Summer Camp.

Zero bars. Diet Cherry Coke. Skittles.

Smashing Pumpkins. Plumb. Fleming and John.

Trees. Bibles. Diving Board competitions. Campfires.

Cute boys. Scrunches. The Order of the Fork. Rock,Paper, Scissor People.

The last few weeks have reminded me of summer camp. And not just any summer camp, but those amazing years I spent at Camp Kirkwood in Ohio as a teen. In true Harry Potter style, a Diet Cherry Coke was my “portkey” back to camp. As soon as I opened the Coke, it took me to the lodge during free time with my friends after we had spent several dollars at the canteen. I hadn’t thought about camp in such a long time, and it was a sweet memory. It actually made me smile...and if I’m being honest, I shed a few tears.

I’ve been thinking of people I miss, friends that I had, and the few “besties” that promised to never stop talking. There were the tattoos we’d promised to get, and my friend Robyn actually did. She’s so awesome and I was nervous she’d make me own up to my promise too. But she didn’t.

I remember sneaking out of Cabin Lydia- pushing the screen out of the window and running through the mud to meet our friends (uh..guys) out under the trees with the moonlight shining through. I remember carrying my flashlight through the trail to the campfire. I remember Jonathan and Bryan, my two camp crushes, and my favorite counselors Julie and Wil. I remember the summer I spent working at camp and the scar that still remains from that stupid saran wrap box.

Those were the days where we had to hand write letters to our camp friends who lived miles apart in different towns. There were no cell phones, no instant message, no texting. Each year we would gather back together and the celebration was sweet and sometimes unnerving as we wondered if those friends would remember each other.

It was at that camp that I learned to trust God, to really see Him and experience Him. It holds a special place in my heart as the foundation of my faith story.

And I guess that’s one of the reasons why I’m in youth ministry. I hope to provide experiences like this for our students. I want them to experience God in these places. To experience fun and friends, and make plans for getting “bestie” tattoos. (ok, maybe not the tattoos). I want them to sit around the campfire and “see” God, to take it all in, and be able to look back when they are 31 and smile, thank God, and maybe shed a tear or two.

To all my camp people, I miss you and 1994-1998.