This is what I saw from my window last night as we crossed the sky back to North Carolina.

I couldn’t help thinking of Louis CK on Conan O’Brien saying, “I’m sitting in a CHAIR in the SKY.” How do we possibly take it for granted, this lifting off, pushing against gravity and seeing the world from the top down?

Coming home from camp is hard.

Even the 7-year-old who tagged along and mostly watched and wandered the grounds cried himself to sleep last night.  As I closed my eyes, a few tears trickled down my cheeks and my heart ached, and it’s difficult to articulate why.

It’s just SO good.

Home is not less good.  Such glory and greatness in the ordinary.

The intensity and luxury of those seven days is simply a gift of another kind.  Removed from ground zero, we're lifted out of our usual contexts.  The shared experience amplifies time, and we’re sure we’ve known these people longer than one week.

There is a particular freedom & joy unique to that space.  Freedom in being an individual in community with like-hearted brothers and sisters, joy in feeling truly understood.

We laugh and pray, sing and write, draw and build and make films.  We prepare meals and share them around tables with laughter and life stories and love for our differences and similarities.

When the vans are packed, as much as we need to be with our families and sleep in our own beds again, we dread & delay our goodbyes.  Seems a lot of drama, but it’s not.

We leave grateful & aware of how blessed we are to have been there.




And on our final descent, I ask myself how I can bring some of that sky down to the land that holds me.