The words to a newly learned Kid’s Camp song are stuck in my brain: “We do dat stuff, do dat stuff!” The song “P-A-R-T-Y” by Jeff Slaughter of Brentwood-Benson Music Publishing was a big hit this year. Thank you, Jeff, for amazing and spirited music to turn our kids on to worshipping the Lord Most High!
While “do dat stuff” speaks of things kids do to praise the Lord, I must reflect for a few minutes on what “do dat stuff” means to me. Last Monday afternoon, we loaded up the kids in the church van and drove to the youth camp facility we have attended for many years. We piled on suitcases, bedrolls, sound equipment, boxes and ice chests of food, and 28 happy—ecstatic, energetic, and ready-to-go—kids!
But I have to admit that my level of excitement was not the same as that of the kids. Having spent the prior week shopping for and replacing my living room furniture, my back was already screaming at me. My bottles of Advil and Aleve were my closest companions. I had not considered that I’d be standing on a concrete floor for seventeen-hour days for the next week. Oh, and those mattresses at church camps are to die for. Or maybe it’s more of a feeling that you are going to die before you get back to your own bed.
The agenda for camp kitchen workers is simple: food, food, and more food. Busy, active kids are down-right hungry, so we feed them, and feed them, and feed them. Spaghetti, hot dogs, nachos, hamburgers, chicken strips, cake, ice cream, watermelon, cookies—non-stop it seems. Cook and clean, and then repeat the process multiple times over.
Yet, one just never really knows the far-reaching extent of serving in a camp kitchen. Some may see it as mundane, boring, or plain ole hard work. But for those who take a closer look, they might see a deeper meaning behind all the sweat and the achy feet. It can be a totally different picture if, in fact, one can see into the spirit world that:
• when you spread butter—you are spreading smiles on little faces
• when you give a slice of bacon—you are giving a slice of hope
• when you turn the pancakes—you are turning lives around
• when you hand out chicken nuggets—you are handing out nuggets of encouragement
• when you serve a heap of mashed potatoes—you are serving a heap of kindness
• when you stir a pot of gravy—you are stirring up God-given gifts
• when you peel carrots—you are peeling away fear and distrust
• when you warm the dinner rolls—you are warming hearts
• when you pour a cup of Kool-Aid—you are pouring a cup of grace
• when you mix up the cake batter—you are mixing in the love of God
• when you shape cookies—you are shaping little lives.
Between meals the kitchen staff brainstorms on how to do things differently next year. Questions flow—ideas follow. What might be a better meal? How can resources be used more efficiently? When and how to utilize left-overs?
On the last day of camp we pack up what is left (hopefully very little), clean the kitchen, scrub the bathrooms, and mop ourselves out the door. The children voice their sadness that the week is over, while the adults silently give thanks for the same.
Even though the church coffers might be less full, we are full of confidence that it was money well spent. There is simply no way to calculate the price of a soul or what’s it worth to change the life of a child. You just know that you gave because you have been given; you serve because you have been served; and you love because you have been loved.
We head for home as blessed and enriched individuals—young and old alike. And whether we have enjoyed it or barely endured, laughed at each other or at ourselves, improved our techniques or simply worn out our bodies, one thing is certain to happen this same time next year—we will “do dat stuff” again! ~ Janie Kellogg