“I think that’s a cult, hold Mommy’s hand, stay close.” Or something like “In a place like that they must handle snakes.” These are just a few of the many observations of outsiders as they drive past the depression style houses or tents as we know them. Holbrook Campmeeting is a mystery to many, but for me its place of salvation, family, faith and tradition. Nothing gets better than that.

What they don’t realize is that this is a very holy place. Campmeeting is a straight ten days in the middle of July, with three church services a day. We all spend these long days in a tent, not a camping tent, more like a plywood house with screen windows, a tin roof and no air conditioning. Many people would scowl at the thought, but as kid I just thought being there was better than winning a stuffed animal at the fair. But as I got older it really brought out the real reason we suffer through the Georgia July heat… to get closer with our families and friends and also renew our relationship with God. I couldn’t be more blessed to get to experience this tradition every year.

There’s an arbor resting in the middle of the circle of tents acting as a heart pumping the love of God to everyone around. It’s an old building, open on all sides; saw dust floors, a stage and an altar. This might not sound like much, but when you’re 11 years old knee deep in saw dust, tears streaming down your face, praying for your salvation in the same place your dad and his mom did; it’s simply breath taking. Nothing gets better than that.

Church is definitely a key component in those amazing ten days, but while you aren’t in the arbor you hear kids running around riding their bikes, with no helmets of course, swerving to dodge the toddlers cruising on their motorized Harleys and Mustangs. You witness someone going down “Dead Man’s Trail” for the first time trying not to pee themselves. Then there’s the occasional water balloon fight and the middle schoolers who think they are “too cool” to get wet, walk by and snobily say “I have my phone, don’t throw that at me dummy!” Then you see the high schoolers swinging on the front porch swings or baking in the heat playing basketball barefoot. Right around 5:30 you hear the eager children returning to their tents with gargling tummys eager to chow down. Then the aroma of freshly cooked southern food fills the air, homemade corn bread, roast that’s been simmering in a crock pot all day, cream corn, mashed potatoes and Mrs. Audrie’s rolls… Let’s just say you’ll need to go on a diet when it’s over.

Just like every good Banana Pudding comes to an end, so does Campmeeting. The final Sunday is a sad one to say the least. Everyone is up at the crack of dawn to pack up the tents until next year. Against your will, you get ready for church for the last time. Taking pictures and saying goodbyes to long friends as the sermon ends. The cars are all packed up as you pull out the gravel road gazing out the window, wondering how ten days could possibly go by that fast. As you reminisce you look back at all the lives that were changed, souls saved and memories made and as you leave yet again, you can’t wait to be back here in the saw dust next summer.