bring me back

Bring me back.

To summer.
To nights under stars.
To host families.
To adventures.
To campers.
To meaningful conversations.
To a list of numbers you don't know.
the date.
the time.
the zip code.
Bring me back to the cafeteria.
The madness.
The cleaning.
The tubs.
The dinner bell.
To the walk-in fridge.
To the milk cooler.
daily chocolate milk.
The outside voices, inside.
The games.
Bring me back to summer sickness.
To where a day in quarantine felt like an eternity.
Bring me back to the campfires.
The daily devotions.
The perfect fires.
The songs.
even if you couldn't sing.
The guitar.
The endless fire smell.
never leaving smell, forever on all your clothes.
The lake at BZ.
Bring me back to the woods.
To spirit sticks.
To hikes.
To arrows.
To my favorite trees.
To the point and back again.
To the forts.
Bring me back to mermaids.
not so much leaches.
Bring me back to the meetings.
To hearing about habitat money raised.
To bucket of love.
To a freezer of waiting freezies.
Bring me back to the pool.
The guarding tubes.
The diving board.
The pool parties.
The night swims.
Bring me back to upper Beta.
The jams.
mostly Tigger's beautiful guitar solos.
The food.
The packages.
especially those sent to Jear-Bear and videoed by Carl.
(go Carl)
The letters.
The phone calls.
The daily hour of conversation.
The ol' couch cushions.
The possibilities.
Take me back to the ropes.
To challenging yourself.
and others.
Bring me back to the lake.
Guarding on the jet ski.
To Kayaks.
To a view of sailboats.
Bring me back the weekends.
To church.
To Jane and Aaron's.
To the MOA.
To the possibilities of a free camp.
To Gommar visits.
To nights in the GaGa pit.
Bring me back to the cabins.
To the hearts of campers.
especially the DD ones.
To chatting in Gamma.
To where your best friends live ten feet from your front door.
To the ability to move once a week.
sometimes twice.
To the love shared, morning and night.
Bring me back to camp.
Where the Holy Spirit is heard in the wind.
Where the reminders of Jesus aren't further than the turn of a head.
Where God chose to send you for a summer.

I will take the mosquitoes, the sleepy days, the pool shifts, the hot dog cookouts, the noisy campers, the sunburns. I'll gladly take the nights in the woods, keeping track of my keys, sleeping on the floor in a bed full of sand, the day long canoe trips, the registration, and setting up. Take me back to not enough space, living out of tubs, living out of a suitcase (with broken wheels from pulling it over roots), washing clothes only when you can no longer lift your laundry bag.To only washing your hair once a week. I would gladly sleep one more night in Alpha.  I would take on the organizing endless life jackets, ball shed balls, archery equipment, cleaning beta, weeing the garden, AND wiping down bunks. I'll even take the stinky green lake.

Just bring me back.