They say that moms get some sort of amnesia a year or so after giving birth, because if you really remembered how it was to be pregnant and deliver a baby you’d never again in your right mind voluntarily submit to that particular brand of torture. But some time passes after you give birth, and you find yourself ogling at babies, offering to hold them because you like the baby powder smell, and glancing longingly at the infant clothing as you wander through stores. It’s like God’s special little way of tricking us into procreating again; without this amnesia, one time on that ride would do most of us for a lifetime.
I guess that God does that same selective recollection modification thingy to former Youth Pastors too, because as though four years in youth ministry wasn’t enough torment, er, I mean to say wasn’t a source of great joy in our lives, we loaded up 12 elementary-school aged kids and headed to overnight Camp in Cook Springs, Alabama for a missions weekend learning about Venezuela.
Now, learning from the missionaries and eating the food and singing the songs were all very educational and enjoyable. But more than that, we had a brutal reminder about camp food and camp lodging. Let me tell you something. There is nothing to really bring you back to counting your blessings as quickly and as harshly as eating a camp hot dog and sleeping in a bunk bed in a large room full of squealing 8-yr-old girls. Those people at Gitmo better shut up or we’ll move them to summer camp in Alabama and see how they like that.
All in all, we had a great time, an uneventful trip, and learned a lot of information about missions in Venezuela. Yea!
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