Wit & Wisdom from my Journey through Womanhood
I find myself reluctant to jump back into the online world.
Last week at church camp there was no cell phone signal and no internet. I thought I would miss it, but I did not. The chapel times morning and evening were good – some fun, some thought provoking. The girls in my cabin were no trouble, and only one day was rainy. The attitude and spirit of the other workers was great. The early morning staff devotions were a wonderful time. I knew the world outside was moving along, but it was far from my mind.
As we drove out of the valley on the bumpy dirt road we noticed when cell phone signal was back. Everyone checked for voice mail. Someone else turned a radio on and radioed us some news. Someone else found out that their son was in a bad accident. It seemed like the world hit us in the face. At that moment I felt like gathering my children, returning to the camp in the valley, and letting the world go on without me.
Nevertheless, here I am. Slowly returning to life as I know it, and striving to remember those quiet times from camp.
Hi, my name is Sarah and I hate the word “Camp”. Although, I’m sure Jendi is having a wonderful time as a Camp counselor this week, I have to say that I do not envy her at all. Not one teeny bit. You’ll find out why in a minute, but first I just want to say what an honor it is to guest post for Jendi. I’ve enjoyed reading her blog for quite a while now and she has a way of making me laugh that keeps me coming back. That and she always leaves me the best comments over on my blog: BlueCastle. I just know that one day I will convince her to ModPodge or spray paint something.
Because she is unable to connect to the Internet this week only readers who have left comments previously will be able to see their comments. All others will be held in moderation until Jendi is back.
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When I hear someone talking about “going to Camp”, I think of two things – Haley Mills (as in The Parent Trap), and me as a girl, sobbing myself to sleep on a top bunk.
My mother was ruthless. She made me go to church youth camp every year, despite my tear-filled pleas. Church camp varied from other camps in that there was sure to be lots of Aqua Net, HotSticks and late night visits to the snack shack after church each evening. There was also lots of Deet. Tons of it. Because all those late night church services made for one big, all-you-can-eat buffet for the local mosquito population.
When I was growing up, my dad was my pastor. I (and later my sister) was the entire youth group. That meant that when each church in our district sent their youth group off to camp, everyone else arrived in vans or even buses. But not me – I came by car. Alone. Or, I hitched a ride with another youth group. And while everyone else in my cabin knew each other, I was the odd girl out, trying to get a handle on how to fit in and figuring out how to use those crazy HotSticks without burning myself. But I was never quite able to fit in with the rest of the girls. Maybe because I was too busy hiding out in the bathroom, waiting until they all had taken their showers so I could use the community shower in solitude. I used to lie awake at night plotting out exactly how I would accomplish that.
I met Courtney through Twitter by volunteering to contribute to Mom Giveaways, and I’m so glad I did. She has a Christian Entrepreneur Site and A Mom Speaks Blog, plus a couple other sites including a design business.
Because I am unable to connect to the Internet this week only readers who have left comments previously will be able to see their comments. All others will be held in moderation until I’m back.
I remember as a little girl at church watching all the older kids get ready for church camp. They would all bring their bags and sleeping bags and outdoor toys to church so that everyone could leave right after service. There was always so much excitement in the church when it was camp time. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to go.
The summer after I turned 7 it was finally my turn to go to camp. I was ecstatic and couldn’t wait to leave. I had such a good time at camp that I never wanted it to end. I wished it was longer than just a week. There were games, swimming, and a lot of new friends. It was just a lot of fun. It wasn’t until I turned 15 that I truly realized how special camp really is.
Today’s guest post is from Kara. She has a passion for words, books, photos, and gardens. She enjoys life on the family farm in the hills of West Virginia with her husband, four dogs, and six cats. Ramblings-n-Writings is a collection of personal experiences, photographs, and professional advice.
We met through Cyndi’s blog, I think. She designed my business card, writes with me at Garden Vines, and when she finishes writing her book I’m going to be one of the first readers! In the meantime she stays busy with her business, Skala Creative LLC.
Because I am unable to connect to the Internet this week only readers who have left comments previously will be able to see their comments. All others will be held in moderation until I’m back. Now, here’s Kara:
Camp memories. Wow, do I have a lot of those! From the time I was in 2nd grade through some time in high school, I spent at least one week each summer at camp with my friend Karen.
When we were younger, we went to New Life Island Camp on the Delaware River between New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Then we switched to High Point Baptist Camp in Geigertown, Penn., as teens.
We did all the usual exciting camp things like shoot a bow & arrow, swim in the pool, consume large amounts of Skittles, ride the horse trails (why did I always get the horse that failed to follow in line?), have bonfires, play big ball volleyball, and make friends.
I wish I could tell you the things I learned at camp during the Bible sessions. But I can’t. I don’t remember. I can picture the outdoor pavilion, the benches, the platform but not what happened … except for one thing.
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