I Need Filter Camp

We’ve been home from vacation for 5 days, and what a vacation it was! Two weeks of gorgeous weather spent reading on the beach, bike riding on trails paved with moss-covered trees, and eating fabulous food oceanside. We fed turtles, spotted dolphins, went boat riding, and meandered through the beautiful harbour filled with yachts and lighthouse. Our holiday was such a blessing, truly. We don’t often get the pleasure of a two-week vacay, but it worked out this year. I prayed, rested, soul- searched and healed. It was a gift.

On arrival back to reality, I had a 48 hour turnaround time to get Super Hubs and Little Squirt all ready for Father/Son church camp in the wilds of Michigan. They made the 9 hour drive up to the boat launch on Wednesday, where they were escorted across a river and through the woods to our church’s scenic, rustic camp in the U.P. I miss them like crazy, but keep imagining throughout every day all the fun they are having. And all the danger they are in.

I have an over-active imagination. On most days, I can use that super power for good. It enables me to dream and create and think outside the box. But, on the flipside, it can backfire on me like too much cabbage. All the “what ifs” go popping through the right hemisphere of my brain, jump into my mouth and fire straight into my children.

So when Little Squirt woke up on Camp Morning worrying about bears breaking into his cabin, I knew he didn’t get that idea from Super Hubs. And when he fretted that the boat taking him to the camp would speed so fast he’d fly out into the water, I suspected my mellow, easy-going kid was channeling my anxiety. Perhaps it was the prayer I’d prayed over him the night before: “Dear God, please protect my son from snakes and bee stings and sun burn...."

So my wonderful, left-brained, logical, practical husband pulled our youngest aside, and reassured him. He said there was nothing to fear, that he would be by Little Squirt’s side every moment. Just like God. And off they drove to camp, father and son.

And I’ll remember my husband’s reassurance to Little Squirt, and I’ll try not to worry.