In
2008, I was the Offsite Trip Leader for summer camp at Lutherhaven Ministries
in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Midway through the summer, I had a cabin of 7th
and 8th-grade boys in a program that involved camping out in various
locations over the course of the week. The boys were various levels of
miscreant from your typical just-can’t-stop-bothering-the-girls’-cabins to the
stay-up-all-night and raise hell sort. Two of the boys in particular were the
worst—naturally, they were twins. Each night, I would find one or both of them
up at 2 or 3 in the morning pretending to be an animal in the woods, or
throwing rocks at teepees, or trying to sneak off to Lord knows where. This was
not my favorite week of camp counseling.
Which
brings us to Wednesday night… when we had our central worship for the week—a
meaningful service on the beach with the rest of the campers on site for the
week. It was poignant as always, but I was not engaged. Mostly, I was relieved
that there were other staff around to watch out for my terrible campers. I
decompressed for half an hour around the campfire before it was time to make
our way back up the hill to get ready for another night of poor sleep. As we
walked, one of the twins lingered and fell behind the rest of the group so I
slowed along with him. I wish I could say I was checking in on his emotional or
spiritual wellness, but mostly I suspected he was trying to slip away and I was
going to force him to move his butt up that hill before the rest of the boys
got out of sight.
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