It occurred to me the other day that working at a camp and raising children have a lot of similarities.
Kids can be frustrating. There’s kids who throw fits when you put them to bed, there’s teenagers that admit they’re trying to be sent home.
Its an overwhelming amount of work. There’s work before, during, after. An endless cycle. Just like my kids laundry. Which I should be doing right now instead of writing.
There’s a lot of gross jobs. I thought it would get better as my kids got older but the grossness gets worse. But I did manage to delegate the plugged toilets this weekend.
Kids are destructive. Sharpies on the table, footballs meeting lights in the lodge basement.
My house is a disaster. That’s a constant.
Both things show you pretty much every sin and weakness in your life. Every day.
Exhaustion. All the time.
It takes a toll. All of it. Some days you end up asking yourself why in the world you ever got yourself into this situation. If all the effort you’re putting in will ever make a difference.
But then there are these moments of utter brilliance. Unexpected hugs. Tearful apologies. Serious talks. Counselling at tables. Watching invitations. Hearing your kids singing together. Laughter at meals. Lives changed. Differences made.
Like glimpses into the eternal, God gives us these moments to keep us going. And suddenly there’s a smile on your face, an energy to keep going, a determination to do it all again tomorrow.
There are not that many things in life that can wreak chaos and leave you with a smile on your face thinking, “Well, that was worth it”.
My kids and my camp. Both worth it.
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