Boy Scout Camp

When my oldest son was twelve years old, he went to Boy Scout camp. It was his first camping experience and it lasted a week.

The fathers were invited to come out on Wednesday night, to eat supper and to spend a few minutes with our sons. When I arrived, my son met me with sobs, begging me to take him home. At the end of the night, he walked me to the car, tugging on me all the way. It was unbelievably hard to drive off and leave him there.
I worried about him for the rest of the week. I saw him in my mind's eye, sobbing day and night. But when I picked him up on Saturday morning, he was all smiles. He introduced me to his new friends, and there was no mention of Wednesday night.

And the truth is: you are going to live through your crises, too.