Growing up, we went to camp in the summers. The last summer we went was the summer after my parents bought the farm. After that year, we spent all of our time at the farm, outside of the three summers we spent a month in Mexico. Thank goodness, because by that point in time, all I wanted to do was ride horses all day (special thanks to my parents for making that happen). However, that is a story for another day. 

OK, where was I. Oh yes, I was scrolling through the ‘book of face,’ as you do, and saw some pictures of the big sister of my Middle Sister’s friend. Confusing to read, I know. Anyway, she was one of the many councelors at camp. 

If I remember correctly, at meal times, campers sat in assigned seating that was changed every week so campers throughout the camp of all ages could get to know one another. Each table had a counselor as the head of the table. It was likely my first year, but I do not remember. That sister of my Sister’s friend was the head of my assigned table one of those weeks. 

At that time (and for a very long time…another story for another day), I was an extremely picky eater. Like, basically ate only five things, picky. Everyone at my table kept messing with me because I was not eating what was served. Trust me, if I could have eaten the food to make them stop and get the attention off of me, I would have. Sister of my Sister’s friend recognized what was going on. She quietly pulled me aside and taught me where to get a loaf of bread and peanut butter to make my own sandwich (without jelly, because that just would not do). I have a feeling she probably said something to some of the campers at our table too. 

I will always remember her for that. For her kindness and grace. She didn’t owe me anything. I didn’t even know who she was at the time. I honestly think that is my favorite memory from camp. 

Funny the things you remember. 

Walk in love, dear readers.