Family Camp Irony

I’m spending this week leading worship and speaking at a family camp in Michigan’s favorite opposable — the thumb. God has been here and is great; the people are wonderful; the food is great. However, the irony is that I’m at a family camp without my family. Emily and the kids are back home. The camp I’m at has been gracious in offering a place for the whole gang, but we decided it would be challenging to keep our offspring properly wrangled. As it turns out, the doors have locks. Perhaps it would have worked ok.

I wish they were here.

It’s ok. I’ll be home soon. And ministry will have happened. And I will hug my wife and children tight (not too tight, though). And the Lord gets the glory. And I’ll smell like camping. And all will be just fine.

PS: Happy birthday to you. You know who you are.

About radamdavidson

I'm a husband, dad, and pastor living in Portage, Michigan. I suppose I'm a euphoric melancholy generalist with average skills, experiences, and passions across several intertwined disciplines and hobbies including music, speaking, writing, leadership, ministry, and collecting cultural artifacts from the 1980's -- mostly vintage boomboxes. You can read my blog at, subscribe to my podcast (RadCast) or friend me on
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