Into the Woods, Part II

And back into the frozen abyss we go...

Where were we?

Ah, yes. About 6 weeks ago. I had just barely survived a night in a cabin hovering right at freezing temperatures.

On Saturday morning, we headed up to breakfast, where we were all greeted by sympathetic looks and pats on the back. Between my dragging Clay out in the middle of the night to fix our dying fire alarm and my tweeting desperate pleas into the universe, our story had spread through camp.

When I sauntered back into the cabin after breakfast, too sleepy to even cry, there was a man in our cabin fixing the heater.

My jubilation was what I imagine Mary felt when she found the angel in Jesus' empty tomb.

I wish I could say I was a really good sport-- that even though I was beyond exhausted, I pushed through in order to enjoy the beautiful camp and fellowship; that I zip-lined and bouldered in the 20 degree wind chill and hiked through the trails that sprawled all over camp.

I'd like to-- but I can't. Oh no-- I slept. I slept and slept and slept. So hard and beautifully that it was almost athletic. I slept so hard that I needed a Gatorade when I woke up. It was incredible. Save the thirteen year old girls that periodically came in to lay in their bunks and whisper back and forth-- and when I say whisper, it should be noted that thirteen year olds are not particularly accomplished whisperers.

So I maybe slipped up on the whole "Counselor Lindsey" attitude-- it's very possible that I forcibly kicked out the whisperers. Look, at this point, I was nestled into a cuddly wonderland, and my survival instinct demanded that these invaders be removed.

It is worth noting that the beds were awful. They're camp beds. My sheets were nothing special, and I had a quilt that hasn't been quite worn into quilty goodness. But it didn't matter-- I was so exhausted and wiped, that even now as I sit and write this, I think back longingly to that little cocoon I built for myself.

That night, we went to worship and played some games. I had been warned about the game-- it's called Man Hunt. Basically, the adults dressed up like pop culture icons-- I was Katniss; then we had Gandalf the Grey, Psy, Mayhem (from the commercials), and some others-- and hid in the woods. The kids were each given a sheet of paper to get signatures on; each adults was worth a different amount of points, and the first group that found each adult got a special token for extra points.

In a perfect situation, it would have been a really great time.

In THIS situation, it was below thirty degrees and I was out in the woods... again. This time hiding, in the dark, a mile from the camp, by myself.

Now, Clay had told me that if it was too cold, we wouldn't play outdoor game.

My idea of what is too cold and Clay's idea of what is too cold are clearly two very different temperatures. Evidently, Clay doesn't consider 25 degrees too cold.

So there I sat-- about twenty minutes before the students were released to search for us, another 30 minutes as they searched. The fifty minutes felt like a lifetime. A long, frostbit lifetime.

On the way back to the cabin, I called Alex to relay my suffering. By the time I got back to my cabin, I literally couldn't feel the hand that I had held my phone to my ear with. You see, I was told that if it was TOO COLD, we wouldn't be outside. So Yours Truly didn't bring gloves, toboggan, etc... Because when you need that kind of winter gear, it's TOO COLD to be outside for any length of time. I put my hands up to our miraculous heater-- still working!!-- and it was a bizarre thing to see my fingers and not be able to feel them. As soon as I gained some feeling back, I was able to wrestle myself out of all my layers of clothing and get into a scalding shower. Glorious.

And-- you guessed it-- I skipped the camp fire and s'mores that night. Back into my cocoon I went-- and after a night of shivering, you better believe everyone else, in their smug weather-appropriate sleeping bags, had to sweat out the second night as I slept peacefully through the snores.

Would I skip off into the woods again with the youth group in the middle of winter?

Absolutely. But next time, I'll bring my own space heater. And Hot Hands. And a heating blanket. And gloves.

And next time, it'll probably be unseasonably warm and I'll sweat the whole time and wish I had a fan. Because that's just my life.