Member-only story
There is Hope When Life Hurts
Experiencing Grief as Holy Homesickness
Summer Camp Blues
My first case of homesickness struck in the Missouri foothills. I was a ten-year-old at Camp Soaring Hawk and one of the few campers staying for both multi-week summer sessions. Although I had never been away from home before, things were okay while camp activities were taking place all day with new friends.
Then they left.
And I felt alone.
The camp was quiet and still. Too quiet and too still. Not the way it was supposed to be.
I began to feel sick. Not virus sick with a fever but heart sick with a hard to pinpoint longing. It was an empty feeling. Akin to loneliness. It strangely felt like grieving.
Camp was quiet and still. Too quiet and too still. Not the way it was supposed to be.
That’s it. I was grieving that camp wasn’t like it was supposed to be — filled with friends, activities, songs, and s’mores. I was grieving the temporary loss of my mother’s presence. Her food. Her hugs. Her voice. Her food. But most of all, just her being there.
This is not the way it is supposed to be. I wasn’t supposed to be away from home at ten, feeling alone and disconnected and isolated.
