I realized yesterday that at the ripe old age of 56 I am too old for camp! I went out to substitute for the cook at the Boy Scout Camp my guys all attended...and I worked at 2 years ago when my middle son was the camp director.
This camp is one of the oldest in the Boy Scout organization in Texas, and of the ones I've seen over the past 20 years, the most beautiful. Breathtaking views of the Brazos River, gorgeous cedars (cough, cough), amazing rock formations...you get the idea.
After one day, my legs and arms are so sore I can hardly move. My friend, the cook, does this for the duration of the camp season...by herself...and I don't know how she does it. Of course the fact that she is 15 years younger than I am probably helps. I just hate that I can't do all the things I used to do without needing two days recuperative thearapy. Even two years ago, I knew I would never be able to be the cook's assistant again...I had a bad elbow and couldn't really close my fists for several months afterward. But I wanted positive proof that I hadn't really just woosed out last year. If there had not been another lady there to help me, I wouldn't have made it. Oh well. Time does march on, doesn't it?
To all of you who staff the camps our children go to from counselors, cooks, directors, etc., thank you for the hard work, accepting low pay, and in the case of this particular camp, the love of the camp and its place in your lives. May you always embody the love of service I have witnessed on your faces. God bless you.