Probably easiest to divide the chronicles of our Honduras trip into a few parts...
The trip was amazing, what could I possibly say to describe it and still justify the journey? What words are there to relate one incredibly week in a third-world country? Try as I may, I could never do it justice, so I won't sum up the week by saying the trite 'it was an eye-opening experience'. For now I'll just say that I had a hard time coming back to the states and wanted to stay much longer, whether in Tegucigalpa or elsewhere. You can ask me more if you really want to know.
The majority of the trip was spent doing manual labor: house building, painting, ditch digging, and whatever else got thrown our way. Four days were spent rotating from site to site, with Friday being our day of completion.
Ok, doing a little backtracking for this post. A few weeks ago, I met Mom and Dad in Alburquerque and we packed in and climbed Wheeler Peak outside Red River. Had a great time enjoying some cooler temperatures and a chance to get away from everything for awhile. Jessie enjoyed the adventure as well, probably due to the fact that she didn't have a 30 lb. pack on her back and she got to wear her 'Doggles'. Here are some pics of the trip.
Hola! We all arrived back in Dallas from Teguciagalpa, Honduras at 3 am this morning. Wonderful trip in so many ways. It was hard to come home, and it is certainly much harder than I thought it would be to adjust back to our rich, spoiled American ways of living. I'm not a fan... Will try to update on here soon and get some pictures up. For now, I'm just trying to tackle the laundry....
So I had great intentions to update, post some pics from the week and all that good stuff, but here it is, 9:15 and I have to be at the church tomorrow morning at 6 am to leave for Honduras!!! Did I mention that I haven't packed yet? Yeah.... So I'll catch up when I get back and will have a multitude of stories to share. Blessings on the week to all...
The first week of Camp of the Hills 2007 has come and gone. And I wasn’t there for it. Granted, I woke up Monday morning thinking I had to be in the dining hall at 9 for breakfast, then off to clean the bathhouse before quiet time. And at 2 I was sitting at my desk thinking that vans of excited children were arriving right at that very moment. But I wasn’t there to run out the dining hall doors for “Game Time”. Tuesday morning I know there were kids putting on ropes course harnesses and throwing fishing hooks around, and Wednesday afternoon there was probably a lot of laughter in the swimming hole. Certainly Thursday night at 7 my thoughts drifted to the Crucifixion Re-enactment, and I know that tonight a feast of kool-aid and popcorn will be had, awards passed out, and hugs given. But I won’t be there for that either. And the vans will pick the kids up tomorrow morning, counselors will collapse and battle for the washer and dryer, and the cycle will continue for 7 more weeks of the summer. But for the first time since the summer of 2004, I won’t experience all that goes on in Girl's Cabin 3.
It’s brought on a strange feeling this week. I feel like I’m missing out on something big, yet at the same time feel such a relief that I’m not in the middle of it all. Silently rejoicing that I can go home and take a shower without wearing flip flops and don’t have to eat ham if I don’t want to, but also wishing I could see those kids that I got to know over the last 3 years and be there to braid hair for banquet night. It’s certainly been agreed upon that many of us would give an awful lot to have one more moment with those special kids. Cause you can’t get those things back. Life is like that. You have to soak up all the moments when you can and hold tight to those memories, cause you eventually have to be able to move on in life as things evolve and change. Not always a fun gig.
So for those of you at camp this summer, soak it up. Each moment. The good, the bad, and all the in-between. Each frustrating child, each meal that you wouldn't normally choose to eat, each day that you don't feel like swimming, each wasp fight, each moment of joy, each 'Get Right Church,' each off time, each potluck at Smithwick, each Bible Study, each morning you wake up sweating, and each night you lay down in the same state. Because each of those moments will not last. And I assure you, you'll want a few of them back someday no matter how long you currently long for the Saturday mornings.
And for those of you who have felt like me this week, we knew that camp would never be the same again, didn't we? I mean, we knew that it would never be "ours" again, that once we left, we would move on and others would take our places and it would all change? After all, it was different before we got there and ought to continue to grow in different directions once we have gone.
But there’s still something about not being apart of what you worked so hard on for so many years. There’s something about planning and praying and being able to see that come to fruition.
And there's still something about those bonds formed at camp, between counselors and campers alike. There's the Alexa's, the Patsy's, the TeT's, the C.C.'s, the Clifford's that you know you'll never forget, even when you're 80.
There's something about the perspectives you gain and how those seem to dim once you're back in the 'real world'. There's something to be said for the middle-of-the-night trips to the bathroom, the talks on the backporch, worship time for 6 days of the week, the early morning runs, the last hike up the stairs at the end of the day, praying over your campers each night, and falling into bed exhausted, hoping that you made a difference even with one smile, one hug that day.
But there's equally something to be said about having had the opportunity to be apart of something so much bigger than 'us'. Because no matter who is at camp each summer, no matter what time swimming starts, no matter if there is too much or too little rain, no matter how the numbers end up, God is still God. And Camp of the Hills is still God's. (It was never 'ours' to begin with.) And God is still faithful. Always has been, always will be.
So I guess I need to keep reminding myself of that and let God be God and just thank Him for the time He gave me at this little spot on County Road 344.
But I will miss it.
