Teaching my kids the Truth about Heaven

8
Nov

Today’s post is a lazy (or pragmatic) woman’s attempt to kill two birds with one stone. Lisa-jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday has become part of the rhythm around here, and I’ve enjoyed the community involved there. This month I’m also participating in an online book club organized by Abi Bechtel. We’re reading Telling God’s Story by Peter Enns. Therefore, today’s post is based on the word prompt “Truth” and the first thing that came to mind was informed by book club, so I’m hybridizing the two.

Set the timer to five minutes.

Ready.

Set.

GO.

Two nights ago my son asked me about heaven.

He asked if it was really gold.

He said he used to feel scared of it, but now he feels better because he read in a kids booklet that there’s no crying or sickness there. This was a relief.

Then he did it. He asked what happens to the people who don’t have Jesus in their heart when they die. Do they go to heaven?

I want to be truthful, but I want to give him security. How can I do both when I feel like there is such a broad cannon of interpretation within Christendom? How can I tell him the questions in my own heart about the strict interpretation I was trained to accept? How do I tell him what is true?

The words of a former professor, Greg Boyd, popped into my head. I studied with him while at Bethel for more than one class, but his World Religions class was the scene of this truth bomb. I have come back to it again and again.

He said something similar to this, but this is not an exact quote…

Imagine you are a beggar with a loaf of bread. Another beggar comes to you holding a loaf of bread. It is moldy and dry. The beggar is breaking off bits and eating them. You say to him, “That bread may make you sick. It may not. But I can tell you for sure that the bread I have is good. It is life giving and you will not get sick from it.” And you share your bread with the man.

It goes along with the concept of there being a wideness in God’s mercy, which I love.

So what did I tell my son?

I told him that many many people who love the Lord have studied the Bible for years and years. These people have come up with different ideas about what it says. I gave him a couple short examples of what I meant.

I told him it is up to God to decide about who hangs out in heaven with Him, and He wants everyone, but that the simplest, most straightforward, reading exactly what the Bible says, is by asking Jesus into your heart…which he’s already done.

It’s not a fantastic answer.

Bread (Photo credit: CeresB)

Is it true?

Yes, sort of.

See what I mean?

STOP

*****

Sorry if this was hard to follow today. It was hard to corral my thoughts into a linear, succinct form.

May I ask how you interpret some of the hard, fast rules of entrance into the pearly gates? If you are a person of faith, how has your understanding changed from when you were a child? How do you handle the Big Questions of faith with your kids?

Sunday School and November Book Club

29
Oct

High Bank, Denby. Derelict Methodist Sunday School Building. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Most of my life has been punctuated by Sunday School.

There were the many years when I participated in it.

There were the years when I was the teacher.

Now there are these years when my children go each week.

And it never really occurred to me to ask “why” about Sunday School until recently.

My dad, a retired ordained minister in the Covenant church, made the comment recently that Sunday School is a modern creation born of a desire to provide a place for children to learn to read since they were working every other day of the week. (Here’s a link to get the short version of Sunday School’s development: http://bit.ly/17uv3sB)

As someone who has grown up in the church, worked in various youth programs, and been responsible to create curriculum for those programs, I know that the regular idea is to make lessons that show God’s acitivity in the world, and use the scriptures to teach character lessons.

I wonder if I was coming at it all wrong.

In my conversation with my dad, it came up that you really don’t want to use a lot of “Bible Heroes” as such because they were a mess. Lessons ought to focus on how many mistakes these people made and yet God was able to accomplish great things through them, because He is great.

Instead, we usually focus (for example) on how David was “a man after God’s own heart” and gloss over his adultery and scheming, including arranging to have his competition sent to the front lines in order to get him killed.

Dude was sketchy at best.

Here’s another example. At our church a few months ago they wanted to teach about friendship so for some reason they chose the story of Job. If you’re familiar with the story, Job goes through some really hard trials. His friends hang with him for a while, but then they basically tell him to throw in the towel.

The lesson taught only focused on the first part of the story, and happily the teacher chose not to include the detail that God allowed Satan access to Job. My first and third graders were not ready to deal with that information. It was a poorly planned lesson that pick and chose details for their illustration of the point the creators were going for, regardless of whether that was the point of the actual Bible story.

All of this is to say that there might be a better way to go about teaching our kids about the Bible.

In the month of November I’m going to participate in an online book club. The book we’re going to read is Peter Enn’s Telling God’s Story (http://bit.ly/1coKmHn). I haven’t read any his books before, but it sounds like this book has a different take on teaching the Bible to kids.

The premise of Telling God’s Story is that for 1-4^th graders the focus should be on learning all about Jesus, then 5-8^th graders focus on the overall narrative of Israel, and high schoolers focus on the Bible’s historical context. I’m really interested in exploring a new approach to valuing the Bible and teaching it in a way that honors it.

I’ll be blogging about book club, and the fabulous woman hosting it is Abi. She’s a riot and is on a really interesting journey that I resonate with in many ways. If you’re interested in reading along with us via her blog, you can find it here: http://bit.ly/1aQVwOB It would be fun to do this together!

What are your memories of Sunday School? Was there a point when you started having friends there, rather than just merely sitting next to other kids? What’s your view of Sunday School now?

Sunday School, Chicago, IL, USA (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Shorts as Battlefield

30
Sep

“I’m not wearing them.”

My son had no other clean shorts.

The only other clothes for his lower half were a pair of jeans.

It was forecasted to be 80 degrees.

He runs hot.

Jeans were not an option.

“What is wrong with them? You liked them when we bought them, they look nice on you, so what’s the problem?” I demanded.

“They’re too fancy. They’re church shorts,” he answered.

This coming from the kid who never has to dress up for church. He associates anything other than basketball shorts with “dressing up”. If only he knew what real “dressing up” was, he would not complain.

This is also coming from the kid who usually just grabs whatever from the drawer and throws it on without much thought.

The other two kids had their teeth brushed and backpacks loaded.

Princess Teacup needed to put on her socks and get her hair pulled up.

Bobo was already out the door, waiting for the bus.

The bus was due to come in three minutes.

‘I am willing to go down with this ship,’ I thought.

I had already explained how the shorts he pulled out of the dirty clothes hamper were in there because they were d.i.r.t.y. And if they’d been put in the hamper while they were NOT dirty, then that was too bad ’cause they’d been smushed up against dirty stuff and were now dirty by association. The blue khaki shorts were his only option, but Rex had decided they were a non-contender.

He was now in his bed, refusing to get dressed.

The bus came at 8:18 on the dot. Now it is this time:

Rather than being on my child who is now on the bus, this is where I find important items:

I Am Willing to Die on This Hill

For clarification purposes I should probably let you know that about a week ago I warned my boys that if they didn’t clean up their room by a specific time I would clean it, and all the stuff I cleaned up would go away for a while. I wouldn’t throw it out or donate it, but it would just “go away” for an irritating amount of time.

They cleaned up what their eyes saw, and later on I cleaned up everything that my eyes saw.

Let’s just say there was a lot of stuff in my bag.

Amongst all the toys, there were many articles of clothing in my bag, probably some of the shorts that Rex was now missing.

There are a couple things I would like to get on the record.

I am not an unreasonable person , not a control freak in any way.
I do not have rigorous standards with my children.
It is reasonable for kids to put dirty clothes in the hamper rather than on the floor.

Thanks, I feel better now that you know.

Since I am the person who does the laundry, I don’t appreciate washing clean clothes just because the hamper was the location that required less effort than folding a still-clean shirt and putting it back in the drawer. Am I crazy? Do all the other moms wash clothes even thought they aren’t dirty? Do I have an unfair expectation here?

I say thee Nay!

People of the cloth and soap, we must rise up against the forces that would demand we wash perfectly clean clothes! Think of the wasted time, electricity, water and detergent!

Nay!

After a brief cooling-off period, I returned to his room and told Rex I had come up with a compromise. If he would just put on the shorts, I would tell him what it was. He put them on, and I started to tell him the compromise, but once he had them on, he immediately realized that they are comfortable shorts.

He has friends who wear similar shorts.

He can still move in the shorts.

He likes the shorts.

I could just pinch him.

The crisis now averted, we loaded up the car and I backed out of the driveway.

He stretched out his ever-growing legs, propped them up on the armrests which are usually protected by his siblings and said,

“Ah, now I can lay out and relax. Maybe I should do this every day.”

The look I gave him in the rearview mirror made him grin and say, “But I won’t.”

Do you have battles with anyone in your family? How do you decide which things to let go? Do you have any tricks to help kids (or adults) keep their rooms clean?

Five Minute Friday: Small

16
Aug

She’s just so small.

Her hands still have their toddler pudge.

She says “grateful” when she means “great” but I think the two belong together so I never correct her.

She is quick to share, first to offer encouragement, she’s her brothers’ biggest fan.

She tries to do cartwheels and only gets partially upside-down, as if she’s mostly flinging her legs sideways over a puddle, but when she stands afterwards, she glows with pride.

She comes out of her room wearing her pink stripped slippers and filmy robe with the elastic that’s too tight around her forearms where the sleeves land since she’s outgrowing it but can’t let it go.

Can’t let it go.

How can I let her go, even for those few hours every.single.day. ?

She’s my sidekick.

My shadow.

My sweetie.

She’s too small to be so big.

But she’s ready. I know this. I’ve seen her. But letting her go feels like feeding her to the bears,

bears of cliques,

bears of rejection,

bears of politics in friendships,

and there are far worse bears in those woods that I don’t dare speak aloud.

I don’t send her alone, and I know this. Jesus walks alongside her. She knows this too.

But when that bus pulls away from our house on her first day of school, you’d better believe I’ll peal out of our driveway in the minivan, close on her heels, waving to her like a fool.

***

Before I forget, yesterdays post contained my first giveaway so if you want to win a beautiful scarf from Trades of Hope, be sure to check that out. Today’s post is part of a linkup with Lisa-jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com ) and is open to anybody who wants to participate. Five Minute Fridays are a lot of fun, so if writing and finding other good blogs is your thing, be sure to look her up.

As always, thanks so much for taking the time to come by today. I know there are a lot of other things vying for your time, and I appreciate you!

Should I Lie to My Daughter About Kindergarten Shots?

7
Aug

Today my daughter has a well-child doctor appointment. She’s healthy, growing well. She finally eats more nutritious things so I think I can say with confidence we’re out of the phase when the only fruit or veggie she’d eat was applesauce and the occasional banana. I have no doubt that she’ll get a glowing report of her progress since her last well-child check up.

The problem is kindergarten.

Princess Teacup starts kindergarten next month.

Unless you’re a conscientious objector and fill out the correct forms, all kids must have their immunizations up to date in order to start kindergarten.

Immunizations mean shots.

There’s no “maybe” about it. I know for a fact that she’s due for them and that she’ll get the shots (probably four) today at the appointment.

When I mentioned it to her in passing two weeks ago — you know, just let her know the possibility of shots was out there for her as part of the milestone of starting kindergarten — she turned red and tears filled her eyes. She promptly ran to her room, hid under her covers and shouted, “I just want to be alone right now!”

You can see why I haven’t brought it up again.

This has made me weigh different options in my mind. Princess Teacup has two older brothers, and in the past I’ve tried to keep them informed of what to expect, how to handle getting a shot, etc. with a lot of lead time so they could get used to the idea and we could talk about how to get through it.

That didn’t work so well.

The oldest specifically said he wished he hadn’t know about the shots until they were about to do them. This comes from a kid who tends to worry, so by the time the shots came, he had built up the event until it was a scheduled amputation rather than a round of immunizations.

I think I’ve tried to block it from my memory but if I try hard I can remember a couple nurses holding him down during that appointment.

Things with the second are a little foggy, but I’m pretty sure I told him about his appointment a few days before. I remember saying I wasn’t sure what was going to happen but shots were a possibility. I felt a little more comfortable with some fuzziness around the edges of truth on that one (I knew full well he was going to need shots) but not all the way willing to tell him he wasn’t going to get shots.

Princess Teacup is our last person to enter kindergarten. Will I lie and assure her she will not need shots as we enter the clinic? Will I soothe her with falsehood as we sit in the waiting room and watch the fish tank? Will I look her in the eye and feign shock when, during the appointment, the nurse or doctor informs us immunizations are necessary?

It’s a strong possibility.

One thing I’m totally sure of: there will be huge amounts of ice cream afterwards. I’ll bring her favorite stuffed animal to the doctor’s office so she’ll have it if she wants it. I’ll have suckers in my purse and she can play games on my phone all she wants.

Bribery? Guilt offering? Soothing my guilty conscience?

Maybe.

But I’m okay with that…for today.

Do you have any vivid memories of getting shots as a kid? If you have kids, how do they handle difficult doctor’s appointments? Concerning stressful events, do you think it is better for kids to have a lot of information ahead of time or not much, and why?

Five Minute Friday: Story

2
Aug

You might have noticed that on Fridays I have started to link up with Lisa-jo Baker (lisajobaker.com) pretty consistently. She hosts a Five Minute Friday blog prompt and it has been a great way to connect with others (online) around the country. It is easy to feel like you’re operating in a vacuum when your little blog gets few comments, and when blogging is something you quietly plug away at with the hopes it will matter someday. Five Minute Friday is one way I’ve found to connect with others who are also exploring this blogging thing in various ways, and if you are at all interested in finding encouragement and really great people, I suggest you check it out.

Here’s how it works. Check her site for the word prompt. Start your timer. Write for five minutes and five minutes only. Don’t worry about it all making sense or being perfect. This is an exercise whose goal is to release you from all that doubt. Write for the fun of it. Now link it up so we can all benefit from your unedited brilliance.

Today’s prompt: Story.

Ready.

Set.

Go.

***

I can’t think of this word without Donald Miller’s book jumping into my head. Love him or hate him (or somewhere in between) he wrote a compelling book about story, and about changing your life’s story, Million Miles in A Thousand Years.

It informs the way I talk about family with my children.

See, as a kid it never dawned on me that I had a contribution to make to the ethos of my family. All my parent’s lines of “He’s your brother so he’s your best friend” fell on mostly deaf ears. I focused only on myself and on how I could relate to people outside my household, and didn’t pay much attention to how I related to my younger siblings (I’m oldest of four kids). Mostly they annoyed me and I tolerated them with the aggrieved air of my teenaged angst.

When my husband and I talk about family with our three kids today, we talk about creating the kind of family you want. We talk about their role as co-creators. We talk about all members having an important role to play. We talk about how one person doesn’t get to decide for the whole family what that family is going to be like.

They have a voice.

And because they have a voice, that gives them some power. Their input is valued.

Is this family a democracy?

Heck no.

It’s a dictatorship, with my husband and I as benevolent tyrants.

But we listen.

And we explain.

And we encourage.

And we try again.

Our family is not a set in stone family, one that has rules and traditions that must.not.be.broken. We try stuff, we let it go, we forget, we pick it up again if it worked, if it didn’t, we cast it aside and let it roll under the couch along with the other rogue Legos, single socks and tumbleweeds. But we all have a role to play. The story that is our family will be shared by my husband and I as well as Rex, Bobo and Princess Teacup. Maybe not equally shared yet, but shared and co-created alongside our Creator.

***

STOP.

What was your role in your family growing up? What kind of story you are creating with your life every day? What is one way today you could create the life-story you desire?

Secret Indredient Soup, Part 2: What’s Your Missing Ingredient?

25
Jul

My mom is a great cook. No, I mean it. When my mom gets going she lays out a spread of dishes that, when taken together, represent the depth of her care for the people she’s entertaining. (She’s also wickedly funny, but that’s for another day.) She has a gift for cooking intuitively, and she sticks only to the bare essentials of a recipe. After she’s got those taken care of she wings it, adding a little of this, a dash of that, so she couldn’t tell you exactly how to replicate the recipe she served. Even soup becomes multi-faceted with complex flavor profiles (thank you, Top Chef, for altering my terminology so I could say something more than, “This tastes yummy.”). You could try to follow her recipe, but it will never end up tasting as good as what she made.

Contrast that with my dear friend who we’ll call Velveeta, who is also a good cook but cooking without a recipe would drive her bonkers. When the two of us were out of town together and wanted to make a raspberry brie appetizer, it seemed pretty straightforward – you spread raspberries and rosemary on top of a wheel of Brie and wrap it all in pastry dough. It was Velveeta who felt compelled to phone her husband and ask him to find the recipe in her cookbook. She thoroughly relied on it. And because of that she has consistently solid results and you can be sure that her recipe card will include all the ingredients.

Let’s go back to Kung Fu Panda.

When Po, the panda who has been chosen as the Dragon Warrior, worked at his father’s noodle shop, he was never given the recipe for his father’s signature Secret Ingredient Soup. Oh, and Po’s dad is a duck.

Does your life ever seem like you’ve been given a recipe that’s missing an important ingredient?

When Po thinks he can’t handle being the Dragon Warrior and the whole valley has to evacuate, Po talks to his dad about his sense failure. He even admits to his dad that sometimes he wonders if he’s even his son.

His dad takes the opportunity to tell Po something he should have told him long ago…the secret to his Secret Ingredient Soup.

Dad: The secret ingredient is…nothing. There is no secret ingredient.

Po: Wait – what? It’s just plain old noodle soup? Doesn’t it have some kind of special sauce or something?

Dad: To make something special you just have to believe it’s special.

Po: There is no secret ingredient…

Is that a cheap parlor trick or is it more true than we like to admit?

If there’s no secret ingredient, that means that I can take responsibility for my own path.

If there’s no special sauce, I can’t claim that I don’t have the right background or upbringing to achieve my dream.

If there’s no special ingredient, then (gulp) I’m all my kids’ve got.

Sometimes it is easier to throw up our hands and complain about the cards we were dealt. But if we were all dealt the same hand, then the thing that matters is what we do with it..with that hand…

I mean, that deck of cards…

Wait…

Ugh, you know what I mean.

It is easy to find reasons why things don’t go well, if that’s what you’re looking for. In this scenario reasons = excuses. There’s usually somebody to blame, even if it’s a stretch to make the blame fit. It is a huge departure when we believe that we have what it takes to get it done, to achieve it, to create it, to find that solution.

Truthfully, it is a bit terrifying.

Po from Kung Fu Panda (Photo credit: Antony Pranata)

If I start thinking I have what it takes, who will I blame if things go wrong?

If I start taking responsibility for the course of my life, what will I do if it doesn’t go my way?

Don’t worry about that just yet. Let’s review the beauty of the Kung Fu Panda lesson.

“To make something special, you just have to believe it’s special.”

I’m gonna get all up and personal in here for a second.

Scoot your chair in closer.

“YOU are special.”

Yes, I’m talking to YOU.

I know. You’re going to tell me all the reasons you’re not. All the reasons I’m wrong. All the things that prove that I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Shhh….

You’re not listening.

To make something special, you just have to believe it’s special.

You may not think you have what it takes. But you do. You may have to dig deep into your personal reserves. You may have to let go of some other things that have been getting in your way (ie. excuses, self-protection, sleep) but you can do it.

Remember, there is no secret ingredient.

As you read the stories of people who have achieved their dreams, sure there are sometimes when they happened to be in the right place at the right time. But frequently that was able to happen because they got out of bed and made themselves available many times prior to that occasion.

What about the moms out there who are not convinced that they can do this mom thing?

You aren’t missing a crucial “mom-gene” that other people received when all those hormones washed over them during pregnancy. You can do this mom thing. You have what your kids need. If you feel that you are lacking, welcome to the sisterhood my friend, because most of us feel we are lacking in at least one area of our parenting. Be the best you that you can be, work on those areas you know are weak, don’t allow your issues to become your child’s issues, and when you screw up (which you will, we all do) admit it and try again.

Maybe a more accurate kung fu statement is that YOU are the secret ingredient. Not your neighbor, not your partner, not your cubicle-mate, not your mammy, not your granny.

You are the secret ingredient.

So put yourself into the recipe of your life like broccoli in the LeAnn Chin Broccoli Beef (’cause we all know there’s hardly any beef to be found in there). Don’t hold back. Trust yourself. Learn. Listen. Try.

You got this.

What is the secret ingredient you feel you’ve been lacking? What goals do you have that seem out of reach? What would be impacted if you changed your mindset and started to believe that there was no secret ingredient?

“Tonkotsu + shoyu” not only did the perky staff create a friendly eating atmosphere but they also flavored my soup with a secret ingredient while carrying my food to the table (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Back From Camp and Back To Reality

25
Jun

Coming home from camp is hard.

There you are. For a few glorious days you wear what you want, make personal choices without intervention from a bossy adult, and are provided constant stimulation specifically designed for you.

Courtesy of morgueFiles http://mrg.bz/8UGtzl

It’s a little taste of kid heaven.

And then you return to the reality of parents who make you change your underpants, brush your teeth, use bug spray, and expect appreciation for food they prepare for you that you don’t even like.

It’s an unreasonable expectation.

Poor kids. They’ve got it rough.

From a kid’s perspective though, it is hard to go from camp’s activity and freedom back to the confines of his former life. It’s a little bit like trying to get your arms through a shirt that’s a size too small. With some contortions, you can do it, but it’s gonna feel squeezy.

As a parent, it is important for me to remember what it felt like to return to reality. When I came home after a camp experience, I felt confined, as if I had regressed and had my liberties taken away prematurely. Everything bugged me, my siblings and parents most of all. There were memories and inside jokes that no one else understood. And most of all, home was B*O*R*I*N*G. Where was the zip line and canoe trips up Hidden River? How could I be expected to keep up a positive attitude under such conditions?

Part of what makes camp so amazing is being a part of experiences that are both unique and shared. If you did that zip line all by yourself, it isn’t quite the same as doing it with a friend, the freaking out and communal terrification ahead of time (I made up that word – feel free to use it amongst yourselves) and the jumping jubilation on wobbly legs afterwards. Sharing the experience is part of what makes it so meaningful. And if the people you shared with are no longer accessible, there is a definite feeling of homesickness for them, homesickness for someplace other than home.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Our schedule happened to work out with the kids doing a three hour sport activity every morning this week, immediately following their time at camp. It’s too early to say if this is a good or bad thing. (Let’s just say that Bobo decided he wouldn’t go today, so maybe that’s an indicator? He assures me that he’ll participate tomorrow. We’ll see…) It is either a stroke of accidental brilliance, or extreme stupidity.

No matter what, I need to keep in mind that they will need some extra space and patience from me this week as they readjust. And maybe I can venture to give them a degree of greater independence since they’ve crossed the bridge of being away from home and family for a few nights. I’m not giving any guarantees, but I can try.

Do you have any suggestions on how to help kids who might be missing camp? How do you handle the return to routine when you’ve been somewhere special?

Five Minute Friday: Rhythm

21
Jun

Today’s post is part of Five Minute Friday. Lisa-jo Baker gives us a word prompt, we set the timer for five minutes, and write. Let go of perfectionism and overthinking, and just write. You can jump in too — check out the website: http://lisajobaker.com

Today’s word: Rhythm

Summer takes on a different rhythm.

Kids stay in their jammies until lunch.

Dishes can wait.

From http://mrg.bz/L5RyFF

Drop everything for a last minute trip to the park to meet friends.

Going to an activity at 9:00am, even one they want to do, feels like the crack of dawn instead of being an hour later than the bus’s arrival during the school year.

Getting anywhere on time seems more difficult because we’re all in slow motion.

But this is the rhythm that allows us to blow bubbles on the front porch,

Read one more story,

Repair the fort made of sheets and cushions,

And snuggle a few minutes more.

It’s a slower pace that lets us spend our time together and everyone gets their moment.

STOP

What changes for your family during summertime? How do you balance down time versus planned activities?

Five Minute Friday: Rhythm (aftertheecstasythelaundry.wordpress.com)

My Kids First Time At Camp

20
Jun

It was 1:30am. My husband slept peacefully beside me. The dog snored from his spot on the floor. The breeze gently stirred the room.

Something was wrong.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

No fans producing background noise.

No nightlights.

No sound of someone flipping over in the bed down the hall, no sound of a hard-backed turtle toy bumping into the wall as someone shifted the sheet.

It was unnerving.

As I tried to make myself sleep, I kept thinking about my two oldest children, Rex and Bobo (special names for them), away at camp for the first time.

Were they going to fall out of their bunk beds?

Were they going whizz in said bunk bed?

Were they going to wake up disoriented in the middle of the night, wonder where they were? Would they cry out for me?

Would their counselor know how to comfort them?

Yeah, and let’s talk about this “counselor” guy anyway.

Who is this child who happens to be taller than me? He looks like a eight year old, with his adorable sprinkle of freckles and quick smile. I bet he hopes he’s setting my fears to rest with that confident conversation and quick demonstration of kind authority, but he can’t do that while looking like a boy dressed in his father’s business suit. How can I entrust my children to this baby? His brain isn’t even fully developed yet!

This is all coming from a person who attended or worked at camps from the age of 9-25.

When I look back at who I was while I worked at camp, I am forced to concede that my boys are probably going to be fine while they’re away over the next few days. The people I worked with at camp were some of the most dedicated, creative, passionate people I’ve ever known. They bent over backwards and literally drove through fire to make camp a spectacular event for each child there.

[I mean it when I say fire. For some reason we thought it would be a great idea and dramatic entrance to a skit to have someone zoom a motorcycle through a line of fire, skid to a stop, and have the passenger, sans helmet, jump off the back. Let’s just say there were a lot of guardian angels flying around that summer.]

That’s the other thing I am quick to forget…

It isn’t only humans at work at camp. God is at work too.

So while I reorganize and try to distract myself from worrying they’ll come home covered in mosquito-bite welts, God reveals more of Himself, draws them closer, independent of the guidance my husband and I provide at home. And this is one of my greatest prayers and desires: that my children would invest in and cultivate their own dynamic relationships with God, independent of my own faith.

Camp is a great way to take that first step of releasing them to do this.

Even if it keeps me awake every night all week.

I’d love to hear some favorite memories of your experience with camp. Do you have any coping suggestions for the mom of some first-timers? How did you and your kids handle it?