FamCamp

In retrospect, it was crazy.

To be honest, at the time it was even crazier.

In June, 2006, we were in the middle of a gut-wrenching move from Bloomington, IN, to Louisville, KY; Trent was working a new territory with a new manager so couldn't get away; and I decided to take our sheltered, innocent eight-year-old daughter to Tijuana, Mexico, to build a house with a Mexican family.

Because we had absolutely no construction experience.

And we didn't speak Spanish.

And also because she had never slept in a tent nor managed without electricity or running water. It had been a good twenty-five years since I had (thanks be to God).

So Trent was working in Kentucky. Sam and I spent Friday night at my parents' house in Indianapolis so we could catch the 7:00 am flight to San Diego. But my parents weren't home, so I arranged for a taxi to pick up us at 5:30 am.

Sam and I and our mountain of luggage (including the tent we had borrowed, tools, air mattresses, sleeping bags, clothes, Cipro (because the water), solar showers, and flashlights) waited and waited. No taxi. I called. And called. Finally at 5:50 am: "We have a driver en route to arrive around 6:30 am." WHAT?

We threw the bags in my (nearly empty of gas) car and I floored it. We made it to the airport in record time, screeched into a parking spot, grabbed the suitcases, and I chased down the airport shuttle that had just pulled away while my eight-year-old stared, wide eyed, at her crazy mother. I remember thinking, "God, I don't even really want to go to Mexico. And if we miss this flight I'm content to spend the week camping by Lake Monroe in Indiana. So if you want us there, You're going to have to get us there."

We made it to the gate with minutes to spare.

An article in the airplane seat pocket detailed the current drug situation in Mexico. It was not reassuring.

But then we arrived and set up camp.

Happy, happy, happy! (Feliz, feliz, feliz!)

By day two, Sam and I were plotting how to persuade Trent to join us for FamCamp 2007.

Our 2007 Mexico FamCamp family.

In 2008, we returned with my parents, my sister and brother-in-law, and our best friends from Bloomington. Crazy. Todos locos.

Each year brought new adventure, new heartache, new joy. 2009 was the year Sam sliced open her knee on a tent stake. "Quince puntos in mi rodilla." I can't explain why we returned to Tijuana after getting her stitched up at Balboa Park Naval Hospital in San Diego, except that there was no question in our mind that we would return. She had a knee brace and a makeshift crutch and a heart as bright as the desert sun.

We missed FamCamp in 2012 because we had just returned from Lesotho, Africa, with Paul. And we missed last year because Sam was in Germany and Paul just wasn't ready. We're crazy, but not that crazy.

This summer a friend from Spain is living with us, plus Sam is in the midst of travel softball, taking the ACT and preparing for a trip to Ghana.

So Trent decided to take our post-trauma, street-smart eight-year-old son to Tijuana, Mexico, to build a house with a Mexican family.

In retrospect, it's crazy.

Crazy love. Amor loco.