Passport version 1.0

    As a rule, I don’t like children.  They can be cruel, self centered, and defiant.  People will often point out that I in fact have a child, and I explain that he is the exception because he is mine.  

    Can he be cruel?  Occasionally.  Is he self centered? Just take him to Target some time.  Defiant? Every night is a complex series of arguments, negotiations, and stall tactics to delay the inevitable bed time.  The difference is, he is my kid.  I am doing my best to mold him into a non-smoking, minimal tattoo having, prison avoiding adult with a job and a reasonably happy and fulfilling life.  

    By the same logic, I feel pride when he masters a new skill for the first time or finds something he is passionate about or conquers his fears.   

    I like my kid. Just not all the others, because they aren’t mine.  

   I was recently laid off from my job, and one of the guidelines that I set up early on for my unemployed time was to say “Yes” to as many different experiences that I could.  When I was asked if I wanted to chaperone a trip to Passport Kids, I said “Yes” before I could talk myself out of it.  

   I was not looking forward to being around so many kids.  I saw how children behaved at scout meetings and school events.  They were loud.  They didn’t listen to anyone.  Maybe I could just nap in the cabin during the day and work on my resume’.  

    Within the first few hours of Passport Kids, the adults met for the first time.  One of the camp leaders asked if anyone would volunteer to assist with a Bible study group.  I was really mad at myself for making that stupid “Say ‘Yes’ To Everything” rule.  

     I walked into a Bible study class that was already under way.  I introduced myself, and the Bible study leader asked me to collect the forms where the children wrote out their choices for afternoon free time.  As I was collecting the forms, I addressed the children with a serious tone, “If you are signed up for the afternoon skydiving class, please turn in the notarized permission slips that your parents sent with you.”  A few asked incredulously for more information about the fictional  skydiving class, and I replied with a deadpan, “I’m sorry, but you can’t take it unless your parents had the form notarized.”  A couple other kids realized that I was joking, and the Bible study leader (who I think may have regretted asking for an assistant) assured the kids that there was not in fact a skydiving class.  

    After Bible study I ended up chatting with a couple of the kids about comic books and movies.  Later at dinner, I overheard some girls from the Bible study group talking about soccer and we talked about who we like better  on the U.S. team, Rapinoe or Wambach.  

    That night, when the kids from our church were starting to wind down, I introduced them to one of my favorite card games “Aquarius”.  There were a few disputes, but generally they resolved them on their own with the occasional good natured teasing.  

    As the week wore on, I found myself being more patient with the kids from our church and in my Bible study group than I ever thought I would be.  I would correct them when they were out of line, but found that I was also incredibly proud of them when they would lead in worship, offer insightful answers during group times, or show kindness to other campers.  

    It slowly dawned on me, that not only were the kids from College Park Baptist becoming “My” kids, but I realized that as part of the family of God, I was responsible for and connected to every kid at Passport.

    We tend to think of our families as insulated units. We mentally compare how are kids are doing compared to others.  Spending the week at Passport Kids reminded me that I have a duty to nurture all kids, not just the ones whose parents look and think like my wife and I.

    I still only like “My” kids, but a week at Passport showed me that I have a much bigger family than I once thought, and it keeps growing.