The Gauntlet

We couldn't have imagined how spending the last week of June over the past 13 years at Pine Cove Family Camp would mark and shape us. As we come upon our first summer having officially "aged-out" of family camp, I'm inviting you into a glimpse of memories over the next few posts that make me smile and some that make me laugh out loud.

Our First Year

Big Blue was packed to the brim as our new family of 9 made the 3-hour journey from Tomball to Tyler for our first Pine Cove Bluff's Family Camp in June 2013.

We had NO IDEA what to expect. I only packed for 5 days not knowing that camp was Sunday through Saturday. About 10 months prior to our first time at Pine Cove, we were in Colombia completing our adoption. Going from a family of 5 to a family of 9 was something none of us could totally prepare for. It was much like my packing list for Pine Cove. I thought I had planned and prepared enough with trainings and reading all the books, only to find out I came up short. I didn't know what I didn't know.

While in Colombia, we were contacted by Pine Cove and told a generous family had gifted us a week at camp the following summer. The family that paid our way for camp wanted to remain anonymous, so we didn’t get a lot of information before piling in Big Blue and finding our way to The Bluffs.

When we arrived at camp, we were greeted by a couple of college-age counselors at the gate who had a rose for me and a cold root beer for Jeremy in hand. They kindly asked a few questions to get to know our family and offer a warm welcome.

We rounded the corner to find almost the entire staff of college-age counselors jumping and cheering, ready to escort our family to check-in and carry all our luggage to the cabin.  Later we learned that this welcome activity including a pack of jumping and cheering young adults was called “The Gauntlet.” We also learned that families lined up at the gate eager to enter before camp officially opened. Each year we made it our goal to be closer to the front of the line.

Surrounded by gleefully screaming Pine Cove counselors, we rolled down the windows as we pulled to a stop. The kids remained frozen in their seats. 

Our teens were terrified and didn’t want to get out. What was happening? What was this kind of welcome? Our adopted Colombian kids had been home 9 months and still only spoke Spanish. We tried to reassure them and coax them out of the van as a number of counselors were waiting patiently and excitedly for us to emerge from Big Blue. Our friends had told us that many families decorate their vehicles with shoe polish on the windows when they go to camp. We had invited the kids to write on the windows before we left home, but the happy faces and phrases painted on our van windows did not reflect the shock and fear painted on my kids’ faces once we arrived.

With all the unknowns it could have been a disastrous week. That first night as we were all going to bed in a one-room cabin, Jeremy asked the kids to just go into the week with an open mind and try to be grateful for the tremendous sacrifice someone had made for our family of 9 to be there. They reluctantly received his request with little response. Little did they know what this week would mean to them and to us.