It’s Camp Week

by Angie Nasrallah

July 1 – It’s camp week!

These are beautiful words to a parent’s ear!  Camp week!  It’s here.  That week when the kids pack up their clothes, boots, sleeping bags, towels, and pillows and go have fun while mom and dad get a little time alone and some peace and quiet.

This is the second year my boys are headed off to Camp St. Thekla, an Orthodox Christian summer camp operated by the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Diocese of Miami and the Southeast.  Last year, all we heard for two weeks after camp was how much fun they had, how great their friends were and how they couldn’t wait to do it again.  So, here we go.

Getting ready for camp can be a bit tedious.  There’s the suit cases to pack and only the coolest of t-shirts can go on the trip.   There’s a costume to bring for Decades Night.  There’s mom double checking to make sure deodorant was included.  There’s pillows.  Gabe brought his shredded pillow again which is also shedding stuffing everywhere.  We put a second pillow case on that one.  That was Saturday night.

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Then, of course, there’s Sunday church and the Blessing for the campers!  St. Timothy’s in Toccoa, GA  had 5 going to CST this year.  Father Jacob douses them thoroughly with holy water after he says the prayers.

Then, there’s the road trip up there.  Everyone in the truck, yakking about camp games and counselors and Fr. Alex.  It’s a lively conversation all the way up the twisty, curvy roads to Cleveland, SC.  Alas, we pull into the retreat center.  This is the time when mom gets a little anxious.

“What’s that Cascades thing you were talking about?” I ask.

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“Oh, it’s where they let us jump off a waterfall into a pool of water, about a 50 foot drop,” says my quit witted teen.  “You won’t have to worry about Gabe.  You have to be 13 to go.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” I gasp. “Only one of you has to die.”

“Don’t freak, mom!  It’s not 50 feet and there’s a life guard,” he says with a grin.  “We’ll be fine.”

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So, yes, I do get a tad worrisome, but most of that eases as I meet the counselors and see Father Alex again, the very capable coordinator of this ministry.   Then, I hear screams!  Those screams come from about five different kids running up to Hunter hugging, high fiving and beaming that he’s finally arrived.  He scurries away with them into the sunset, backpack over shoulder, not remembering to look back and say good bye.

It’s all good.

At check in, a friend and mother of six says, “We’re going to Asheville so we can sleep.”

“Good idea,” I agree, thinking about our own quiet week ahead.  It will be nice to sleep and think and breathe!  On the way back to the truck, I catch a glimpse of my youngest; he’s crowded around a busy game of poll ball completely unaware that he has a mamma nearby.

It’s all good.

Moments later, I nudge up into the driver’s seat, husband beside me, unable to help my big smile.  He’s smiling too as we head off together into the sunset.