I reported for duty in the kitchen at noon yesterday, not sure what to expect of the day. What will it be like to work with these young men? How will they feel about having a stranger enter into the comfortable rituals of the kitchen that they’ve already established? An older woman, no less! Will my presence be a restraining one? I hoped not.

Caleb greeted me, letting me know that with a cap on my head, shoes on my feet, and a shirt with short sleeves, I was fully outfitted for the day. He fetched me an apron, told me where to wash my hands and instructed me to put on a pair of plastic gloves. He set me to work on filling bowls with CCP, kitchen lingo for Celery, Carrots and Pickles, items that are put out for both lunch and supper. I also filled peanut butter bowls. The presence of fresh bread, peanut butter, and jelly on the table has been a real treat for me. I love PBJ sandwiches! But I hardly ever eat them. I’ve indulged myself this week by making a half PBJ to eat with lunch and supper. Even having three meals a day is a bit of an indulgence, since we’ve gotten into the habit at home of eating just two.

In the absence of young head cook Daniel (17), Josh (18) was in charge of the kitchen. We worked on putting mayo, turkey and cheese into buns that had been soaked briefly in melted butter. The sandwiches were to be baked in the oven. A controversy arose when a couple of the younger table waiters discovered that the plan was to put mustard and onions in the sandwiches as well. Objections were voiced, along with the suggestion that we put those things out on the tables for people to add if they so desired. “Not everyone likes mustard and onions,” said one fellow sensibly. The decision rested with Josh, who assumed the mantle of leadership by deciding to put the questionable items out separately. Well done!

It was a relaxed atmosphere in the kitchen. We chatted easily and joked with each other. Caleb was playing some classic rock as a playlist for our work, while Grisha, when he wasn’t helping, watched something on his phone. Lunch (1:15 p.m.) came and went: the sandwiches, in all their buttery glory, were tremendous! Josh told me to come back at 4:00 to help prep for supper: pizza and caesar salad.

By the time I came back at 4:00, I was feeling less like a complete newbie; plus I was really enjoying the company of these young guys. They are all friendly and easy going – not a sour note in the whole song. Supper was at 6:30, so we had plenty of time to work on getting the pizzas ready to bake and cutting up lettuce for the salad. Josh sauced the pizza crusts, Grisha sprinkled them with shredded mozzarella, and Caleb and I added the pepperoni. Caleb took some artistic liberties in making one pizza look like it had eyes and a nose. This is just the kind of quirkiness that I appreciate.

During a lull in the prep time, Caleb and Grisha folded and sorted the kitchen laundry (towels, washcloths, aprons and such), while Josh and I talked about all sorts of things. Both his father and grandfather were involved at this camp back in the day. His grandfather even helped build some of the original cabins. Quite a legacy! I asked Josh what kind of spiritual impact the camp had had on him. He’d started as a camper at age 10. He was open about not really grasping the gospel of Jesus Christ for himself until he got more involved in leadership at the camp. Telling those Christian stories to others really put it on his own heart and made all the difference.

Just before serving supper, while I was getting the caesar salads ready, Daniel appeared at my elbow, having returned from his meeting. “Thanks so much for helping out,” he said, adding, “You’re doing a great job!” That’s the gift of encouragement, right there.

I’m glad I had the opportunity to be of service in the kitchen for a day. We pray regularly for this camp and have a list of the staff, but until this week they’ve just been names. I’m grateful to be able to pray now with faces attached to those names, and with a deeper appreciation for what this camp means to the boys and young men who come here. One of the camp t-shirts reads “Camp ____________, where God hangs out with the guys.” Yes, indeed!

I’ll probably CCP this in the morning. Gotta use the lingo!

After all these years, I’m finally at summer camp. This was an experience denied to me in my youth so naturally I romanticized it as a place of wonder where you went from one amazing thing to another. Even after watching The Parent Trap, I still thought it must be a place that birthed lifelong friendships and created the best memories. Maybe you could even find your long-lost identical twin there. I would have been delighted to find out that I had a long-lost identical twin, by the way.

My older sister became a Girl Scout and I believe she had a summer camp experience once. By the time I came around, I only made it as far as the Brownies. We did one pitiful day camp that was so far from meeting my expectations that I left the memory of it smoldering on the inadequate campfire we sat around, where it remains to this day.

My husband and I are volunteering at a Christian boys’ camp this week. It’s the same camp he brought most of our sons to for a week every summer as they were growing up. He would stay up there, too, as a lay counselor. When they came home from camp, I’d hear about hocker games, archery and other skills learned, horseback riding, carpet ball, swimming, singing silly camp songs around the campfire, Bible devotionals and prayer times, and buying things like Charleston Chews at the camp store.

We only have one daughter out of our six children (we always called her our “rose among the thorns”). While the menfolk were up at camp, she and I had “Girl Week.” We planned it in advance with different featured activities each day. One day we’d have an extravagant tea party. Another day would be “Downtown Day,” where we’d go downtown with a certain amount of money to spend at the shops. We’d also have a day where we’d do take-out food and a movie. And of course we’d have a craft day, too, working on some artsy project together. Oh, such fun! Looking back, I think that the way we spent that week was better than any summer camp experience could have been.

I’m not sure yet how our week at summer camp will go. I had expected to help in the kitchen, but upon arriving here we discovered that they already have four cooks/kitchen helpers, all young guys. The head cook is 17 years old. He told me they might not need my help much, so I will probably see if I can tag around after my husband, helping with grounds work. I am praying that the Lord will show me how to be useful here.

The memory of this post will be left smoldering in a campfire in the morning.