We Want A Cook's Parade...

The campers--I had a Flamingo and an Archangel this year

I did something that I never thought I'd do in a million years--I went to summer camp as a cook.  When I got my letter informing me that I was indeed going to camp, and as a cook, I laughed.  My Hubby laughed.  It was one grand joke.  Because I have never been that confident in the kitchen, I never make meals for people unless they are coming to my house for dinner (the whole church lady meal brigade thing has never been my thing), and I have no experience--none--cooking for large groups unless you count the two years I worked at A&W Restaurant where I occasionally filled in as a cook.

Plus, there is this thing about me that made serving in the kitchen laughable.  I hate the heat.  Hate it.  With a passion.  I hate being hot.  I have been known to whine when the thermometer is above 85.  So agreeing to spend an entire week at the end of July in a hot, unairconditioned kitchen left me a bit nervous.

My home away from home--a blessing to have such a nice home

Oh, and lets not forget the part of me that hates being out of her comfort zone.  That has a habit of buckling when under stress--have you ever tried getting every aspect of a meal done on time, at the same time, for 200 people?  Ya, me either.

But I went into this with a whole lot of prayer, both my own and from other people.  The process of working out my being able to go to camp in the first place was seamless, which led me to believe that my going was definitely God-ordained.  So I had a lot of faith that the week would go well despite my reservations.

The two weeks before camp are what I would affectionately call "Hell Week."  It was hot.  Like blazing hot.  Big fat heatwave two weeks before camp.  I admit that I was getting a lot nervous about what that would mean for camp week.  My life was in chaos as I tried to prepare the family for camp week--4 of us went to camp, Joy went to the Lake House with Grandma.  Anything that could go wrong did the week before camp.  I was an emotional basket case.  I felt like I was going coo-coo.  I couldn't concentrate on one thing long enough to get it done.  Hubby had a horrible week at work and was also not in the best frame of mind.  All I could think was--How am I ever going to survive camp when I am this crazy now???

And then the strangest thing happened.  Saturday morning we woke up early to load the car, drop the kids off at Grandma's, and head to camp for staff training.  The kids went into Grandma's house, Hubby and I got back in the car, the door shut, and instantly a breath of peace settled over me.  It was like every care in the world was suddenly lifted.

I had an awesome week at camp.  I loved working in the kitchen.  The weather was beautiful--ranging from 60-78 F.  It meant that the kitchen never got overly hot.  The other cooks were a lot of fun to work with and we worked well together.  The first few days my feet were really sore by the end of the day, but I never ran out of energy.  I never felt tired.  I always had a good attitude.

My Music Man Hubby (in black), David being a short, fat Texan (in blue)

On our way home from camp Hubby commented on how surprised he was at how I handled camp.  He thought for sure that I would have at least one emotional shut down time, which is what happens when this introvert spends a lot of time in an extrovert situation.  But that never happened.  Not even once.

We got home from camp a week later.  I started a load of laundry, did some unpacking, and then sat down on the couch.  Within seconds I was asleep.  For the next two days I was exhausted.  But I never felt even a drop of it while at camp.

There were some other surprising, God-breathed moments and blessings that happened while I was at camp, but I will share those with you another day.  But for now, all I can tell you is that God was at camp with us.  He met all my needs and gave me the strength, energy, and mental capacity to be around people all day, every day.  To thrive and be cheerful despite spending 7-8 hours a day cooking in the kitchen.  Would I do it again?  Absolutely.  Probably not next year because Joy still isn't old enough to go to camp (though it may work out again to farm her out), but the year after that for sure.


Have you ever had an experience like this?  Where you felt led to do something that was out of your comfort zone?  Where you knew that it was only through the special grace of God that you thrived in a situation that would normally turn you into a puddle of mush?  I would love to hear your story--just leave a comment below.