Last night, six of us old Methodist Scouters went out to eat at an Indian restaurant, followed by dessert at the Italian place up the street. It was just what I'd been needing. This morning, we pitched in on a marathan, three-meetings-in-a-row, six hour session of get-er-doneness. Everything went well. Good decisions were made. There was lots to celebrate. A solid slate of officers was elected. I'm on the way out. And then five of us went out for a late lunch/early dinner at the seafood shack behind the Upper Room. It was like Old Home Week.
At the end of the meetings, the Board said they wanted to present me with something for my service as President, but they were frustrated that there wasn't any appropriate award to give me, since I already have every. last. one. of them. So they gave me a couple of certificates of appreciation, and with them a set of inscribed Strength for Service devotionals for my crew members bound for Philmont. Oh, you know how to reach me, guys. I don't need another award, but when you love my kids, I feel your love for me more than you will ever know.
And then it was zooming up the highway to get back. The drive wasn't easy on my guts, but then my belly has been increasingly weird and painful for some time now. I'm getting slowly worse instead of slowly better. Maybe it's all normal and everything, but I feel like I need to consult one of my doctors. I called Deanne from the highway to ask her to pray, since I couldn't decide what to do with my schedule for this week: five days of Family Camp. I hate, HATE canceling things. I live by my promises and I believe in going forward, all the time. But I was afraid that if I just tried to tough it out this week, by the time I could see a doctor, I'd be really screwed up. Yet, I didn't feel comfortable making the decision based on hunches and aches-and-pains. So I told Deanne to pray, and I put in a CD and drove it from the squirrel cage of my brain. By the time I was home, I found I'd decided that I needed to punt on Family Camp and get my belly seen to this week.
Which means I owe four kids a major trip. So, Neely, Ian, Logan, and Abby: HERE'S MY I.O.U. for one (1) big, honkin' trip. Payable as soon as I get my tummy issues cleared up.