Last week I was holding hands with one of my seven-year-old girls, Holly, as we walked down the hill from the pool to the gym. She slows down, looks up at me and asks me how old I am. I told her "17". Looking crestfallen she hung her head and said, "awww, dang-it". When she didn't elaborate I asked her what was wrong. "I really wanted you to marry my dad," she said, "but he's 40."
At first I had to bite back laughter because the idea was so ludicrous and Holly was so sincere, but a few minutes later it struck me how sad it actually was.
The horrible truth is, Holly's parents are divorced and her mom is barely present in her life. She adores her dad but he himself struggles with drug-addiction. And Holly is one of countless campers who come from broken homes and families. So many parents send their kids to camp because they don't have time to take care of them. These children grow up without experiencing true love and they grow up believing lies about themselves, and thinking themselves worthless. It's really tragic and I just pray that the campers will remember the love they experienced at camp and that they will have tasted God's agape and goodness. I ask that you'll also pray that they were touched by the truth this summer and that they will be certain of their own value and significance.
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