Clay at Camp

Kid's camp is about to kill me.

Dropping Clay off on Monday morning was hard. Up to the last minute he was saying he didn't want to go.

Once he was on the bus, he was horsing around just like everyone else, so I heaved a big sigh of relief.

Way too prematurely.

As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, he wouldn't even look at me. He was too busy pinching his eyes to keep from crying. He finally held up one hand to the window.

Then Allison started crying, because Clay was crying. And my sweet friend Kim started crying with me, too.

I think if I'd taken my high school gym teacher's advice and taken track back in the day, I might have chased that bus down, yanked my boy off and gone home with our tails tucked between our legs.

But I put my thinking cap on and thought that would only embarrass Clay. So I stifled.

Several friends who are helping at the camp all week updated me by cell phone calls throughout the day. And Clay was good.

So Momma was good.

One friend even let Clay hijack his cell to post a message to me via Facebook. It's times like those that make me love technology!

And then I got a call yesterday evening from the teenage girl I'd most like to kidnap and adopt as my own (she knows who she is... and so does her mom... love you both!). My Clay was not happy. And had not been for several hours by then. He had isolated himself from the group at craft time and again at supper time.

By then, it was nearing bed time. I figured bed times would be hard.

My teenage bud handed Clay her cell and I talked with him. I got a whimpering earful.

Nobody was playing with him. They were all playing poker (and at church camp! Horrors!!). No, he couldn't learn how to play. He wanted to come home. The quicker the better.

Yes, he ate well at supper. Yes, he was showering. And brushing his teeth.

It was cold. It had rained on them the whole time.

He was sleeping good, but waking up at 6 a.m., while everyone else was still asleep. (Not sure why that bothered him... that's exactly what happens at home most days!)

Then he started crying.

Oww! Knife into chest!

Why, oh why, did I make that kid go to camp?

Oh, yeah. Independence. He needs to learn to handle awkward situations. And because comfort is not always the best thing for growth. And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Yeah. All that.

Highly overrated stuff!

But my one big question was answered: should I go visit him while he's at camp?

Uh... NO!

I got off the phone with him once he'd gotten a grip and stopped crying.

I had a hard time going to sleep last night. I fell asleep praying for Clay.

And woke up to a loud clap of thunder and lightning a little after 2 a.m.

I thought, "C'mon, Lord, cut that kid a break! Please don't let this storm be up there. Please let him sleep soundly through it if it is."

More praying for my boy.

I haven't heard from him today. Or anyone else at camp.

But I have some tips I'm going to share with him when he comes home.

These thoughts get me through unpleasant situations: This is temporary. In (fill-in-the-blank) hours, this will be history. I just have to hang on for a bit longer.

I can make it through a whole lot of yucky stuff by remembering all that. Stuff like doctor's visits. Medical tests. Children vomiting in tandem throughout the night. A horrible lecture. Airplane rides.

Having my homesick boy at camp.

For the record, in about 29 hours, this will all be over. It will be history. I just have to hang on for a bit longer.