Something Familiar

I’m at camp. Well, it’s a winter retreat, not a full week, but it’s at the campground where I spent a lot of my time and energy in my late teens.

For several years, I was either the head cook or one of the main cooks in the kitchen. Cooking for up to 400 people, 3 meals (and a snack a day) for 6 days. Usually for multiple weeks. And man, nothing could stop me. I was up every day between 3 and 3:30. Out the door, ovens warming, quiet time in the dining room, breakfast rolling before anyone was stirring. Coffee on at 5 for those early risers. Breakfast. Lunch. Lots of clean up. Nap and shower between 1 and 3ish. I usually napped for about an hour, unless I got in a great conversation with one of my work crew girls, in which case I skipped. Then dinner, snack, prep for the next day, in bed around midnight. What a life. I soaked it up!

God spoke so much to me at this location, in this kitchen and dining room. Down by the river. In the tab. I learned to lead here. Learned to serve. Learned to cook for a crowd. Learned patience (sort of.) Learned how to invest in students- both because I was with them all the time and because I was invested in here. And I learned that if you’re ever anywhere like a camp where someone else is cooking, make friends with the kitchen staff.

I found myself naturally jumping in at dinner. Helping serve. I haven’t done a camp in almost 4 years. Hard to believe it’s been that long. That’s when I started getting sick. I was honestly too tired to do anything even remotely close. The glory days are over.

Tonight, I’m sitting in the kitchen. I came in to bless the kitchen staff and get the dirty dishes washed and the clean ones put away. (Something that always made me smile in the morning.) The smell. There’s a certain smell of this place. So familiar. So perfect.

It was natural for me to come into the kitchen. To put away dishes and offer to help. That’s who I was. Unfortunately, not so much who I am now.

I couldn’t figure it out before, but now I know why. Since I got here, I’ve felt myself being pulled into the kitchen. Tonight, I figured it out. This place is the last place my body was whole. The last place I could do anything for any amount of time. The last place I was invincible.

But the glory days are over. I’ll do what I can, and what God gives me the strength and ability to do. I’ll never be 17 again, but moments like these will live in my heart forever.