Monday, July 22, 2013

Hank's going to camp this week.  He loves camp.  It brings back camp memories at Idyllwild, where a forest fire is threatening now.  My grandmother was the campfire storyteller for many years.  She would dress like a Navajo woman and tell a continued Indian story every night.  I would swell with pride that she was MY grandmother.  A cousin was in my cabin, and we even won the best cabin award; in fact, I was chosen for my cabin's Indian princess award.  I wore the feather with pride.  Crafts were awesome.  I still have the 10" X 18" black and white photo of all of us campers: it is getting to be quite vintage now.  Yet, I was never so happy to pack to go home...until I found the shiny black widow in my dull black metal suitcase with the leather handle.  I smashed it all by myself, cleaned off its guts, and finished packing quietly.  That settled it  I decided that there is no place like home.  I never went back to camp again, even when my cousin, mother, or grandmother asked. 

We spent many a year at family camp where Hank is going and loved it.  Not even the scorpions in the cabin could keep me away.  But, I won't tell Hank about those quite yet.  I wouldn't want to spoil his camp fun.

Holding my grandmother Pocahantas' hand in Jamestown.
"O that I had in the desert
A wayfarers' lodging...
Jeremiah 9:2
"Oh, that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.
Behold, I would wander far away,
I would lodge in the wilderness."
Psalm 55:6
 We all need to get away for R & R,
even if little boys going to camp can't quite be compared
 to a distressed prophet or a king in hiding like David. 
But, you never know when a scorpion or a black widow might share your cabin.

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