I Lied, Unintentionally (Of Course)

I didn’t sign off for three days like I told you I would. I lied. I tried to ditch you -tried with all my might. We arrived at a beautiful family camping ground (complete with lodge and zipline) just before lunchtime this morning. We put together our tents and felt like pinning gold stars to our chests for our awesome-ness (we used a ROCK in place of a hammer to nail our stakes down. I mean… come on! We were practically SheGuyvers!). We wiped sweat from our brows and pulled our hair up to keep cool. The sun beat down on us.
When it hid behind a cloud, we all sighed in relief.
And then “a cloud” became about ninety.

And we remarked how refreshing it was to hear the sound of slow, rolling thunder.
And we breathed the fresh air in and remarked how wonderful it was to SMELL the scent of rain on the air.

The rain began to fall gently down, so we put on our sweaters and put our rain ponchos in our pockets. Just in case.

We walked casually to the lodge, fully satisfied that we’d zipped our tent up. Just in case.
“Oh,” said I, as we sat comfortably in the lodge, “I think we forgot to zip up the windows in the tent.”
I saw a few of my little 12 year old girls heading back up to our tent-area to get their sweaters, so I said, “I’ll go with the girls and zip the windows up while I’m there.”

In the meantime, the gentle rain turned nearly torrential. I made sure the windows of the tent were zipped up and then I hopped out to check on the 12 year olds and see that they were safely in their tent and then I hunkered behind a suburban.

Naturally.

Well what would you do if you were assailed by a violent MASS of marble-sized HAIL in JULY?!
I finally made it BACK into my tent where I was able to unzip my window a little and keep an eye on the tent next to me. It was, after all, filled with some poor never-been-girl-camping wee sweethearts. I knew that I should have been with my girls instead of safe in my own tent. I knew that just a few feet away five little girls were trembling in fear and my presence -the presence of a leader -would calm them down considerably.
BUT that assaulting, horrible, biting, miserable hail was between them and I. It took me about 5 minutes to work up the courage to brave the pelting putrescence.
But I did.

I peeked out only to bring you this:

One of my girls had her bag packed by her Daddy because her Mom was (is) camp director and had to be up to the campground early.
Her Dad packed everything.
Except closed-toed shoes.

“My feet are numb,” she said, smiling all the while. At least she had her sleeping bag and cousin:

The hailing finally stopped, but not before obliterating the campground and ALL of the first years’ dreams. Within the hour, it was decided that we would return home. Within two hours, the news was delivered to the girls.

We set to taking down camp after an amazing devotional and delicious snack.
Some girls were fine and dandy about the whole thing:

Some. Were. Not.

We assured the girls that we would meet at the Young Women’s President’s house in the evening for a few activities, and that the entirety of tomorrow would be spent at the Stake Center, having loads of fun together.
But if you can’t be out in the woods enjoying the marble hail… the best place to be is Cat’s Garden:

As we walked into her backyard, the sun was giving out it’s last rays of the day. They spread a golden light over everything from the creek to the girls.

Does the world deserve these girls? Absolutely not. But it needs them.

I love how happy they are -whether they’re holing up in a tent or soaking in a creek… their grins are a constant.

I’m thinking I might need to start handing out waivers wherever I go.
Something like…”Alicia blogs; therefore, associating with her may result in your picture being plastered”… with room for signatures at the bottom.

Dolly moved while I was snapping this.

She was leading us in song -a song she tweaked for us. We’re going to be singing it tomorrow at the Stake Center.
So I’ll sign off again.

I love not camping.