Comfort between granddaughters.

Camp has been a big part of my whole life. Thanks to my mom, I started going off to camp every summer before my long-term memory developed. As can be expected, I have a lot memories that have accumulated over the years. I'm happy to report that most of them are good ones and tonight I started thinking about one of those good ones from this past summer.

As many people who teach and/or work with kids will probably tell you, the kids aren't the only ones who get something out of the relationship. I learn every time I go to camp, even though I haven't been a camper for several years, and I can only hope to bless the kids as much as they bless me. There was one particularly special moment with a camper that was brought to my mind tonight.

At Camp Formosa, our goal is to tell everyone who comes through there about Jesus. Part of the way we structure everything is to have a service every night where we sing together, listen to a speaker, and make sure everyone has a chance to pray together. Some of those kids have really weighty stuff going on in their lives, so there's a lot to pray about. As you might imagine, there are also a lot of tears shed. Sometimes, more than having someone pray with them, the kids just want someone to give them a hug and let them cry into their shoulder. That was the case one night during the second week this past June.

I was standing on one side of the room near the front, singing "Amazing Grace" with everyone in the room, when Kourtney almost ran into me, sobbing. She grabbed onto me and I grabbed onto her, then let her stand there for a minute and cry. I leaned my head down to her ear and asked her if she could tell me why she was crying. She said "Amazing Grace" was her grandpa's favorite song and he had died recently. I understood how that felt, and I told her so. My grandpa died when I was rather young, and it was hard for me to deal with at first. So I held her a little tighter and stroked her head, softly singing. I'm a bit...more than a bit...of a sympathy crier, so I can't deny that a few tears had started rolling down my face, but between the two of us, Kourtney was the only one really crying.

But then the song changed. I heard the beginnings of "Oh, How I Love Jesus." That was my grandpa's favorite song. The emotion of the moment overtook me. As well as a bit of residual sadness that he's not still around, although that sadness doesn't plague me like it did initially. I really started crying then. After a moment, upon calming down a bit, I told Kourtney between my gulping that this was my grandpa's favorite song, the one I had just told her about. A small, sympathetic smile crossed her face, and she started hugging me. Crier that I am, the beauty of the moment started a fresh wave of sobbing and gulping. Kourtney and I stood there, granddaughters, holding each other.

After a few minutes, and after we had both regained most of our composure, Kourtney raised her head. I said, "Thank you for coming over here, Kourtney." She nodded with a smile and went back to her seat.

With anyone this would have been a special exchange, but I appreciate having this moment to share with Kourtney. If I remember correctly, she was 9 years old when I met her and she's now a teenager. I've been watching her grow, and as with all the kids that come through there, I've hoped she's been able to tell that I love her. Maybe this was evidence that she does. It's these moments that are so rewarding, and give me the energy to continue for years to come.

I can hardly wait to go back again.