For nearly a decade, I have truly been blessed with the seven summers I was able to spend a week of being a counselor at a Christian Youth Camp.
The memories are indeed too many: Small group bible lessons, archery, paintball, inside jokes about having too much bread (Wade and Hudson know), starlight devos, my alarm clock being thrown out by my co-counselor, sacrificing a pair of socks for a camper, out door movie nights, having another camper ask if I knew how to talk to girls (my initial response: “No one does.”), the countless nicknames I would give and be given (“The Cap” is the best nickname I have ever gotten).
Nothing else to say 