Last year, around this time, a thought came to me.
Christmas was approaching, and soon after would be our camp’s annual New Year’s Family Camp. It has always been one of the year’s highlights. Families travel in for a short retreat; extended families use it for reunions; single adults and seniors find community in a season that can be lonely. Activities are planned for every age. And perhaps most importantly, after a season of hosting, cooking, baking, cleaning, and endless preparation, the moms get to rest. They can sit back and be served for a change.
It’s supposed to be fun.
But honestly, I was tired.
Just plain weary. I didn’t want to advertise, plan, serve, mingle, or entertain. After twenty years of attending New Year’s Family Camp, I found myself wanting a break.
I reasoned, “After all, I already gave up twenty-one years of summer family vacations. Do I have to give up the only other school break my kids have?”
Then I stopped and recognized the bitterness of that line of thinking. It wasn’t healthy or helpful.
On that day, a year ago, I prayed: “Lord, give me a fresh passion and love for the mission you have for me.”
I’ve prayed that prayer all year long, and God has answered in surprising ways.
This year has been, on the one hand, wonderfully out of the ordinary—one highlight was a dream-come-true trip to Maui. On the other hand, it’s been a challenging year. Through it all I held tightly to two prayers:
“Lord, may I live my life doing the things you desire of me because I want to — not just because I ought to.”
And
“Lord, I want to serve you. What do you want me to do right now, today?”
***
During a busy summer, my husband was losing sleep over mounting responsibilities at camp. Our long-time camp cook was leaving, and despite urgent prayers and pleas, no replacement appeared. Anyone who has run a camp knows food is central; it isn’t something you can simply remove from the program and hope it returns.
I had a personal struggle too. When my husband became camp director, I had firmly declared I would help with anything except the camp kitchen. To me, the kitchen felt like Jonah’s Nineveh—the one place I refused to go.
Slowly and gently, God worked on the stubbornness and fear in my heart. One sleepless night I muttered, “Would you just go to sleep already? I’ll do it!”
We made the decision with fear and trepidation. I didn’t know if I could learn the job or how the new workload might affect my health. But I stepped out of my comfort zone and into the camp kitchen.
All along, I prayed that God would work out the details, give me the ideas, the stamina, and the skills needed. I also asked for true, abiding joy through it all.
***
Recently, over our little breakfast-in-bed tradition, my husband and I laughed about the kitchen. As we worked through plans and details, I leaned over and whispered, “You know… I kind of like this job.” We laughed until we cried.
God delights in unexpected changes—miracles big and small.
***
This Christmas I decided to try something different. The holiday can be a very lonely time when family is far away, so with new experience cooking for large groups, we decided to host Christmas dinner at Camp Homewood. The event will be open to anyone who wants to be surrounded on that day by people, children, laughter, and warmth. I’m still working out the details, but I’m excited about the opportunity to serve others—not because I ought to, but because I genuinely want to.
If you are local and find yourselves without family and would like to be with a welcoming group, consider this an invitation. Come join ours. Please call the camp office at 250.285.3483 and leave the names and ages of those attending so we can plan seating and meals.
If you already have plans with family or friends but would still like to support this community event, consider donating to Camp Homewood to help cover the cost of food. I want this to be a free event for those who attend.
I love details and would like to give each guest a small, named gift. If you have little presents to donate for that purpose, they would be a blessing to someone receiving them.
***
This may be the longest post I’ve written in a while, especially after a quiet two-week break. Thank you for reading, and blessings to you all as you consider how to share hospitality, joy, and community this season.