"I simply remember my favorite things..."

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens,
Brown paper packages tied up with string,
These are a few of my favorite things…."
-Rodgers/Hammerstein

My time at camp draws to a close.  I will pack up my quilts - worn, soft, and faded from years of snuggling, my scuffed and dusty cowboy boots, and my tear-stained journal in two days and begin my journey across Kansas towards my other "home". 

But there are some other things that won't fit into a duffle bag, camp trunk or satchel…these are the stories of healing, friendship, and transformation that are the most important part of what I will bring home with me.  They don't need to be packed…they already sit snuggly - immovably in my heart.  This summer there are so many that my heart feels ready to bust open like a suitcase that is fairly bursting at the seams with treasures gathered on a summer's day at the beach.

These treasures will be the souvenirs I will share throughout the year on this site…but today as I dust the sand off my flip-flops and shake the bits of sage and sandstone from the hem of my jeans I can't help but tenderly caress the memories that will still be singing the songs of camp – when pressed to my heart like a seashell  --  in the deep of midwinter.

I walk mental fingers along a length of climbing rope - rope that held me aloft as Sami belayed me high above her on the high ropes course. With tears streaming down my cheeks, my heart burned to know the kind of spiritual trust required to surrender my life to God--to step out onto an ungraspable rope-swing swaying wildly in the wind as a storm brewed while I wept at 50 feet above the ground.  I will forever hear Jeff (counselor...not my husband) - his voice, soft, yet joyous - his remarkable sense of humor intact, gently encouraging me forward on a life-transforming adventure…more to come on this…soon.

I close my eyes and remember the way it feels to rest my cheek against a horse's face and feel her eyelashes brush my temple as we pray together.  Her moist breath warming my shoulder and her absolute trust in God's care bringing me to my knees.

I will taste the subtle flavors of China that were shared during an "Arthur Free Choice" activity where Lindsay, Peter and MacKenzie graced us with their love for a country, its people, its traditions, and its gift of tea.

I am buoyed by the sounds of laughter still echoing and ricocheting through the trees long after a game of Gaga has ended and campers have found their way to their bunks under a canopy of stars more brilliant than diamonds on a jeweler's cloth of midnight velvet.

I smile when I think of a stream of campers walking up the road from "outcamp" following their four-day trip.  Tired, dirty, lugging gear and encouraging one another with promises of "first showers" and the reminder that much anticipated care packages from home would be waiting – they look like refugees on the dusty road to freedom.  I watch them from where I stand on the porch of Crowsnest and I am so proud of all that they have overcome…self-interest, fear, doubt…and I can't wait to see them at dinner that night…taller, more confident, at peace with themselves and the journey towards spiritual freedom they didn't back away from.

I will never forget the sight (and sound) of my daughters perched on their saddles as they rode down to the rodeo arena singing rounds of - not "Row, row, row your boat" but "Seek ye first the kingdom of God..." in perfect harmony with their fellow campers and to the horses that they would gently, but confidently coax (with God's guidance), like elegant dancers, through poles and around barrels later that morning.

Everytime I take a bite of veggie sausage - drowning in maple syrup and sprinkled with salt - I will miss my place at the "Program Head" table - the whir of planning another day's activities for 100+ campers and the easy banter of comrades who are devoted to one another, the mission of this camp, the the children it serves.

I will miss the joy of finding 15 minutes for girl talk with Maree, or a hug from Alison on the lawn.  I will miss seeing 20 or 30 counselors in their pajamas at 6:25AM standing in a circle sharing the fruits of their spiritual inspiration and holding hands in prayer before greeting the day, and the campers, fully prepared and ready for all that God has in store.

There are, as the old 50s television programs said, "hundreds of stories" that will be packed snugly into our hearts on Saturday and will wend their way back home with each of us to Portland, Grass Valley, Boston and Peoria. 

These are just a few of my favorite things from this summer.  And on a cold night in November (or January…or, if I can't wait that long, September) I will sit quietly, I will remember a fire leaping in the Valerie Lodge fireplace where, during "Alone with Your Thoughts", God answered my prayer of "Where?" with "where Thine own children are I love to be" and I will unpack my treasures.   I will turn them over and over again in the palm of my heart and I will recall, once more, how it felt to have a counselor braid my hair on the lawn while we talked of God's love, or how it sounded to hear a group of camper's serenade another cabin as a "love prank" after lights out…and I will write about some of the lessons I learned this year…this summer…in the palm of five fingers.

"When the dog bites,
When the bee stings,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don't feel…so bad."

Stay tuned….
Kate