We are in the camp kitchen as I type. I know this because the keyboard is crusted in grease and has food particles between the keys. Such are the joys of having your "office" in the corner of a busy commercial kitchen! Hubby is teaching the girls a valuable skill...how to entertain yourself with a latex glove. Currently everyone is running about with their glove on their hand, inflated with air and pinched off at the wrist. They are all loudly telling stories of smacking their hands with hammers and having said hands "puff up". Oh, now the story has changed to wasp stings. I can't wait until he shows then how to put the thing on your head like a rooster comb (blown up of course)...that'll do wonders on their hair.
I have to admit that life at camp can be amazing at times. Last week was a rough week. I was grumpy (translate to unbearable) and hardly wanted to come to meals and be forced to make nice-nice with anyone who happened to plunk their plate down across from me. Plus the group was challenging as well. I won't say that it isn't a joy to serve, but some folk really tend to bring the joy out more than others. This week we have an amazing group in, with quite a few familiar faces since they've been with us before. They are mostly immigrant Khmer people, who have such incredible suffering in their heritage, yet they are so kind, friendly, and full of joy. Their speaker is a Jamaican man, and he and his wife and son have made friends with our family quickly. He pointed out to us the amazing position that we are in here at camp. How we get to meet, and see in action the variety in Christ's church. And it's true. As we serve, and talk with, and even worship together, we realize that we have far more in common than we ever imagined. Frequently the groups range not only in style of worship or denomination, but also in skin color, culture, and even language. I remember attending a Ukrainian service, all in Russian, and having a teen boy feverishly translating for us and explaining the humor of the skits. I can't remember anything of the service, but only his fervor to share it with us.
So in the midst of all my grumpiness, I am grateful for new friends, who point out the beauty around me. Beauty that I sometimes cease to see, as the landscape becomes so very familiar. And I am thankful for small pleasures...like latex gloves. Otherwise known as cheap toys.
I have to admit that life at camp can be amazing at times. Last week was a rough week. I was grumpy (translate to unbearable) and hardly wanted to come to meals and be forced to make nice-nice with anyone who happened to plunk their plate down across from me. Plus the group was challenging as well. I won't say that it isn't a joy to serve, but some folk really tend to bring the joy out more than others. This week we have an amazing group in, with quite a few familiar faces since they've been with us before. They are mostly immigrant Khmer people, who have such incredible suffering in their heritage, yet they are so kind, friendly, and full of joy. Their speaker is a Jamaican man, and he and his wife and son have made friends with our family quickly. He pointed out to us the amazing position that we are in here at camp. How we get to meet, and see in action the variety in Christ's church. And it's true. As we serve, and talk with, and even worship together, we realize that we have far more in common than we ever imagined. Frequently the groups range not only in style of worship or denomination, but also in skin color, culture, and even language. I remember attending a Ukrainian service, all in Russian, and having a teen boy feverishly translating for us and explaining the humor of the skits. I can't remember anything of the service, but only his fervor to share it with us.
So in the midst of all my grumpiness, I am grateful for new friends, who point out the beauty around me. Beauty that I sometimes cease to see, as the landscape becomes so very familiar. And I am thankful for small pleasures...like latex gloves. Otherwise known as cheap toys.
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