{Camp Preparation}

The morning of Sunday, August 5th, found us traveling away from The Chestnut Place toward Johnny and Brooke's hometown, Celje, where we'd stay for the remainder of our trip. The JV staff graciously hauled our team of nine hither and yon, and it became a daily occurrence to pile into the white van -- in addition to the staff's personal vehicles -- and be expertly escorted to our various destinations.

I was quite impressed with the many details the JV staff had to juggle while feeding, housing, and transporting nine extra people. They pulled it off flawlessly. My mother instincts never shut off throughout the trip, however, and I was constantly counting to make sure we had everyone. One, two, three . . . .

(No doubt this instinct was heightened because one of our students, Michael, failed to come off the plane in Gratz, Austria. We looked back, waiting for him to come down those steps . . . but no Michael. My mother heart went into mother bear mode. I would climb back on that plane and make sure he was okay! He could be frightened! He could be confused! He didn't speak German!!! But the attendant informed me that thunder and lightning threatened, so the rest of the passengers were to remain on that plane until a van could escort them to safety. So there we waited. And waited. Finally, the passengers were released, and we could breathe normally once more and make our way to the family and friends awaiting us.)

After arriving in Celje that Sunday, we joined the team for morning worship, where Johnny gave the message, which was translated by his friend, Marko. It was a joy to join our fellow worshippers in song. We recognized the melodies, but of course the words were unfamiliar. We tried our best to follow along, and I got about as far as deducing that "noš Bog" must mean "our God." I felt quite fluent in my discovery.

Following the service, we headed to the hostel, where we'd stay for most of our trip. The host warily eyed our large assortment of 50 lb. suitcases and commented, "Those are big bags." We inferred this must be unusual. (This guess was confirmed as we saw most people sauntering in and out of the hostel with mere backpacks. Well. Clearly they weren't hauling candy and curricula.) We headed toward the stairway, glancing from side to side, looking for the elevator that we were sure must be just around the corner. It wasn't. Up the stairs we went, giggling and grunting as we hauled those 50 lb. suitcases up . . . and up . . . and up.

Sunday afternoon found us back at the church where we had pizza for lunch and then quickly launched into preparations for the coming week of English Camp. We prepped the church grounds, reviewed the curriculum, games, and activities we'd planned, and learned that, when necessary, a straw broom can be groomed with garden clippers.

By Sunday evening we were tired but nervously excited for the quickly approaching Monday morning, which would reveal to us the ins and outs of the first day of camp. We enjoyed dinner at one of our favorite Slovene food carts -- Jamie and I could eat kebap on a regular basis -- and headed back to the hostel.

Climbing into the white metal bunks in our rooms that night, we girls found ourselves wrestling with the fitted sheets -- especially on the top bunks -- which produced another fit of hostel-induced giggles. We were definitely a little tired, a little nervous, a little unsure of what to expect for the next day. But we conquered those fitted sheets and finally fell into an exhausted sleep. Perhaps we could successfully navigate the first day of camp, as well.