The wife and kids and I are home from our week at Sa Ha Le for this year's youth camp. It was a fabulous week. I think I'm getting too old for this stuff... I'm exhausted. Anyway. The wife is asleep. The boy is watching 'Doogal'. The baby is eating salad, (and sharing it with the dog). The big girl is being very quiet, I better check on that. She's drinking 7up. It's nice to be home.
On the way up the mountain my van puked transmission fluid all over the highway and the bus I was driving threw it's power steering belt. We left the van on the side of the mountain and I drove 55 campers + various staff + my family from the van, all the way to camp with no power steering. My forearms are very buff and I now have six grey hairs in my beard. We arrived to camp safely and close to on time. Like I said, camp was fabulous and I will try to post more later.
For now, a wall of gratitude moment. My dad and I have a fairly... uh... fair relationship. In general we like each other, but don't seem to make too much time for each other. We live in seemingly different worlds. I live in a fundy church culture he left, and he lives in a world of family chaos I never imagined would be mine even with a "step" in front of it. Just to complicate things he's hard of hearing to a point where phone conservations are difficult and frustrating to both of us. I sometimes think he must be totally embarrassed by what I do, even though he goes out of his way to say how proud of me he is.
So on Sunday night, with campers anxiously awaiting the first chapel, and the van still sitting in it's own vomit, I called my dad and step-mom. I just wanted them to try to get the van to their house, which at the time, I was thinking was very close to their home. They bought a cart load of ATF and safely drove the van down the mountain, then all the way to my driveway. It was a very "Christ-like" thing to do and a very meaningful demonstration of the love this set of folks have for my family. My dad, who rarely attends church anymore, enabled some real life changing youth ministry to happen. That night, many students invited Jesus into their lives for the first time. There was a real authenticity to the altar time. And the evening set a wonderful tone for the whole week. I am so thankful for the parents God gave me. There's not a day that goes by that I don't remember, "I'm a Wotherspoon Boy!" I love my disFUNctional family and I am so glad my dad is my dad.