Grammaw Camp Reflections

It's Friday night and I've returned, bone weary, from returning the little sweeties to their parents...and I do not use that term with tongue in cheek. In their eyes and eager faces I have seen them working through the rules, trying to be patient and polite and enjoy being themselves at the same time. I remember being them and hoping to find myself being entertained beyond my wildest dreams only to find I was relegated to the sidelines, listening to the grown ups talk and laugh.

This is why I try every year to set aside time to welcome, love and devote my attention totally to their creative and thirsty minds and spirits. They are true wonders each in his or her own right. Smart, artistic, funny, brilliant, amazing.

The warm evening is beginning to shed the day's overwhelming heat. The symphony of cicadas and tree frogs and various buzzing insects are warming up for the nightly concert. Gone are the shrieks of childish laughter, the slamming of doors and stomping of feet, the giggling girls slamming things in the shower, the noise of the GameCube, all the things that have worn old grandparent nerves to the nubs. We aren't used to all that noise and commotion. It's exhausting. And it feels so silent now. I am happy to retreat back to my quiet, slower paced life, enriched by all the wonders of their youth and exuberance. I am grateful for the reserve of vigor that God has granted me to once more welcome these jewels into my everyday life. I am inspired to have witnessed their beauty, their wit, their artistry, their joy for the few days that they and their parents could spare for my pleasure.

I realize these few days every Summer are only vignettes, samplings of the real persons they are becoming. But these experiences remind me where I started and show me there is truly hope for the future. And their joy and creativity are fuel for this aging spaceship!