Camp 2010

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”  Psalm 46:10

I long ago realized that camp was far more about me than any child I ever took.  Camp just seems like a place that God is closer, or at least easier to hear from.  I come from a family history of camp.  I remember my aunts heading off to Burnumwood for weeks at a time.  I was part of the long drives to get them long before I was old enough to go myself.  I couldn’t wait for that first weekend as a camper.  What a place it was.  I heard songs never sung at my church and for the first time read from something other than a KJV Bible.  For years I thought they were the only place with Bibles in common English.  I loved reading those hard backed books!  This was the first place I ever had a quiet time, sang a praise chorus, or saw drama in worship.  We played capture the flag, looked at stars, and slept outside without a tent.

When my girls got old enough I started looking for the same experience.  Secular camps are not the same and too often, church “camps” have become more like conferences than an old fashioned checkout from technology, meet with nature events.  Sure there is a place for these, but I wanted to make sure they didn’t miss out on what was so great about my camp experience.  Thank you Cedarmore.  Cedarmore is set in the woods with gravel walks and log cabins filled with bunk beds.  The dining hall has a slamming screen door and hot water is a valuable commodity.  The schedule is full but leaves plenty of room for singing on the hill, doing hair, and playing outside.  I love that it is all girls because it can be girl empowering without being beat the boys.  My favorite part is always the missionaries.  MIllie Reule and Deborah Cortner planted a love of missions that has never gone away.  I am completely taken with God’s work through ordinary people sold out to His plan. 

This year the missionaries were from a middle east country that has every material item you could want but is almost entirely Muslim.  It is in fact, not legal for them to be there as missionaries.  She (won’t mention names for safety reasons) taught the daily adult Bible study.  It was awesome.  She began each day by having a few people share testimonies.  The room was filled with really broken people that God was redeeming and using for greatness.  Doesn’t it take you back to realize that those whom have much don’t really let God use them the way those in pieces seem to?  I once heard an example of how God’s power and light shines through broken vessels, but is simply hidden inside the seemingly perfect ones.  How precious each story was.  But, here also was an opportunity to be a student.  Many times those willing to come to camp are also those teaching at home.  How refreshing to be the student.  The Bible verse that most hit me was Pslam 46:10. I have heard and read this verse many times.  I pause for a moment, express my frustration to God and then push on.  I am surrounded by people who largely think this verse is a joke. Okay,maybe a pipe dream but certainly not a way of life. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”  After all, aren’t we just supposed to go till exhaustion and then drink a red bull?  Umm… not quite what the verse says.  See most of us, myself included, seem to think that the gospel is about us.  God tells us to be still because rest is a good thing for ME.  But, if you read the whole verse we realize that it is a good thing for God.  See,if I be quiet, it is God whom gets the glory.  If I step back,it is God whom gets the praise.  Not me, God.

There were plenty more camp lessons I need to ponder like the sweetness of little girls singing away the miles sans ipods.  Or God’s protection while they are hanging from a wire soaring through the trees.  Or just the need to live with margins so that when hiking to the lake there is time to stop and breathe deeply of the delicious smells in the flowered bend in the path, and watch the amazing number of butterflies doing the same.  I hope the girls had a good week.  Their leader definitely did.

Skills We Have

Sometimes it takes the space of a year to really see accomplishment. Last year, as this year, I struggled to get to softball games. At one of the first games I did make last year, this lovely redheaded mom came running to me asking "Are you the coach's wife? I have really wanted to meet you." Turns out, they too had a daughter with many of the same issues as L, but no diagnosis (a troubling place to be). We talked quite a bit last summer, and then have run into each over over the winter. Enough for me to feel like her daughter C was making great progress and we were standing still. She was walking, sitting independently. And while we are thrilled for them, it is hard to not be jealous. Sometimes I need to do an emotion check and not unlike the Berenstain Bears book where they become consumed with Bearbie dolls and video games, be reminded to count my blessings. The mom on Table for 12 commented last season "I would be happy to feed Rachel (daughter with CP) for the rest of her life, but I think drinking from a straw would be a really nice skill for her." Ahh, a count my blessings moment. L can't hold the cup, but she can drink from a straw or a regular open mouthed cup. That people, means freedom. I reread my post from August about yes, no,and more. Last night that lovely red head watched L at the ballpark and commented on L's communication and what they would give for that. Keep counting Mama. L is making animal sounds-lots of them. She recognizes and says, pink, purple and yellow. She can pick out almost anything in the books we read,and has definite favorites. She participates in motions with songs like "Happy and you know it". If you can ask enough yes and no questions, you can figure out what she wants. She signs eat, sleep, music, and potty. Yes, she is going to be potty trained. We aren't walking or sitting criss cross or many other things, but a year ago she was barely getting yes and no. Now she crawls to me with her favorite color nail polish and points to her hands. This week, as it stormed outside, she pushed off my shoulder at bedtime and said "thunder, Mama." Yes, baby, just like the Berenstain Bears, it sometimes takes a little thunder to remember how much we have.

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

How does your garden grow??

With children sweet….

 

and dirty feet,

And plants in boxes not rows!!

I just love the garden.  I love my morning meetings with earth worms and weeds.  I love the feel and the smell of soft black dirt in my hands, and the daily discovery of something newly sprouted.  Bright berries peek from under leaves, and J blows off the dirt before popping them into his mouth.  He debates with me all the reasons I should NOT plant red sweet corn, only yellow.  L repeats “lello”. J finds her a berry.  B takes over her own box to fill with wildflower seeds, and of course we weed.  We anxiously await the future blueberry and raspberry harvests and vow to find what creature is eating the broccoli.  I delight in finding that Brian has staked my babied heirloom tomatoes brought from Aunt Drue in Bracken county.  Better yet, a scoop of manure form the barn. I think J assumes the dirt piles are just for his truck playing needs.  I wear my funny straw hat from southern states, and L eats grass.  We take pictures like proud parents, squeal at bugs, and plan for the harvest.

This is a few weeks old, this box now looks like a rainforest.

Couldn’t resist the view.

Is there anything sweeter than fresh picked strawberries??