A letter from peg.

To Those Interested in the Camp Experience,

I didn't want him to go. Although I had spent a great deal of time trying to talk my youngest son into going to camp, I didn't really want him to go. My words were saying one thing but I had to recognize that my heart was in conflict. I wanted him home and close to me where I felt I could protect and control the environment. We had not been a strong "camp family." My mother thought I was crazy to push the issue. I worried someone would hurt his feelings, he'd be unhappy, he'd feel uncomfortable, or he'd be scared. Intellectually, I knew camp would be a great experience for him. Obviously, he needed to get out from under a self-obsessed, over-bearing mother! So, as my kids say, "I sucked it up" and sent him off to camp. He was ready--I wasn't.

Finally, the day came I could go pick him up from camp. I had fretted at night concerned that he was feeling lonely. I had fretted when the weather turned bad, fearing he was scared. So, at last, I could go pick him up and "save" him from all of HIS worries and fears!

I drove up to his cabin to find him in a great raucous water fight. He was laughing and romping around with great energy and excitement with his cabin group. "Hey, Mom, what's up? Come and meet my friends! Next year, I am staying longer!"

On the drive home, I learned all the camp songs. He told me of all the fun things he had done. He had made friends, survived the storm, made it through each dark night, learned to share, and learned important lessons about his own spirit and resilience. I realized that it was my fears that were interfering with life's natural course. I was proud of him; I was proud of me. I had "sucked it up."

As we got closer to home, his head was starting to nod as exhaustion hit him. I finally said to him, "What was the best thing about camp?"

"The counselors, Mom, they were great. They spent time with us."

"Maybe you can be a counselor someday," I said.

"Yeah, I hope so." And he fell sound asleep.