Yesterday, I escaped to the porch of a historic cabin on Camp property as soon as lunch was over.  No one ever goes there and I told no one where I was headed.    I needed to escape, to cry, to sort some things in my head, to make sense of the foreignness in which I now live and work.

Why did I ever start this?

How many times have I asked this in my life?  At all the pivotal junctures, certainly these words have been with me...

When I was new to marriage,
When I was new to mothering,
Each time I started a new job or major artistic endeavor,
Everytime I began working with a new group of women in ministry,
When I began homeschooling,
Right now at Camp.

But each time it feels like the first time Ive said it; like the birth pains of the new life bursting forth are something I have never experienced!  

I find myself unappreciative of the Gift Im being given because the birthing process is always a messy one.

But then, all at once and everywhere, at some moment in each of these new endeavors, I've found that I suddenly wouldn't change anything for all of the world.    And so it will be with Camp as well, I suppose.