I Wonder – Hal Goes To Church Camp

The kids are off to summer camp this week. It’s Hal’s first time and he’ll be there all week – at age six. That’s a little younger than the camp usually allows for all week attendance but the half-day camps weren’t the same week as Jane’s and he’s only 3 months too young and I really didn’t want to make the drive twice. And the camp is small and accommodating.

So they are off to camp. Daryl is in the same small cabin as Hal, just on the other side, and Jane’s cabin is across the road. They’ll see each other at meals and probably a lot of other times during the day. Like I said, it’s a small camp. I hope frequent contact with each other is a good thing, not bad. I’m a little worried because Hal’s counselor said that Hal’s group is all at the older end of the age range. I hope they don’t exclude him or find him obnoxious. I have little hope that he’ll brush his teeth or change his underwear, but I guess that’s part of it.

When we were packing for camp, I noticed that the suggested packing list didn’t include pajamas (or shirts or underwear, but I digress). So I told Hal, who usually sleeps in just his underwear, to go get some. I went into his room to help and saw him grabbing his winter fleece alien pajamas.

“Oh, no, Hal,” I said, “you can’t take those to camp! It’s summertime and you’ll be in a cabin and it’s way too hot. Let’s take your summer minion pajamas.”

He clutched the PJ’s to his chest and said in the most pathetic, plaintive voice he could muster, “But someone that I care about very much gave these to me and I really want to take them with me to remember them!”

“Hal, I gave you those pajamas.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “And I care about you very much!”

“Well, that’s good. I gave you the minion pajamas too, so we should be good.”

He wasn’t happy but knew he’d lost the battle. I fully expect to hear all about how the air conditioner in the cabin was run on high and he was freezing all night because I wouldn’t let him take his alien pajamas.

I wonder if he’ll even remember that he has pajamas. I wonder if he’ll be comfortable changing clothes in front of those other boys. I wonder if the counselor will make sure he wears sunscreen. Or his hat. I wonder if he’ll remember to put his dirty clothes in the bag we gave him for that purpose. I wonder if he’ll wash his hair or just stand in the shower. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder.

Funny, I don’t remember wondering this much about the other two their first week at camp. Am I getting old? Or is this just the way it is with the baby of the family? I wonder.

Choosing the Right Summer Camp

Our older two kids were at a church camp last week.  They have never been to this particular one before but since it’s the one for our denomination (Presbyterians), we hoped they would like it.  They both went to a non-denominational, for profit one further away with some friends (also from our congregation) for the two previous years, as well as a Lutheran one before that and Jane had attended a Methodist years ago.

I say all that to demonstrate that we have had a perhaps higher-than-average exposure to a variety of church camps.  The Methodist and for profit ones were very large, the Lutheran one fairly small, and this new one extremely small.  All were in remote wooded areas with cabins.  All were a week long.  All involved some outdoor activities, worship, Bible study, and more.

Our friend that invited us to the for profit camp loves it.  She adores it.  She says it is perfect for her kids and they do indeed love it.  We were not all that comfortable with it the first year but the kids had a good time so we sent them back a second year.  They still liked it that year too but our unease had increased.  When Jane attended a Presbyterian youth conference the following week and said she liked it better than the other camp (which I will now call ‘Camp A’), we decided to make a change.

This year, we sent them to a nearby Presbyterian camp (which I will now call ‘Camp B’).  The friend whose kids go to Camp A said that she had gone to Camp B growing up and felt that Camp A was right for her kids.  To some extent, our differences can be explained simply by personality and preference.  The smaller ones are more to our liking because we like smaller, more intimate settings – that’s why we deliberately chose a small congregation to join.  We don’t like a lot of pomp and circumstance.  We don’t care for big production.

Camp A has counselors lining the road as you drive up, yelling and cheering.  As you get out of the car, you are approached by a counselor with a microphone who asks your camper’s name and then announces it to the camp over a loud speaker.  The kids are bustled into brightly colored two-story cabins with huge animal heads over the doors and a fire pole and slide from the second floor to the first.  There’s a huge flashy water park style area with a big slide, falling water, jungle gym.  The closing ceremony has the camp director bounding up on stage with a microphone and a lot of hype and energy.  It is intoxicating.

That’s for the younger kids.  The older camp appears more subdued.  But we weren’t allowed to accompany Jane to her cabin.  And when she was twelve, her counselor decided that even though her swimsuit was a modest one-piece fitting the guidelines, Jane was simply too well-endowed to be allowed to swim without a shirt on over it.  I’ll be honest – this angered me.  Young girls have such tremendous body image issues and an early-developing girl is particularly self-conscious.  This encounter scarred her.  I had to listen to her tell me for months after how much she hated her breasts.  She’s beautiful but was already learning to hate herself and this camp played a role in that. It smacked of the attitude: Cover up the girls rather than teach the boys.

That was probably the straw that broke the camel’s back for us.  At least, for me.  But we’ve spent a lot of time analyzing our feelings and trying to sort out the rational from the irrational, to make the right decision.  After all, they could attend Camp A with friends.  Camp B, they’d arrive with just each other.

Camp A is expensive.  Through a couple of funding mechanisms, it ends up not being personally that expensive for people from our church, but someone is still paying a lot of money for it.  It’s also a lot farther away: 4 hours one way vs. less than 2 for Camp B.  That means sixteen hours total on the road vs. seven.  They also have theme nights every night, which means you have to acquire special outfits for them to change into in addition to their regular day clothes.  And there’s a snack bar that they can visit every day: more money.  And junk.

Camp B costs considerably less.  It’s closer.  There are not any special wardrobe requirements.  And the snack bar is only open on Saturday when you arrive to pick them up.  In fact, you are specifically told not to send snacks as they are not allowed to have food in the cabins and to not send money as there is no place to spend it.  I see this as fewer distractions and fewer unhealthy behaviors.

These are practical concerns, though, not spiritual or programming.  Surely we’d be willing to spend the extra money and extra time on the road if our children were getting more out of the experience?  Within reason, yes.  So how was this new, very small camp?

They loved it.  I could tell before I even had a chance to talk to Jane that something magical had happened for her.  They both got into the car after the closing worship gushing about how great the camp was.  How it was the best they had ever been to.  How they both want to become interns and then counselors.  They definitely want to come back and how much better it was than Camp A.

Now, I’m not a fool.  They just got done with Camp B – of course it beats the pants off anything they did a year ago.  It’s still fresh on their minds.  They reported loving Camp A too.  Still, I listened carefully to what they said and discovered some insight, I think, into why our family and our friend’s family respond so differently to the notions of the two camps.

Our friend told us that her daughter loves Camp A because “there’s something going on 24/7.  They are always going!  That’s what my kids love!  They are busy kids – they want to be active!”

Our kids are busy too – during the school year.  In fact, I’d say that both families are likely guilty of over-scheduling.  But my kids preferred the slower paced camp.  They liked “Vespers”, where you lay out under the stars and relax, maybe go through some guided meditation, maybe just commune quietly with God.

When the Camp Director at Camp B addressed the parents, he said, “Your kids are the same kids you dropped off here.  We didn’t turn them into Jesus Kids.  They are the same.  Hopefully, we planted a seed that will grow into something in years to come, but we didn’t completely change them in one week.”

And therein lies the difference.  I think Camp A believes that they can make a radical shift in a child’s life on the spot.  They misinterpret (or maybe just misrepresent) the mountain-top high the kids all leave with as something that lasts forever, instead of something that wears off after a few days.  I’m not saying Camp A doesn’t plant a seed too – it does.  I just appreciate the more modest perspective of Camp B.

I also think it’s a mistake to program every minute of a child’s time.  I was watching a video recently where the person was imparting a lot of information.  He was rattling it off quickly and I wanted to consider something he said and process it but I couldn’t or I’d be missing the next point.  It went too fast.  I couldn’t absorb it.  It was enjoyable but not much stuck.  So beyond entertainment, what was the point?

I think that Camp B (and the conference Jane went to) recognizes that kids need downtime to think.  To pray.  To get to know each other. To relax.  To shut off.  To just be.  The fundamental difference between the two camps’ approaches, I think, is a matter of trust.

Camp B trusts the kids to arrive at the right answers if they are given space to get there themselves (with some guidance, of course).  They trust the kids to be responsible if left to choose their own activities.  They. Trust. The. Kids.

Camp A needs to drive the message home.  It needs to tell the kids what to believe, what is right, what is wrong.  It needs to keep them busy so they can’t get into any trouble.

I freely admit that I could be wrong.  After all, my pondering has been about why I think Camp B is better than Camp A, so of course my conclusions are going to trend toward flattering portrayals of Camp B and non-flattering of Camp A.  And my values are going to seem more important, more significant, more weighty than someone else’s, making a camp that more closely matches my values seem more important, more significant, more weighty than one that doesn’t.  I get that.

One final perspective came out of our Dave Ramsey course, specifically the lesson on marketing.  It’s ironic that I’m getting this perspective from there since Dave Ramsey is also highly marketed with a lot of hype.  Then again, he doesn’t fault the marketers for their efforts, he just wants you to be aware of what they are doing and why.

Camp A is marketing itself to me.  All that hype and flash is about selling itself.  To make it seem special and unique and bigger than life so that I will bring my kids back.  Because, let’s face it, if the kids don’t come, the camp doesn’t pay the bills and doesn’t make a profit for the owners.  And if that happens too many years in a row, they have to shut the doors.

But isn’t that true for Camp B, you ask?  Kinda sorta.  But being part of a denomination and supported by some churches means that is has some funding sources to draw on.  And since it isn’t drumming up all that hype, its expenses are much less.  Marketing is expensive.

To me, it’s like going to Disney World vs. a family get-together.  Yeah, Disney World is a big deal and exciting and fun… but family is family.  And family doesn’t have to keep me busy.  I can just enjoy their company.

And that’s what my kids did last week.  With just under 50 kids in the whole camp – all age ranges – they knew everybody.  Everybody.  By name.  And loved them all.  And enjoyed their company.  And that’s worth more than a water park and a high ropes course any day of the week.

A Really Good Spice

“Hey, mom! Look! A tobacco store! Can we stop and get some tobacco?!”

Now, this is a phrase that you don’t want to hear from any of your children. Ever. It’s also a phrase that you don’t even expect to hear from your child when he is only nine years old. But more importantly, it’s a phrase that you never, ever want to hear while riding in a car with a church friend, her mother, and her two kids returning from church camp.

That, of course, is exactly when the phrase was uttered by my dear sweet Daryl. The car got very quiet.

“I like tobacco,” he explained.

More silence.

“It’s a really good spice.”

More silence.

“I put tobacco sauce on all my food. It’s so good!”

“Do you perhaps mean Tabasco sauce?” asked my friend.

This time the silence was Daryl’s as he struggled to work out what he had been saying wrong. And then everyone burst out laughing.

“I had them backwards!” he explained. “I thought tobacco was what I put on food and Tabasco was what you put in pipes!”

Well, dear, we are very relieved you had them backwards. Very relieved.