We’re going to be late for supper!
Thanks to cell phones our group leader calls ahead and alerts the church camp that is our destination. We’re in luck. It’s a small group this week. Be ready to grab a plate when we walk in the door.
The positive side of our last portion of journey. The driver’s been here before. He knows the exits to take and we find the camp without taking any scenic tours of New Orleans. We tumble out of the vans and make straight for the dining hall.
Hot food. Ice water. Introductions.
We’ll rattle around in the place with echos as company. A tiny staff, a few volunteers that arrived solo, our small group of adults, and a couple of dozen high school boys and their leaders from Philadelphia stay this week in accommodations for 301.
Our group is assigned bunk rooms across the hall from each other – five men in one, three ladies in the other. No problem staking claim to a lower bunk. Now how did they plan this? The messages on the raw wood beds in the men’s room all end with female names. While the bunk above me has been signed by “Spencer”? The shower room rules are explained. Our assigned chores are defined.
To keep costs at a minimum the residents take turns assisting with meal serving, cleaning the common areas, and carrying the trash to the dumpster. Easy work when many hands pitch in.
Unpack. Gather for devotions. A little visiting in the lounge while one of our number selects a group puzzle for the week. It seems like a reasonable choice – 1000 pieces of various shades and shapes of chocolate. And we have an entire week. We turn in early, tomorrow will be full of more new things.
