Today I got to lead a presentation to teachers from my district. It was a Beginning Writer's Workshop. During that time we had them write a memory they had of a place they loved. I settled in with my notebook and went back down memory lane to a place I spent many summers. Every year I went for at least a week to church camp at Lake James. My memory was of the first time I went.
You see, my best friend was not able to go with me that year. I went anyway, since I knew the adult who would be our room mother and I knew most of the other girls in my dorm. My parents drove me to camp and helped me register and unpack my suitcase. I even got the top bunk. After they left, I ended up sitting on the porch feeling sorry for myself. I was homesick already and it was only Sunday afternoon.
Soon I found a family from my church. They were there to drop off their son, who was my age. Their daughter, who was younger, and I were close friends. She was too young to spend the week. We walked around camp while her brother got settled in his dorm. Then it was time for her family to go home. I got all emotional. I sniffled, I sobbed, I pleaded: "Please, take me home with you." Her mother was a kind hearted soul. She agreed to let me ride home with them. I rushed in, repacked my clothes and sleeping bag before she could change her mind.
That night we went back for the evening service. Boy, were my parents surprised to see me there. That was the only time I ever did that. Camp became one of my favorite places to spend a week in the summer. Maybe it was because my friend always came with me after that.
I shared my story with my response group today. In that group is a lady I now attend church with each Sunday. When I finished my story, she said, "I went to camp there, too. We probably went at the same time." After some quick questions we found out that we had attended church in neighboring towns and indeed, probably did go at the same time. We have lots to talk about now! Sharing a Slice of Life can be so enjoyable!