Camp Allen ‘12

Knowing Trent, and knowing that blobs exist, it has been my longtime dream to bring the two together.

Success!

Our family spent last week volunteering at Camp Allen.  The college students, high school students, camp staff, and other volunteers really keep the camp running, I was just reprising my role as “extra adult” and for the first time ever, sharing the week with my hubby.  Our responsibilities consisted of being a responsible adult presence on the campsite.  Rush and Tate were along for the excitement.  If only I had a video of them dancing in the dining hall, I wouldn’t need to say anything else to prove how much they loved the week.

The theme for the week was WIPE OUT, so we kind of asked for it with the rain.  There was more rain at camp last week than I have seen during any other week in my entire summer camp history. Our campsite had great staff who made the most of it – what’s a kid going to remember forever, a trip to the pool or the mud fight that replaced it? 

Rush put some major miles on the bikes this week. The campers just got used to throwing high fives as he drove circles around them during arts and crafts.  He also talked Trent into tying the bikes together with lanyard string so he could tow Tate around.

The low point of the week was when Tate fell face first down the stairs and we thought his nose was broken.  At least the nurse was just a radio call away and my pediatrician aunt was available to confirm that he was okay.  He’s healing nicely, thank you God.

Having two small children at camp was actually much harder than I expected.  Not hard in any real sense, like thermodynamics or being in the army, but hard like I spending the week at summer camp in Texas and only putting on my bathing suit once.  And even then I only stayed in the pool for about eight minutes.  What made it hard wasn’t so much the extra work at meals or watching the kids (except around the lake – that was nerve-racking) but missing some of my favorite parts of camp while my less-than-favorite parts remained. 

The trick to taking little kids to camp is that taking care of them meant that I ended up skipping the times set aside for just being with God, like Compline, and then replaced them with lounging around eating Oreos and Starbursts and gossiping.  Oreos and Starbursts and gossip eventually made my body physically hurt.  You can easily gorge yourself on candy while your children are sleeping, but you can’t leave them alone in a cabin to go to praise and worship.  Then my mom and sister started going to bed early so I ended up spending my evenings hiding in bed reading with a flashlight so I wouldn’t get sucked into helping with first aid, aka giving Band-Aids.  I ended up going to bed earlier at camp than I do at home.  That might be a first, not just for me, but for anyone.

If one of the benefits of being adult is knowing thyself, and the quest to know thyself, I know that I’m not really a camp person in the traditional sense.    The weird thing is that I’ve never really liked camp things, like ropes course for example, but I always loved Camp Allen. I loved it and and love it. I love the holiness of the place and the people and so many other things about it. I don’t like being in a grubby t-shirt day after day and I don’t enjoy the feeling when you think a drop of water is running down your skin, only to remember that you’re at camp, so you check it out and of course it’s not water, it’s a bug.   It’s not news to me that I dislike capture the flag type games but will tolerate them as a tradeoff for relationships and God’s presence.  I just never realized how hard camp would be without those holy moments.

I started to feel like myself as we got closer to home, and as I reentered my regular life I recognized how uncomfortable I had felt at times.  I took all our laundry, which smelled drive-with-the-windows down bad, like a boys cabin,  to the washateria today to get it all over with at once.  The music playing in the washateria was jazzy gospel and when the one song came on that I knew and liked,  I had the God moment I was seeking all week.  “If we are faithless, He remains faithful.”*  I may have missed the Wednesday night Eucharist at the lake, but God’s not going to abandon me because I’m in a different stage of life than I was as a high school camp counselor.

Also I love laundromats.  They smell like dryer sheets, there’s plenty of time to read, and you leave with everything clean and organized, no small feat in any other circumstances.  Plus they’re warm without being stuffy and a little overly personal, as everyone’s underwear is stacked in plain view.

Rush did not want to leave camp.  He fell asleep last night on the deck because, “I just want to look at the cabins.”  He was planning out where he’s going to sleep (top bunk) when he’s big enough to come with his friends.  He also wants Tate in his cabin.

The sweetest moment of the week was when the nurse asked Rush is he wanted to go on a ride in her golf cart later in the week.  He said yes and as she turned to walk away, he called, “Can Tate come?  Can my brother Tate come?”  It melts my heart when those two get along, which is why I should have held back from periodically fighting with my sister in front of my mother during the week.  But we love each other too and she, as usual, made me laugh to the point of crying.  She’s my Tate.

If Rush and Tate ever get a summer job at Camp Allen, I’m sending these pictures:

Tate taking a bath in a baby pool in The Pit and…

Rush on the last morning of camp in his nametag and pajamas.

Here’s something that’s not like riding a bike: basketball. The adults (ages 29-60) started with HORSE and eventually switched to taking turns shooting baskets from anywhere and just trying to see how many shots we could each make out of 10.  The overall average was 3.

As usual, a posed family picture is elusive.  I didn’t think about trying until the very last day and at that point we were all exhausted. 

It was one of the best weeks of camp ever, but I think Casey put it the best when she said, “I feel like I just observed a great week of camp.”  We’ve both had enough weeks of participating at Camp Allen to put in some observation time to allow Trent, Rush, Tate, and Carolena (my niece) to have wonderful experiences.  It was 100% worth it to be able to see Trent act like a camper.  He was everything I’ve ever imagined he would be at camp:  defeating the Iceberg, doing flips off the diving board and teaching the campers that can openers make bigger splashes than cannon balls, getting his Nalgene bottle filled with coke at Canteen.

I wish Trent and Tate and Rush could all write posts from their perspectives of the week.  I think that the fact that they’re all conked out asleep speaks for itself.  I’m so thankful the bonus experience of Camp Allen summer camp as an adult with –my personal favorite part- my husband and children so I don’t have to be homesick.

 

*2 Timothy 2:13  Check out the Episcopalian quoting the Bible.