I learned a long time ago that getting really really sweaty and dirty and then taking a shower is one of the best feelings in the world. When I worked at a summer camp, one of my favorites times of the day was walking back to our cabin with my wet hair smelling of shampoo and my skin finally drying from all the sweat and humidity of the day. There are few things that can measure up to an evening at camp - the sun has gone down, the stars and the breeze have come out, and the crickets and cicadas serenade everyone to sleep. The only thing that made it better was to having someone strumming on a guitar, maybe playing "This Pretty Planet" or "The Lone Wild Bird."

Every once in awhile the memory of camp creeps up on me, and I am forced to stop what I am doing and get lost in remembering things. Often times I am surprised by how many things I've forgotten...I don't think I will ever remember all of my campers' names, or my co-counselors, or my junior counselors. Certain sessions, certain activities, even certain people have fallen out of my conscious thought and it makes me sad that I can't remember every second of my time out there. However, there some memories that I will never, ever forget.

I remember my very first counselor. I was a terrified little third grader who had never been away from home that long before, and I loved my counselor. She had long, very curly hair, and her name was Amy. I also remember stubbing my toe on a rock and some poor male counselor carried me on his back all the way to the infirmary.

I remember going to beach camp and the beautiful second story porch that looked out over the ocean. The breeze and the view on that porch created a little haven of peacefulness, even for a bunch of middle school kids.

I remember the smell of waking up from an over night - a mixture of campfire, bug spray, burnt food, sleeping bags, and sweat.

I remember reading a different Narnia book each summer, and later each session of camp.

I remember my first year back at camp, and becoming a part of a group for perhaps the very first time. Although I have no idea where most of those people are, or what they are doing, I will always remember that summer with fondness. We were a great (although small) group, and it was awesome to be a part of it.

I remember the silly songs; maybe not all of the words to every song, but I definitely remember silly songs. Chiquita banana anyone?

I remember the countless, countless times I sat in the middle of a group of people, singing songs that I loved, and being perfectly content to simply live in the moment. I would have been happy to sing every moment of every day out there.

I remember dishes. Oh, how I remember doing dishes. There are few things in this world that can be that fun AND that miserable, all at the same time.

I remember friendship bracelets.

I remember the year it rained. And rained. And rained and rained and rained. By the end of that two week session I though I was going to have mold growing on my face and mud permanently attached to my feet. It was awesome to be in the middle of a force of nature like that, though - and watching the river rise almost to the dining hall was kind of cool.

I remember walking to the high ropes course on the back property in the blistering sun, putting harnesses on kids, and watching our leaders try not to die of heat stroke.

I remember the lovely, lovely swimming pool. And the G-line, which sadly is no more.

I remember my favorite spot on the planet, the chapel. I remember the simple wooden benches built into a deck on the flat top of a hill, looking out over the creek and the field. I remember the the calm and serene feeling that permeates the wind that blows through the trees. That is the one place in the world where I NEVER have to try to see God; he just exists there always and forever, even in my memory. All I have to do is close my eyes and I am laying on one of those wooden benches, looking up into the leafy greenness, listening to the breeze pass over, around, and through everything.

I remember the slop bucket. I also remember (and not many people do) turning the compost pile in the garden.

Out of the thousands of memories (some bad, most good) I have of camp, I am most grateful for the ones that brought me the friends I have today. It's hard to believe that a summer can affect people so much, but outside of my family, the people I am closest to today all went to camp. Sometimes it seems weird, but when I think about it, it makes perfect sense. They all know how good it feels to take a shower after a long, dirty, sweaty day at camp.