[Nevertheless] There's a Price

My husband, eleven year old Alia, and I went to Camp Calumet this past weekend. We stayed there and ate delicious meals for free, and worked with a group of people from around New England to help get Camp ready for their busiest season. Spring and Summer bring weddings, retreats, and hundreds of campers to this beautiful spot. 

We arrived on Friday night, got settled into our cabin, and spent some time in the Conference Center playing card games, meeting people, and learning what our assignments were for the next day. Alia and I would be on Lakeside Dining Hall duty as usual, and Jim with a small crew clearing trails. 

Waking early the next morning, we made our way to breakfast and then were off to our respective duties. Alia and I vacuumed, washed windows, cleaned a big freezer, and took the occasional break to watch the loons on the lake and take in the beauty around us. 

After lunch, we finished up our jobs from the morning and set to work washing all the chairs in the dining hall. My body aching, back spasming, I was overjoyed when the work was done and it was time for dinner and a bit of relaxation. 

We had a wonderful time at the campfire, Alia leading and helping with more than a few songs and skits and me leading a song as well.

We sank into bed at 8:30pm, completely exhausted. I slept soundly for a couple hours, then tossed and turned. By 3:30AM, I had given up on sleep. At 5, I woke Alia, who wanted to make an early morning Ossipee Lake beach excursion,and Jim to ask if he wanted to join us. 

The glassy lake greeted us, reflecting the cloudy sky. Loons called in the distance. Serenity permeated our souls as we stood and took in the beauty of God's creation. Faces of friends and family rippled through my consciousness as I prayed for each of them.

When it was finally time to head back to our cabin, I said one last prayer of deep gratitude for this place and the people here. 

We began packing and cleaning before heading to breakfast. After breakfast, there was still work left to bed one. My head pounding, my back spasming, I was unsure I'd be able to contribute much. Rake in hand, I slowly began to gather leaves into a pile for my two young helpers to put into barrels to be carted off and dumped in the woods.

It was a joy to watch them working together, encouraging each other!

Finally, it was time for worship. We sat with new friends, sang new and familiar songs, and got to experience the joy of acceptance of all people as we worshiped. Friends of differing abilities had enough of sitting in chairs and played quiet games of checkers and chutes and ladders nearby. The spirited laughter of a boy with autism bubbled to the surface every now and then and was met with smiles and understanding. 

As we packed up the last of our things, stripped and remade beds, swept, and took out the garbage, I once again thanked God for this place. It was where I needed to be and what I needed to be doing. For the price of hard work, we got to enjoy this place for a weekend. 

Following a delicious lunch, we hit the road. Jim would be starting his new job the next day, so we were eager to get home in time for dinner and a slightly early bedtime.

It was a wonderful weekend ... meals and accommodations provided in exchange for spending time working with amazing people. Nevertheless, there was a price to pay - for me, at least. I barely slept Sunday night due to the extreme pain I was in. My back, neck, and head all throbbing. Same for Monday night. And Tuesday. I've managed to get children to medical appointments, take teens shopping, even teach a Tuesday Night Sunday School lesson and sing in choir rehearsal, but it's been tough. When I don't have to be doing something, I'm in bed with heat on my back, ice on my neck and head, wishing I could sleep. I'm not sure how long it will take for me to recover from the weekend, but it was completely worth it. 

Living with chronic illnesses often means paying the price for doing things you enjoy. Most of the time it's worth the days or weeks of recuperation, especially since the alternative could be living life unfulfilled. 

I look forward to our return for eight and a half days this Summer. We're cutting our vacation in half due to Jim's new job, but that's OK. Any time spent at Calumet is time well spent. And it will give me a week of "vacation time" at home to recover from all that I'm sure we'll pack into that week.