My Weekend (Kids, Kids, Kids)

My weekend was spent helping at my church’s “Day Camp,” which actually covers two days of non-stop, action-packed, Jesus-loving, (insert exciting hyphened phrase here), free-for-all fun. Well, I admit that’s not an entirely accurate description, but it’s close.
I went to the church yesterday morning at 08:30. Meeting the kids was an interesting experience, being that I was unsure how many would come. I was also unsure about my duties as team leader. The official term for my work was “camp counselor,” and there were certain instances when that title was more appropriate to describe the work with my kids. In a real sense I was conscripted for this assignment, and at first I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to spend my weekend babysitting. But I asked God to change my attitude (perhaps the prayer of that very morning), and certainly He did. So there I sat at a table with about a dozen kids eating doughnuts—excuse me, donuts—wondering what I was going to do with myself for the next thirty-six hours.
We divided into four teams. I was assigned to manage three lovely young kids. We were the yellow team, Team Perch, the best team there. We bussed them all over to a beautiful plot of land by the Cohocton River. Much fun ensued.
The first day was a total blessing. I enjoyed myself as much as the kids did. We played games, had a water balloon fight, walked along the river, talked about Bible verses, ate hotdogs, made smores, and resolved any minor interpersonal assaults that took place during all of that action. The reason for being called a “counselor” was increasingly apparent with a few children. But they are easily consoled, unlike most adults.
In the end, at 20:00, everyone went home smiling to the parents, who were grateful for the day off and eagerly awaiting the following day when we would whisk their children away again for a time of non-stop, action-packed, Jesus-loving, (insert exciting hyphened phrase here), free-for-all fun.
The next day one more came, and he was added to Team Perch, the best team. Saturday morning was interesting. We served the kids doughnuts—yes, donuts—and juice again, and they were bright-eyed and eagerly awaiting another day of non-stop, … free-for-all fun. The counselors, however, were not so energetic. My pastor’s wife, Christine, hadn’t yet received the doctor-recommended dosage of caffeine, two of the younger counselors were up late playing X-box until about 03:00, I’m a wimp, and some of the other, older members of our squad were simply lagging. The extremes of our tiredness led us to start late and end early, and we informed parents to pick up their children an hour ahead of schedule. I didn’t object to the change of schedule.
I truly adore kids, especially those younger than six. After that, they hit a rough spot, but I do love them also. I took a liking to one boy who was much younger than the rest. The general requirement for registering for Day Camp was that the kids must be between first grade and seventh grade, exclusive. So the oldest kid was maybe twelve, and the youngest should’ve been about seven. But little David, who came with his two older siblings, was barely five, and he hadn’t gone into kindergarten yet. He was a frail, quiet, precious little boy. We had a good time together. (So many cute stories to tell, but so little energy.)
Overall, Day Camp was a success. My conclusions from this experience are simple: (1) I love kids; (2) Jesus is cool; (3) don’t let kids run around through sprinklers with water balloons in a blind mêlée until two of them collide and one gets a bloody nose; and (4) I love kids.
God, bless them all.