A month spent at camp is a pocket in time - as if you could sew together both ends and step right over it. The world outside continues as usual. But the pocket is so deep and overflowing with people, stories, memories, emotions, and growth in character that the shock of stepping on the other side can be rattling. How can one experience equate to both a year and a day? A year looking at the pocket itself, and a day as you look at the whole spectrum of your life. Maybe in some respects that part of the taste of heaven that camp offers; the experience solely God's that a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like a day. (2 Peter 3.8)





Oh, my partners in crime. No, we were not always dressed like hula dancers. Yes, we always acted this insane. We formed bananas; we rig-of-bambooed; we had the time of our lives. Describing my love for these sisters in Christ is practically impossible to put into words; however, I will do my best.