Summer Camp

When you were young, did your parents send you to summer camp? I was fortunate to go nearly every summer, and sometimes for more than one week. There were all sorts of flavors of summer camp. My first experience was Camp Pattersonville. What a unique place that was. You drove up a winding, twisty, steep, one-car-only hill, backing down if you met someone coming the other way. Every few feet there was a sign that told you to honk your car horn, and they meant it! It told people at the top of the hill that someone was coming up so they didn't start down.

The cabins were quite rustic - screens for windows, bunk beds with not much mattress, outhouses that stank to the high heavens, and a ice cold pool where you were tortured every morning into learning how to swim.

Meals were an adventure. It was their sworn duty to teach young children proper table manners like sitting up straight, not leaning your elbows on the table, eating EVERYTHING on your plate, saying 'please' and 'thank you' - I can't tell you how many times I ended up with cleanup duty due to elbows on the table.

There were songs that are *still* stuck in my head, games played by the whole camp like capture the bacon and steal the flag, overnight hikes where you slept under the stars and found out how uncomfortable dew can make you feel, and brushing your teeth at the communal trough outdoors!

We learned arts and crafts like weaving long lanyards out of pretty colored strands of plastic or sewing a leather coin purse. We got to manage money every night at the camp store where you got snacks like ice cream cones and licorice. We cleaned our cabins for inspections, kept our assigned schedules, and scurried about in the 'wild.' We heard Bible stories, memorized verses, and drank bug juice.

Best of all were the evening campfires. Your whole cabin - all eight of us girls - walked down together and perched on a log in front of a huge stack of wood. The director lit the fire, and we sang together, toasting s'mores. Then we listened as he talked to us, telling us stories, teaching us about life, about God, about behaving. You could look at the stars, hear the tree frogs chirping, the locusts singing. Then, after the fire had died to embers and you were done yakking with friends, you sauntered back to your cabin guided by your trusty flashlight. You could shine it on the path and avoid stepping on something you would regret; you could wave it in the darkness ahead of you, illuminating bushes and other kids; you could point it into the sky and see how far up the beam would go before you lost sight of it.

Such a little light for such a huge darkness. When we were all heading back together, it wasn't so bad. There were lots of little lights pointing out lots of things. You could see the path, the landscape, the sky. One night my shoe lace was untied, and I stopped to tie it. When I looked up, everyone else had walked around a bend in the path and they were out of sight. I was alone and the darkness was closing in. My tiny light didn't do much to help me see where to go.

I was a bit scared. I knew if I just walked towards the sound of talking ahead I would be fine. But I also bumped into several bushes and unexpectedly jolted into little dips in the road, lurching forward awkwardly. I went as fast as I could without totally falling down. It was not comfortable having one flashlight against the night. I was greatly relieved when I turned the corner and came into the light of the few street lights scattered about the main compound. No one had really noticed that I had lagged behind, and I never said anything.

But I remember how scary and uncomfortable it felt. Sometimes when I am traveling along the path of cancer and I am experiencing what others experience - those predictable and 'normal' symptoms and reactions, it is encouraging to see by the little lights of those around me. Sometimes when I am going off on some unpredicted tangent and feel alone with the darkness closing in, it's a bit intimidating. I am always able to get relief by shining the streetlight of God's word on the situation.

It may be night, but I don't have to stumble in the darkness. Prayer keeps me in the compound where the lamp posts are. Thanks for everyone who is praying. I'm also praying for my friend Ann who just had a biopsy. She is in a lot of pain and doesn't want to take the pain meds because they make her sleep and she doesn't want to miss life by sleeping it away. So please add her to your prayers tonight. Perhaps the added light will show her a better way.