Camp.

I am at camp.

I didn't really go to camp as a kid.

But this week I am at camp. As a counselor.

There are kids at camp.

I don't really know if kids like me.

But this week I am with the kids at camp. Being their counselor.

In hopes of not failing miserably, I have been trying my hardest to be what I would want a 20-something camp counselor to be if I was a high schooler at camp: Witty, spunky, dance-y, Jesus-loving-y, and incredibly surprising.
So far to date my biggest claim to fame has been to lead all of my troops in a little plan I like to call "Sabotage the Worship Leader." Whether it be leaving him sneaky notes when he comes to do a clean-check on our cabins, finding ways to make critiques on his skinny jeans and insanely deep V-neck shirts, or, my favorite, having my girls take secret-snapshots of him throughout the week so that this morning we could make a gallery of Creeper Photos that he saw immediately upon walking into our cabin.
He walked in to see if our cabin was clean.
He found a wall of photos of himself that he didn't know we had taken.
With a sign that said, "Hey Luis, you just got creeped on."

Anyway. When I get back to civilization I will post pictures and tell you more to the story. Because there IS more to the story.

Jesus is pursuing you, wolfs. Don't ever doubt that.