time summer romance. He gave me a cocky smile and told me he would have to let her down easy. I was always one of the van drivers when we went to pick up the kids. On that Saturday I pulled into the parking lot and saw this particular Youth. I called him over. He was really down.

         “Hey, you OK? How did it go with Josie?” He looked at me and tears started forming. “Pastor, she’s getting married! She broke my heart!” I tried not to smile and said, “Well, you’re getting pretty serious with someone else, too.” He looked at me and then took off running to his cabin. What was really hurting him was his macho ego.

         But the most fun I had was with the first time campers. That camp was structured different than the one we have used here. Your sixth, seventh and eighth graders went to one camp and the high schoolers went to a different camp. Actually, same camp ground, just different weeks. And the cabins were different. No cabin had more than eight campers and in each cabin you could only have two campers from the same church. For meals, camp staff did all the preparation for the meals (thus, no need for church folks to be there) and the campers did all the cleanup. When you went to camp that first time you were going to be practically alone and they were going to make you work! Why is Mom and Dad doing this to me???

         The kids had to be there and registered by 2 PM on Sunday. So, our kids left around 8 AM to have time to cover mishaps or whatever. Obviously, I couldn’t drive them down, but I did get to send them off. This is where I enjoyed the first timers.

         A car would pull up and, if the camper was a girl, you could hear the wails as the car entered the parking lot. The boys tried to be good little soldiers, but the girls all turned into drama queens. “Please Mommy! Please Daddy! Don’t make me go!! NOOOOooo! Please!” Then the car would stop and the parents would emerge. Mom always looked embarrassed. Dad always looked like he was at the end of his rope. Little Suzie, meanwhile, would start wailing. “This is abuse! NOOOooooooooooooooo!” She would be dragged out of the car and then she would see me. “PASTOR WADE! Don’t let them make me go! Keep me here!” Then the deal making began. “I’ll mow your yard! I’ll help Marsha! I’ll do whatever you want! Don’t let them take me!” Every year there was at least one who would give the whole performance. The others would always give some portion of the performance. Lots and lots of tears, though. Lives being ruined. Death just days away. Marsha went with me to one send off. As they pulled out she muttered, “So childish.” “Yes, dear, she is a twelve year old child. You expect childish.” I loved those first year campers.

         Pick up day was at noon the following Saturday. That’s the one I always went on. For both groups. Each van was issued a couple of boxes of tissues. Oh, yes, there would be tears for the return. Now the kids didn’t want to go home. They didn’t want to say good bye to their new best friends. My, my. It was terrible. Anguish and agony. I would tell them it was time to load up. “NO! Pastor Wade, you don’t know what it is like!”

         Finally, though, all loaded and off we would go. A dozen kids crammed into a van. Kids who hadn’t bathed with any intensity in a week. Kids who had clothes that had been full of sweat and were now packed into duffles. Every window was wide open. Birds fell to the ground as you drove by. Anyone who was in earshot for the first half hour would think the van was loaded with war wounded.

         Within thirty minutes we were to the interstate and we always stopped to let the kids hit the McDonalds. After all, it had been six whole days. Other vans with kids from the camp were also there and our kids and the other kids acted like it was a reunion of people who hadn’t seen each other in fifty years. It was funny to hear two boys talking about something that had happened on Thursday, but it sounded like they were recalling some story from their youth, only decades later. Then, leaving from McDonalds wasn’t anywhere near as gut wrenching as leaving the camp. No tears. Hugs and waves and laughter. Getting back in the van. Headed home.

         That was when I would find out about camp. What they had learned, what they had done. And the camp songs! That is when the misery would set in for me. After an hour of that, they would start to fall asleep. I would have to wake them up five minutes from the parking lot so that their parents wouldn’t think I had left them somewhere along the way.

         It was part of the building process for life. Later, they had some foundation as they faced other daunting times. Leaving home for the first time, facing the loss of a loved one, walking into the unknown of marriage. As they came of age they were a bit more ready to face life’s hard times.

         Thinking back to those camp kids, they did pretty well with life. John called me this week to tell me what was happening in his career. Ashley had a stroke about a year ago and she has recovered very well. Jason is teaching math and is the head football coach at a high school in Ohio. Jeff and his wife Diane lost a baby. Mary and Steve lost a baby. They are doing well now, moving forward with Christ in their lives. Tina is a lawyer. Jenny is a teacher. The Mosely sisters are both veterinarians. I remember them and all the rest and their struggles and triumphs. Camp played a big part of that growing up experience.

         I am not upset that camp shut down this year. But it does seem as though our kids have lost a lot, more maybe than the adults. Then again, we have really good kids. I am thinking that this will all just be some of the stronger blocks in their foundation for life.