The Reset Button
I'm about to hit the reset button. Not Chestnut Ridge's, but my own. An occasional ctrl+alt+del is good for the soul.
Odd as it may seem for a camp director, I'm going camping next week. No frills, unless you count the cot and linens. Compared to my usual cocoon-sized backpacking tent, this kind of tent-you-can-stand-up-in is the luxury version of the camping experience. But, it's still camping.
No television. No computer. No phone. No commuting. The lack of so many things that fill the normal days - the noise and business, good as it all is - is replaced with a kind of simplicity that restores the soul.
Conversations, long and unhurried. Leisurely walks and exploratory hikes. The smell of fresh coffee in the morning while the sun comes up. The sound of birds singing their praise. A game of Uno by flashlight. Stories under the moonlight. A time to reconnect by living simply. Immersed in creation and renewing relatationships with my husband, children, and God. A total reset of the system.
It's the gift of time apart, of sabbath. Breaking away to be made whole once more.
Back in a week.
Why I Send My Kids to Camp
It may seem a bit strange that, as a camp director, I was a bit nervous about sending my kids to camp. The first time, I simply sent them "down the hill." (That's Chestnut Ridge lingo for the distance between the director's house where I live and main camp where all the action takes place). Sending them down the hill to camp was a little nerve racking - really. I worried whether they would make friends, have fun, sleep well, and if they would remember to brush their teeth (and if their counselor would remind them - hey, wait! I trained those counselors, of course they would get a reminder). I knew that if they forgot something, I could make the five minute walk to their cabin and drop if off. I would see them every day. Off they went for a week.
Back up the hill, the house felt strangely empty. Quiet, actually. No new piles of clothes accumulated in the laundry - although I knew that was coming on Friday. The sinks in the bathrooms were oddly devoid of splatters and splashes. The number of dishes in the sink dropped dramatically. This confirmed my long-held belief that 1 child does not equal one dish and cup at a meal. Suddenly, I was faced with something I hadn't known since BK (before kids)...I had free time .
So, what's a mom of three to do? In the day-to-day world of being a mom, a wife, and a camp director, the concept of free time falls largely in the realm of fantasy. When I have it, it's usually only enough to squeak in a walk or maybe read a few pages in a book. Now I had whole evenings - blocks of hours - and I could choose my own activity. Not wanting to squander the unexpected gift, I pulled out the photos and memorabilia from the past 12 years and got to work. As I slid pictures into slots and wrote notes about events, birthdays, vacations, and friends, I took stock of the blessings in my life. Thankfulness for my family grew ten-fold that night.
I took one evening to sneak away for a long and scruptuous dinner with my husband. No babysitter necessary. No worries about whether the kids were treating each other alright. We stayed and talked until late in the night. It felt like a first date all over again.
And, I took an evening to have all to myself. I indulged in a long bubble bath, a fuzzy bathrobe, and a good book. Didn't cook dinner. Just put my feet up and relaxed. Really relaxed.
At pickup on Friday, I couldn't wait to wrap my arms around my kids and hear all about their week. (I'd tried to keep a low profile so they could have as normal a camp experience as anyone else). They were so proud of themselves...and I was just a little proud of myself. In our short time away from each other, we'd all grown. I felt renewed and ready to step back into my full-time mom duties. The kids brought home great stories, and a new kind of self-confidence. Suddenly, they were taking more responsibility for their belongings, and helping out around the house. For months, every other conversation mentioned "at camp, we..."
At camp, my kids grew up in the very best of ways. They gained confidence in themselves, trust in others, and a deeper, richer sense of God's love for them as expressed primarily by our summer team. What I didn't expect is that I would have my own camp experience too - a time in my own house where I wandered. I remembered some things about myself and my dreams that renewed me as well. I'm a better mom for it. And, I'll keep sending my kids to camp. My Mamaw used to tell me that, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." I think she was talking about boys at the time, but I'm talking about my kids. I thought I couldn't love them more...and then I sent them to camp...and found I do.