When Church Camp Was for the Matrons

This year, I packed for church camp like always—sunscreen, rain boots, duct tape, extra socks. Ready for mud, ministry, and maybe a few pranks. I thought I was going for the kids. Spoiler alert: I was wrong.

Let me set the stage.

It rained. The whole time. Every game we planned got canceled or rescheduled. The camp schedule? Thrown out the window—or more accurately, washed down the storm drain. Dorm Wars? Ruined. Nothing went to plan. Not even the camp speaker, who retired the week before and had to be replaced last minute.

And then came the heartbreak. One of our campers—sweet, precious girl—lost her father in a tragic work accident on the very day she checked in. We had to find her in the middle of the evening service to get her home so her family could deliver the unimaginable news. She was taken home, wrapped in love and grief—and yet, in a display of strength that shook us all—she came back. She wanted to finish camp. She came back with a smile, with encouragement, with joy. Despite walking through the deepest valley of her young life, she was so positive and uplifting the entire week. She worshipped, she laughed, she poured into others. She was a shining example of grace and faith in the midst of sorrow. She didn’t just touch hearts—she taught us. Her presence reminded every one of us what it truly means to cling to Jesus, no matter what.

We had prayed up. We thought we were ready. But none of us were prepared for that. And yet… somehow, because we had worked together the year before, we were ready. Spiritually. Emotionally. Sister Brittany Lawrence, our fearless Head Matron, had called us to prayer a full week before camp. Every one of us had felt it—a heaviness in our hearts. We didn’t know why. But we knew we were about to step into a battlefield, not just for the kids but for ourselves too.

Because let’s be real—church camp draws all kinds of kids. Kids from whole, healthy homes. Kids from broken ones. Kids who’ve known safety and kids who’ve survived things they never should’ve had to. As a matron, your job is to love Jesus out loud in front of them. And also, keep their shoes on. (I swear, nobody wanted to wear shoes this week!)

And we did that. We loved and prayed and hugged and fed and tried to dry out soggy shoes. But that was only half of it.

The other half? That was for us.

There were ten of us in Dorm 6. Ten matrons from ten different churches. Some of us are pastors' wives, preacher’s kids, minister’s wives, or just good ol’ faithful church-goers. We have busy lives, loud kids, and wild husbands. We met at church camp mostly the year before. And in the middle of the chaos, the mud, the broken schedule, and the emotional rollercoaster—we bonded.

We prayed together. We laughed so hard we cried (and okay, maybe peed a little). We shared testimonies. We opened up about our current struggles. We wrapped golf carts. We cried for the camper whose world fell apart. We encouraged each other, supported each other, and reminded each other that we are not alone in our callings or our chaos.

That dorm wasn't just full of tired moms and Jesus-loving women—it was a sisterhood.

We would not allow the rain, the messed-up schedule, or the emotional weight to steal what God had for us. I even rolled in the mud (okay, fell in the mud, but that’s beside the point).

And personally? I needed this week.

I needed time with Kortni, because we don’t go to the same church anymore and I miss her like crazy.

I needed Brittany, because I wanted to be at an event where I wasn’t in charge and could just be.

I needed Ana and Jenna, because I needed to be reminded that encouragement is still a gift, and it has a place in God’s kingdom.

I needed Kristen, for her constant steadiness when everything felt like chaos.

I needed Tessie, to remind me that you can get up from the dirt (literal and spiritual) and keep going, even when your kids are being mean little brats.

I needed Datha, because she showed up without kids—just to be with us. She reminded me it’s okay to take time for myself.

I needed Kirsti, not just for her golf cart decorating skills, but because she reminded me that it’s a wonderful thing to make new friends and that it’s okay to jump in with both feet—even when it's messy. Especially when it’s messy.

And I needed Allison, this dear friend, to remind me that it’s okay to let go and let God. Most importantly, she reminded me that it’s okay to trust Him—even when I don’t understand.

This broken, rainy, thrown-together week? It was a divine appointment.

We went to serve the kids. But God met the matrons.

And I’ll never be the same.