Last weekend we went on a Cub Scout trip. I am convinced that the whole idea was planned and designed by men who were once little boys and haven't forgotten it. We went to Patriot's Point in Charleston, SC. While we were there for two nights, we slept aboard the aircraft carrier Yorktown. We were able to explore much of the carrier, plus a submarine, a battleship, and a Coast Gaurd cutter. We also took a short excursion to Fort Sumter where the Civil War began.
I was less than enthused about the trip. I had heard from those who went several years ago how cold it was, and I anticipated so much climbing and walking that it would be confirmed how out of shape I am physically. In addition, I'm finally starting to have more stable days when it comes to the anxiety and panic attacks I have suffered from, but both the driving and the stress of long trips tend to kick it all up again. In spite of my reticence, I reminded myself that my two little boys were thrilled we were going, and I worked very hard not to complain, not to say no to anything, and to enjoy the trip and being with them. I was not disappointed.
It was actually a great trip. On the drive I listened to some teaching CD's which really challenged and encouraged me in my relationship to my beloved Jesus. I spent time talking to Him about all kinds of things, and asked Him particularly to help me sleep, remind me to take my meds, and to give me the stamina to keep up with the boys. I was also desperately in need of His strengthening of my trust in Him to take care of the boys because they slept with the other men and boys in the guys berth, and so they were out of my sight and care from Taps until after Reville. As He always is, Jesus was faithful and relieved my stress and worry. I slept great, felt great (except for sore, tired feet, but I can deal with that at Disney World, so I figured I couldn't complain about it), and woke every morning even before Revillie to take my meds.
Being with the boys was just the best. Their excitement and enthusiasm was delightful. And I am convinced that the whole concept of this trip was designed by men who hadn't forgotten that little boys love to steer, push buttons, flip switches, climb, pretend, and imagine. The boys did enough of it, and brought home their overflow, dressing up in army gear and playing war for days afterward. I took about a billion pictures, so it was really fun for me also--to have new subject matter to photograph.
The funniest part of the weekend was Sunday when we finally left. Girls may cry because they can't get their hair combed just right, or because somebody makes fun of their new dress, but boys cry because they gotta leave the ship! And mine did. Proving, of course, that it was a great trip. I'd even do it again. (In a few years!)