Was it surprising when we were told there would be no camp this summer? Not really. Did I still burst into tears? Absolutely.
That same day, after I had called some friends (and both of my parents) to cry a little bit more, I gathered myself and walked to the dock here at Camp. I passed by the gaga ball pit that will miss the huge crowd, the Dining Hall that won’t serve hash brown casserole or host a Clash Meal, and the soccer field that can’t be the home to the final showdown of a Jedi game. The Chapel will be quiet, the tetherballs will be still, and the Big Tree won’t get to see a single camper reluctantly jog toward it first thing in the morning. And that’s okay.
It’s okay to miss camp. It’s alright to be sad when something you’ve looked forward to is taken away. Especially when that one thing is a whole week (or a whole summer) of bliss. Camp is for making life-long friends, for trying new things even when you’re nervous, and for experiencing just how much God loves you in ways that you might not find at home. It’s a place where it’s just fine to be super goofy and super loud, but also to sit and pray with a friend and to ask tough questions. There’s a place for everyone at camp and it’s okay to be sad that it’s gone for a bit.
