Summer camp, both as a camper and counselor, has always been a place of exponential growth.  It is always when that last closing ceremony wraps up that, all of a sudden, everything in retrospect becomes worth it.  It’s at that time when everything begins to make a little bit more sense.  And just like a Dove chocolate, I finally get to see the secret and inspiring love letter written on the inside of every incident and interaction with campers.

Like I said, though, that’s at the end of camp.  Currently where we are three weeks in and less than half way there, nothing makes sense and spoiler alert!– I don’t have it all together.  Still, I am in the process of learning it is okay not to be okay, and that in all which is beyond my understanding, God is teaching me to trust.  Now, I know I don’t always live like I believe that, but then again am I the only one who sometimes forgets how absolutely and wonderfully and graciously and constantly and persistently faithful God has been in the past?  What.  Just me and the Israelites?  Okay.  Cool.  Fine.

Well, here then is to being honest and admitting that growth doesn’t always–or ever?–feel too good.  However, in that same accord, here’s to becoming worthy of the future that I have always wanted, a future that makes no sense whatsoever apart from the continuously intercepting grace of God.

Mazel tov.

I raise my hands and lay down my life to You once again.  You can have it.  I trust you.  Let’s go.  Bring on the campers.