I’m packing up for church camp and I feel like I should be calling all my friends and deciding who’s bunking with who and what we’re all wearing and what cute boys will be there. But instead, I’m trying to figure out if I have everyone’s forms and if I called in the right numbers so that all the kids have beds and if anyone has any weird medical conditions that I need to be aware of. And I’m wondering, when did I become an adult in this situation? My aunt (pictured with me below) took us all to camp for years and it was so much fun. I started going the year I turned 9 and some of my best summer memories have been made there. And, so now I take kids to the same camp I went to, so they can have those same memories. Actually, if we want to get down to the facts, I never stopped going. I turned 9 my first year I went and I’m turning 24 this week. So, I think that’s 15 years (someone might want to check my math). My birthday always falls during camp week too, which is an added bonus. And, I forgot to mention that Sherri and I share a birthday, so this is us on our birthday last year at camp. Not only am I taking our kids to camp, but I have been appointed as the activities director for our week. I don’t know if I look active, but let me say this now: there is nothing about me that qualifies me for this position. I’m not super athletic or graceful or even that well organized. What happened was that I was supposed to be helping with activities a few years ago and then the lead position fell to me. And they keep asking me to do it again. I don’t know how to ref basketball games or set up brackets, but they have me running the basketball tournaments. I don’t know how to play or score tether ball, but why not appoint me to manage a tetherball tournament? I don’t know anything about horseshoes, but throw in a horseshoe tournament. You get the picture. One thing I am good at: delegating. Which is the only reason why I manage to handle any of this. Church camp is fun. It’s completely exhausting, running on a little sleep and a lot of coffee, early mornings and afternoon meltdowns. More than that though, it is one time in my life that I can point to that helped me begin to discover who I was. Not only who I was as a person, but who I was in Christ, my spiritual identity. Because of Him, I am loved. I am blameless. I am free from sin and guilt and shame. His mercy and grace make me new. I want to share that experience with these girls. I want them to begin their journey here.