An Anecdote

Raspberry Ridge. It's like an idea, a place, and something quite out of reach at the same time, so please forgive the haziness of this post.

The week was hard. The people were sometimes very hard to work with. Tears were shed. Sweat was wrought (especially because it was the hottest week of the summer so far). Patience was tried. Instruments were almost mangled by the humidity. And yet, through it all, God was glorified. By the end of a week and two days, everyone was tired.

A small anecdote of how tired I was the very last day of camp (jr.):

It was early in the morning, about 8:30, and the junior orchestra was playing a rousing, squeaky variation of some song, which I don't remember because of the fog I was in. Gram, the dear, sweet, old lady who owns the property and lives there with her husband Jack, had just come out of the house with an aerosol can in her hands. The previous day I could remember seeing someone walking around with a bottle of WD-40 in their hands to use on something, so in my fog, I automatically assumed that Gram had the bottle of WD-40.

My thoughts when I realized that she was walking into the tent that housed the junior orchestra and its squeaky music was, oh, that's nice! Gram's going to take WD-40 and use it to make all the squeaks in Junior orchestra go away. To which I automatically shook my head and stared at myself.

My goodness was I tired.

When she walked out of the tent, past me, I found to my relief that she was holding a can of wasp spray. She was merely going to wreak havoc on the wasps in the barn again. Apparently she had wandered into the tent seeking, for some reason, an industrial stapler.