Almost Heaven

Growing up I spent the summers at Camp Carmel, a baptist church camp located in the Laurel Mountains of Southwestern Pennsylvania. It is still one of my favorite places on earth. This past Saturday my dearest camp friend, myself and 3 of our collective 5 boys travelled the sometimes treacherous "camp road" to see the sites of our summer home away from home.

It was easy to be nostalgic for those days of leisure, volleyball tournaments, singing around a campfire, tubing down the river, and swimming at the falls. Denise and I did our fair share of reminiscing about running back to camp from Eddie's Well in the hopes to get the bath house before we peed our pants and once at campfire she ran over to me and asked, "Who's this boy holding my hand?" Denise always had the dates for campfire.

Ethan even tried his hand at planking.

And I tried mine at "S" -ing. I really think it is going to catch on.

Without my years at camp, I would never have learned all the words to "I am my own Grandpa" or memorized our numerous penned verses to the classic "The Diarrhea Song". I also would never have felt the incredible sense of belonging to a group, met the lifelong friends whom I treasure and felt the presence of God in the silence of the stars at night.

Man I'm deep.