The Christian camp where my husband, Frank, is operations director is open year-round. It’s a big job. Sometimes it takes all five of us—Frank, me and our three sons— to keep it going. We host all kinds of groups. Who wouldn’t want to spend time in a lake house, surrounded by 78 acres of rolling hills? It’s a relaxing getaway for our guests. For Frank and me, it’s hard work. Especially during the summer, when we run our own children’s camp. In the evenings, we’re lucky if we manage an “I love you” before falling asleep.
Yet somehow, after 20 years, we’re as close as ever. How do we do it? The answer lies in six simple words: “Meet me at the golf cart.”
The golf cart came to us our very first summer at the camp. There was so much to do and so much to learn. There was barely time for a quick hug before we had to go off in different directions—sometimes miles away from each other. Frank and I were working together every day, yet I’d never felt so distant from him.
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