How will I Deal with College if I Can't Handle Church Camp?

     Maybe you're like me.  I don't know what it is, but there's the strangest mix of joy and sorrow when you drop your kids off at away camp.
      For whatever reason, this year was the first time we were brilliant enough to send all four kids to church camp during the same week.
       The.
       Same.
       Week.
       Days prior led to busy packing and planning from check lists via our daughter (who is 100% her father).  She organized everything down to her toothbrush and first aid kit, because what nine year old doesn't take a first aid kit to camp?

      It wasn't until the night before - we asked the boys if they were packed and ready to go when we were met with three blank stares.  (Ready?  Ready for what?)
      Staying up through the wee hours of the night, Adam and I organized, packed and prayed they would actually change their underwear, but we also wondered what the house would be like once they were gone.

     The morning arrived.  Nervous energy opened my eyes as we went over the final checklists with the kids.  It became obvious we needed to let things go when one of the boys calmly explained, "Mom, don't worry.  None of this really matters.  Last year I only changed my clothes like, once."
     God help me.
     Pulling up to the camp, we lugged bag after bag out of the car and the kids eagerly looked to see which cabin they would have and who they'd be camping with.    

     Beds were made, toiletries put away and the delicate dance began of wanting to snuggle your babies like schmoopy, new born puppies, as opposed to giving them a quick fist pump to avoid complete and utter mortification in front of the other campers.

    ...and just like that, they were gone.

    Like I said before, joy and sorrow.  Taking my hand, Adam and I walked to the car together and alone.  "How will I deal with college if I can't even handle church camp?" I whispered.  Squeezing my hand, he nodded as the unnatural feeling of leaving your kids with no communication, no way of knowing if they'll have fun, get scared, get strangled by an 18 foot long, deadliest snake in the world, or simply get eaten up with mosquito bites.
    But the joy.  No kids for a week.  NO KIDS FOR A WEEK.  No fighting, no cleaning, no dishes, no laundry, no nagging, no cleaning, no cooking, no yelling, no cleaning (did I mention the cleaning?) no responsibilities of any kind, whatsoever, Good Lord, WHY hadn't we done this before?  In fourteen years I don't know if we've had an entire week without the kids. like. ever. 
    A wonderful week it was.  If we were smart, we would've planned a trip or a getaway, but we didn't.  We didn't do much of anything, but the house was blissfully quiet and calm.  Even the cat wandered the halls lost and confused.
    Within no time, the morning arrived.  We couldn't wait to wrap our arms around them and squeeze them like crazy no matter what.  We wanted to hear about everything, every adventure, every good thing, every bad, every detail down to the last S'more.
    Lauren Elizabeth was first with a running attack as she jumped into our arms. 

    The boys followed with smiles and hugs and endless energy, coupled with pure exhaustion. 
​     Brothers and sister were reunited after not seeing each other from different parts of the camp all week...

     ...and we all happily made our way to the car as birds sang, butterflies fluttered and families of deer stopped to lift their heads from chewing as though to wave us goodbye.  This all lasted until we pulled out of the parking lot mind you, but for one minute...one small minute...all was perfect in the world with four happy and love filled kids.
     Maybe that's what it'll be like when they eventually one day really do leave the nest.  The hardest part will be in letting them go, only to be so greatly exceeded by the joy of seeing them return again. -minus the laundry.