My favorite tradition is going camping. We would gather together with a big group of
families from our ward and set off on a wilderness adventure filled with tin
foil dinners, campfire smell on your clothes, cold water that makes you feel
alive, and squishing as many people that we could into a hammock that was only
meant for two. All us kids would go exploring and hiking through the woods.
One time
we went up this hill and it was so steep, that you felt like you were upside down,
it was the weirdest feeling in the world. But as a kid, it was magic. And
when we jumped into that freezing water, we didn't focus on the cold, but looked forward to the feeling of accomplishment after, when we hit the
sometimes-warm-shower. And then we would huddle around the campfire at night
and just listen to the stories, because we were so tuckered out from
all the frolicking the day.
One time we
woke up to a huge storm right outside our tent. The wind was howling, the rain
pelted our tent (personally I've always loved the sound ) and my friend Monica
and I were holding onto each other for dear life. Then we heard a noise that
sounded, I kid you not, like a UFO. Like a UFO was taking off right outside
our tent. It being 5 o'clock in the morning and the lack of sleep, I
legitly thought it was a real UFO. I was praying "please Heavenly Father,
please don't let the little green men take me." As I look back mom thinks
it was the start of a tornado or some type of wind funnel, either way it was
probably the scariest moment of camping but an amazing story to tell.
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