When do you stop singing songs at the top of your lungs?
Pastor Laura and I are at Lutheridge this week with 17 confirmation campers. It’s been a great week, no doubt, and a wonderful time to experience these students on a different playing field.
On the way to lunch, I heard counselors leading their campers in singing. Well, screaming mostly. At the top of their lungs, leading chants with hand motions and cheers. They were on the porch of the dining hall, but I’m sure their voices could be heard all the way down the mountain. Especially one counselor – Isaiah, I think – who had a particularly loud voice that started to crack by the end of the chant. The kids were going crazy.
34 years ago I may well have been that counselor. Not that I was some crazy cool counselor or anything, but I do remember getting hoarse from singing at the top of my lungs.
I wonder when that ended?
I’m older, of course, so maybe that has something to do with it. More mature? Some days. Wiser? Definitely … and I’m glad for all that. I like being in this stage of life, with kids in different places, a job I love, memories of fun times in the past, and the anticipation of fun times in the future.
But I have to admit that I miss singing at the top of my lungs, unfettered and totally free. Listening to Isaiah sing/scream, I wished I could go back to that place in time.
That’s one of things I like so much about confirmation camp. Our 17 kids arrived with hesitation, maybe even some fear and trembling. They were anxious about meeting new people and worried about what others would think of them. But it’s Thursday, and, well, they’re starting to sing a little louder, dance a little crazier and laugh a lot harder. This morning, I saw Chris Kafitz totally let loose with a crazy man dance that made me laugh out loud.
Sure, I miss that in myself, but I sure am glad to see it in others. Because our life and faith is something to sing about at the top of our lungs. And maybe even do the crazy man dance every now and then.
