Worry Warts and the Church Camp from Hell

Many years ago (and I mean MANY), I decided at the young age of 19 that I was going to be bonified Church Youth Director and felt "called" to do so. I talked with my preacher and he set me up with a small church across town as their new Youth Director and offered to pay me a whopping 15 dollars a month.rnI reported for duty the first Sunday of that month and was introduced to the congregation at the morning service. I was excited. After church, the preacher set up a youth luncheon so I could meet the kids. All went pretty well and they seemed like a nice bunch of teenagers. At the luncheon he announced that we would all be leaving first thing in the morning to go to a church youth camp and that I would be going too. Everyone seemed eager and happy to go. All except me. I had never done this kind of thing before and didn't know if I could handle it. Regardless, I was determined to give it my best shot. Now for the worry wart part. For many months, I had been nursing a seed wart on the face of my left thumb. It was driving me nuts. Nothing I tried got rid of it. Even after attacking it with a pair of toenail clippers until it bled, it just wouldn't go away, and seemed to get bigger and bigger. I was consumed with getting rid of it. Well, no time for that now. I felt I needed to concentrate on this new task at hand. Early that Monday morning we arrived at the church camp and loaded our stuff into 2 cabins, one for the boys and the other for the girls. One of our church ladies volunteered to stay with the girls. After we were settled in, the preacher walked into the boy’s cabin and announced "Well, you guys have a good time. I will be back on Friday to pick you up". My eyes must have bugged out like Dobby the House Elf from Harry Potter. I walked with the preacher out to his car and told him "Wait, I've never done this before!” Then he retorted "You'll be fine. See you on Friday!" I walked back to the cabin and looked into the faces of the 6 boys, whose countenances had seemed to change immediately to that of demon possession. From that point one, they didn't listen to a thing I said. They went to the daily gatherings at the Church Camp Cathedral, but that was only because the camp owners threatened everyone with expulsion if they didn't attend. Then the fun began. One day after lunch, I was walking back the cabin and saw the front door open, but only a couple inches. This seems odd to me, so I poked the door open with a stick. Suddenly a large plastic cup filled with pee came crashing down and barely missed me. Instantly I heard giggling in the background behind some bushes. The list of treachery went on and on. One of kids threw his down pillow into the wall attic fan and it exploded, putting a snow like layer of feathers over everything in the cabin. They short-sheeted my bed. They put mud in my underwear. They flushed the toilet while I was showering. The cursed me to my face. They snuck out at night to either smoke or to meet some girls in the woods. Needless to say I was miserable and completely frustrated. Finally Friday had arrived and the preacher loaded the little bastards into the church van. Then he asked "How'd it go?" Then I answered "Fine. I quit!” Luckily I had brought my own car and could leave without answering any additional questions. On the way home, I was going over the whole experience in my head, rethinking my so-called "call" to the ministry. Then I looked down and the seed wart was gone! No, it was not divine intervention, more like diverted attention intervention. The whole experience had been good for me. Showing me that what you pay attention to.... GROWS.