Our two oldest boys are going to Mission Camp this summer. It’s different from regular, summer, church camp in that they will actually be working on a mission project. And when I say working – I mean working. They will be spending time working on home and business improvements for families who live in the rural areas of Appalachia.
It is possible that they could be working on the homes of some of our own distant relatives, but that is a different post for a different day.
One of the things we have encouraged required them to do is to raise some (if not most) of their own money for these trips. We wanted them to have a sense of ownership over their trip, begin to acquire a solid work ethic, make it more meaningful if they worked for it, blah, blah, blah. And because we really didn’t have the $357 per kid to throw down.
So M and G have been doing some yard work, pet sitting, and any other odd jobs they can find to make money for their trips. They had a job lined up this morning that would entail some physical labor and they were getting ready to go.
That’s when G got sick. As in throwing up with a headache and generally feeling bad all over kind of sick.
And that’s when the youngest brother stepped up and said, “I’ll go in his place and whatever money I make I’ll give it to G, so he can pay for his camp.”
And that’s when I had one of those parenting moments that makes me feel like I’ve finally done something right But in reality it’s not about what I’ve done as a parent. It’s about what J is selflessly willing to do for his brother. It’s about what God is doing in the heart of a 9 year old boy.
And that, my friends, has no price tag.