The Campground

When I was young, there was a club called Camp Fire Girls.  I believe that has been updated now to Camp Fire Kids.  However, in my day, among their many activities, projects, beads, patches and awards, was an annual candy sale.  The lucky girls who sold 160 boxes of candy would get to go to camp for a week.  Brochures were distributed showing the many activities of the camp and the itinerary for the week.

I was enchanted.  I dreamed every day of swimming in the lake, sleeping in a cabin, telling stories around a campfire, hiking, going on a hayride, having archery lessons and doing crafts.

We had four weeks to sell the candy.  Every afternoon, as soon as school was out, I began my door to door sales.  I had a plan and a map.  I covered every house on every street of our town.  On Fridays I sold outside the bank.  On Saturday I sold in the grocery store parking lot.  On Sunday I took a rest.  It was disheartening as time went by, to hear more and more people tell me they had already bought the candy from someone else.  Finally the sale was over.  I had sold 40 boxes of candy.  I got a bead to sew on my vest, but no chance to go to camp.  I never did go to camp.

Fast forward more than half a century and my grandchildren are camping age.  I visit a premier children’s camp.  Sleeping in cabins no longer holds any appeal to this old nonni.  The lake looks muddy and uninviting.  I take a hike, which is fun, but at the end of the trail I’m hot, itchy and covered with chigger bites.  The hayride and campfire are things I’ve experienced as an adult, and do still enjoy, yet if I could go to camp today, I’d pass on the experience.

How silly we probably are when we talk about what we hope we’ll experience in heaven.  When we see the real place, most likely we’ll instantly move beyond the earthly joys that once meant so much to us.

“Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it entered into the mind of mankind what God has prepared for those who love Him.”  I Cor 2:9



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