A couple of days ago it was Family Day at the camp that Alec
is currently attending. Before I tell
you about Family Day, let me tell you about how the schedule is set up at this
camp. The campers arrive on a
Sunday. The following Saturday is Family
Day and then the campers have two more weeks of camp, sans family visits. All alone with people they have just
met. At least for the new campers, the
ten year olds, they are people they have just met.
When I dropped my oldest child, my first-born son, off at
camp it went something like this: he went with his cabin coach to unpack and
change clothes while the boys and I waited, he returned in his camp uniform,
bouncing across the campground like a spring that has been waiting for an
eternity to finally be sprung, he hugged me, looked up and said “bye”. Um, that’s it? Seriously?
This momma had a hard time with this one. Much like on his first day of kindergarten
when he looked over at me, my face full of worried anticipation of the separation
tantrum that was to occur in three….two…one……and then this – “Are you still
here?” Yep, I expected that my child, my
first-born, who had never even been in daycare, would exhibit at least a small
amount of trepidation about his first-ever school day. I was wrong. It was foreshadowing: a glimpse into how it
would go down when I dropped him off at camp five years later.
I am not sure why I build these things up in my mind to be
so much more than they are ever going to be.
I don’t know why in these particular moments, when I have to release my
child, my first-born, to the care of others, I expect that he will rebel or
fight to stay with his mommy, or at least freaking whimper. But he does not. He goes into new experiences unafraid and
without a fight. He is not an alpha male
by any means, but he is not afraid to give things a try either.
Fast forward to Family Day.
When Alec turned to see me and his brothers standing on the campground,
he was instantly in my arms, tears flowing.
His words told me that he was happy to see me; but his eyes betrayed the
truth: he wanted to come home; he’d had enough of this camp business and was
ready to return to the familiarity of family and long days of arguing with his
brothers. He wanted his mom and he
wanted his house and his bed and he wanted his normal routine. He wanted so much to be back in College
Station, back in the familiar reality that requires no courage, where excitement
does not wane at the end of the day when there is nothing left to do, where he
belongs.
Alec and I made a commitment to this camp: it is an
invitation-only camp and by accepting his invitation, Alec took a spot at camp
that could have been taken by another boy.
We, together, discussed this many times in the weeks preceding camp, and
we, together, decided to make a commitment.
At that moment I know that he wanted more than anything in the world to
break his commitment. He just wanted home. But that is not how we do things. That is not who I am raising my son to
be.
I never entertained the idea of letting him come home with
me that day and I am so glad that I didn’t.
During my time at Family Day I spoke to the wonderful lady who, along
with her husband, runs the camp. She
knew that Alec was feeling homesick and that he had been for several days. But she made it clear to me that his
homesickness was only in his down time.
She made it clear to me that during every other moment of every day,
whether he felt sad or not, he put his head down and did what he was supposed
to do; he did what the coaches asked, he participated fully in every activity,
he was a committed camper. He was
exactly who I am raising my son to be.
It was hard to say goodbye to him when we left the camp that
day. But it was not hard to enjoy the
pride I felt in my son and the way that he is showing his character every
single day at that camp. The way he is
charging ahead, doing what he committed to do and enjoying it even though he
sometimes feels overwhelming homesickness, the way he is handling himself in a
difficult situation makes me proud. And hopefully
it makes him proud too. Hopefully this
is an experience that will teach him that even when you temporarily don’t like
it anymore, even when it is so much easier to pack up and go home, even when
giving up seems like a viable option because your mom is standing there and she
could give you a ride home; it is still possible to see things through to the
end and to fully honor your commitments.
That night I got a call from the man who runs that camp with
his wife. He called to let me know that
though it was hard for Alec to see us drive away, and there were some tears,
Alec had stepped up to the plate, dried his eyes and fully re-engaged in the
camp activities, and that he was happy and doing amazing. He called to thank me for sharing my son with
him and his camp; for allowing them the time to get to know Alec and to see
what a great kid he is. He called to
commend Alec and to thank me for not pulling him out of camp, for choosing
instead to honor our commitment.
The thing is this: my boys never cease to amaze me. Just when I thought I have Alec all figured
out and I know exactly what to expect from him, he pulls a fast one on me. He exhibits independence that leaves me in
awe; he feels sadness so deep that it brings him to tears and then he turns
right around and shows what he is truly made of. My Alec, my child, my first-born; what an
amazing young man he is turning out to be.