We timed our departure to arrive slightly before our assigned window. The nervous energy powering the car up the mountain to the base of Long’s Peak. We lined up in a modern day wagon train made up of enough black SUVs to be mistaken for a presidential motorcade. The camp director greeted us personally and then directed us down the drive to be welcomed by a throng of exuberant camp works jumping and cheering like ours was the first car to arrive. We were unloaded and guided through a series of stations all designed to be efficient, yet personal. Every.single.person we encountered was overflowing with joy and enthusiasm. Kenny made a worried comment, “I think this camp is too loud for me!?”
I held back tears of joy, hopefully anticipating the magical week that lay ahead for my oldest, quiet boy. He was cheered into the Otis cabin where we met one of his three counselors. Alex was from Iowa, just thirty minutes from my hometown. It felt like a little wink from God, and any inkling of anxiety over leaving my child evaporated.
We drove home with our two younger boys, fielding questions about why they couldn’t stay at camp and making amends with arcade games and ice cream. It was a quick week filled with summer fun and friends and a set of twins who rediscovered the enjoyment they have for one another.
Saturday morning dawned bright and early, back on the road for pickup, but this time a little more prepared to be part of the impromptu caravan of black SUVs. There was another warm greeting at the camp entrance, a closing ceremony, video screening of the week’s activities, and a last chance shopping experience fueled by camp cookies and lemonade.
Kenny was happy to see us, but carried a shy and glazed over expression. I wondered if his introverted nature got the better of him, if he had merely survived his week at this “loud” camp.
We made our way to the Otis cabin for the final item in the agenda: Character Quality awards. The three counselors had worked together to write about the character traits they had witnessed in each of their twelve campers. They had a story or two to support their observations, and multiple Scriptures to encourage each boy. One by one, the boys were called to the front. The counselors placed hands on the boys shoulders and poured out words of encouragement to overflowing. Each boy was unique and seen through the lens of the God who created him.
Kenny was the twelfth boy. He gave each counselor a bear hug as he took his turn in the spotlight. Alex’s voice wavered as he started talking about my quiet, introverted son, the one I had worried wouldn’t fit in at camp. He spoke of Kenny’s pure heart and loving spirit, and of his unstoppable imagination. I couldn’t stop the flow of tears that poured down my cheeks. Kenny had been known and loved at camp. He had made a positive impact on his cabin, and they on him. What more could a mama ask for?
We had an amazing fairwell as we drove off the camp grounds to high fives and cheers from the staff, but the fairytale was short-lived. Five minutes after leaving, Jacob informed his brother he had “accidentally” traded one of Kenny’s Beyblade toys with a friend, queuing the start of a twenty-minute, World War 3-type battle. The truce wasn’t fully sealed until belly’s were filled and heads nodded off in long-overdue sleep.
Dazed and confused, “Why can’t I stay at camp all summer?”
As we descended to Denver in a quiet car, my heart was too full to sleep, and my mind too busy churning everything I had witnessed that day: the joy of reuniting with our son, the sadness of leaving a place and the people who had come to know and love him so well. There was a sacred quality to the entire experience. To be known and loved is what each of us yearns for. And the earning is only fulfilled when we come face-to-face with our Creator.
It’s no surprise that Kenny loved and thrived at Camp Timberline. They excelled at reflecting God’s light, bringing each camper face-to-face with his Creator, allowing them to be known and loved. Maybe I need to spend a week or two OR THE REST OF MY LIFE at camp??
We arrived home with plenty of time to for post-camp cleanup. I sent Kenny straight to the tub for a long soak with multiple types of soap while I hesitantly unzipped the suitcase. He had proudly informed us at pickup that he had changed his socks every day! So it was no surprise to see 90% of the clothes untouched. I fully expected such shenanigans of filth and didn’t let it bother me in the least. (Am I good boy mom or what?). And then I noticed his perfectly folded pajamas. HE WORE THE SAME CLOTHES TO BED!? I’ll give back the boy mom gold star, thank you very much. And we’ll be having some serious hygiene talks before camp next year!😂
