Redemption

I recently returned from a week at children's camp. Allow me to sum up my experience via a little arithmetic. 6 black kids + 9 white kids + a duffel bag full of pharmaceuticals + 2 bed wetters + 2 fans + a quiver full of poorly aimed arrows + a snake that may have been an extension chord = Deer cabin 2010. With the race issue alone, there was drama from the get-go. There were times when I honestly wondered if I was at kids camp or playing a bit part in the prequel to the Longest Yard. Rocks were thrown. Words were exchanged. Tears were shed. And that was just among the counselors. Despite the apparent anarchy, we tried everything we could to salvage the week. Laying on of hands. Sad music and altar calls. Eloquent expositions on the harmony of the created order. Yet each new attempt to right the ship was ultimately dashed upon the same rocks that had heretofore been used as weapons.

When the sun rose on Friday morning, we had but one chance. One measly opportunity to rescue this week in the woods from the proverbial bowels of pointlessness. That one chance was the infamous Camp Relay. For those of you unacquainted with this ancient right of passage, the Camp Relay is a five-minute free-for-all across the campground that pits cabin against a cabin in a series of athletic feats. It demands an unbroken string of perfection, and a diverse array of skill-sets. As the race began that day, most leaders cheered their campers on with the predictable chants of " do your best", and " we're all in this together." We were slightly more ambitious. I personally ran the full gauntlet, screaming " for this you were created" into the pre-adolescent ears of my campers. It just so happened that it was our day. For one moment, we somehow managed to take all of the competitiveness, animosity, and malice and direct it squarely where it belonged....in the direction of 100 and some unsuspecting church kids. Wesley Kelly's dizziness- defying performance on the bat-spin was unprecedented. The three-legged race was as graceful as a fresh foal galloping over the green hills of eastern Kentucky. Don't even get me started on the leap-frog.

Well before the last leg was completed, the celebration had already begun. As we hoisted our fifty-pound bifocled bed wetter into the air, the entire week was brought into perspective. Five days of treachery were made right as we received first prize. What was the prize? All the corn dogs we could eat and a fresh mattress for bunk #5. Sweet justice.