"a hundred hands...."

"who would have thought
that a Lamb could,
rescue the souls of men..."

After last night, there was no other song than Selah's "Wonderful, Merciful Savior," that could have possibly keynoted this post.

In front of their camp brothers, I saw one hundred hands raised in answer to this question:

"How many of you experienced a healing this summer?"

It took my breath away. I was not at all surprised that they had experienced the healing power of divine Love. But that - after a reflective pause - each hand was raised. They did not look around to see how their friends or mentors had answered the question. They were not hesitant - only thoughtful.

I will never forget watching this beautiful moment. Think of it. One hundred boys and men who had competed, slept, served, played and prayed with one another - quietly answering this question together. With raised hands and gentle faces -- "yes, I have known the healing power of God this summer."

I will leave this here. No commentary. I just wanted each of you to have a window on this moment of grace. And perhaps, in the privacy of your own home, on a walk in the woods, or in a moment of courage at work -- raise your hand, and shout, or sing, or whisper, "yes, I have known the healing power of God's love."

Have a beautiful Friday.



offered with Love,

Cate

"grateful for it all…"

"All that I am,
all that I see,
all that I've been,
and all that I'll ever be..."

The other day someone asked me why I would encourage our daughters to work as camp counselors this summer -- long days, modest wages. I was stunned. I can't imagine encouraging them to do anything else. The above chorus from "Grateful: A Love Song…"  by Empty Hands Music, sprang into my heart. I hope you will take a moment -- or two -- and give it a listen.

Almost everything I am, and all that my children have become, I directly attribute to our years as campers, counselors, volunteers, and staff members at the Adventure Unlimited Ranches -- the opportunities for spiritual growth, wonderful mentors, and programs it offers. I do not say this lightly. I mean it with every ounce of my being.

Do I hope that my daughters will devote the rest of their lives to supporting and contributing to this organization and the programs that it provides for children, adults and families? Actually, yes. But, as much as I would hope that their hearts remain aligned with this extraordinary place -- one that lives in each of us -- my encouragement that they return to camp as counselors this summer embodies a larger dream for them.

It is gratitude. I dream that our children grow into global citizens that understand the gift of gratitude. Gratitude is much more than an "after the fact" feeling of thanks. It is a way of life. It is an empowering and sustaining way of being in the world.

No one -- and nothing -- can deprive us of our right to be grateful. And it is a right. A divine right. In the midst of the most trying times -- while facing poverty, homelessness, pain, disappointment -- we can become still enough to recognize that there is always something to be grateful for.

This gratitude is a upwelling power within us. When we realize that we are aware of some small measure of good in our lives -- good that we can be grateful for -- we bring that good into conscious being. And when we appreciate [are grateful for] this good, it begins to appreciate [grow in value] in our lives.

To live with this attitude of gratitude is to live in a state of conscious good -- of grace.

So back to camp. Yes, our family could find "jobs" that might let us sleep in later each morning, or that might recompense us in larger measure, but we will never -- and I mean never -- find a greater opportunity to nurture and develop the best in ourselves. To discover the full depth of our identities as grateful children of a generous Father-Mother God.

To give a summer -- or a lifetime -- to this "place" that has shown us our best - our most unselfed, and spiritually trusting - selves is the greatest gift we can give to ourselves. To wake each morning knowing that we will have countless opportunities to say, "thank you," through providing the same encouragement and support to a new generation of campers and camp colleagues, that we have experienced, is to live a life of beauty and joy.

Each morning that we rise in the semi-dark of dawn for staff inspirational, and every time I hear a knock on the door of my cabin after midnight, or see a camper and counselor praying together on their porch -- long after lights out -- I am grateful. And each time I catch a glimpse of a counselor alone in the corral caring for horses when the rest of camp is at dinner -- I am immeasurably grateful.  Not only am I grateful for what they are doing to support our horse program, but for what they are learning about their own ability to put self aside, in caring for the needs of another creature first.

Our daughters may have opportunities to pursue internships that could forward their professional careers.  They may be offered jobs that would contribute more significantly to our very modest college savings account.  But nothing will contribute more to them becoming their best selves, than a summer steeped in gratitude for what camp has done in their lives. A summer filled with appreciation for the spiritual values that have nurtured their "clear sense and calm trust," in God's love for them. A recognition that this same Love has afforded them priceless opportunities to attend camp every summer since they were big enough to sit on a horse.  And that Love is giving them another summer in which to say "thank you," to an organization that has so deeply blessed their lives.

So, why would I encourage our daughters to work at camp this summer? Because I can't imagine a job that will lead to a greater -- more fulfilling and satisfying -- life of gratitude, service, and joy. 

The friendships they will make, and foster, are friendships steeped in selflessness and spiritual strength. What more could I want for my children, my husband, myself -- the world?

Thank you Adventure Unlimited*. We are grateful. We are grateful for it all.


offered with love,



Kate

*for some families "camp" is represented by the Peace Corp, other summer camps, or the many non-profits that serve humanity in countless ways. This post celebrates the practice of selfless service to our common purpose -- the blessing of others, as we have been blessed.

"As the ruby, in the setting..."

"...As the ruby in the setting
As the fruit upon the tree, 
As the wind blows over the plains...
So are you to me..."
- EastMountainSouth

I love this song...love, love, love it.  "So Are You to Me" has been one of my favorite love songs, since the first time I heard it performed by Kat Bode and Peter Adams.   And although it was used to keynote an earlier poem (on this blog), it serves to underscore a different message in this piece, for reasons that I hope will be obvious.

Today, as I was thinking about about Mary Baker Eddy's statement:

"Jesus beheld in Science the perfect man..."

it was this song that I came to mind.  

Over the years, I've have loved hearing it performed during marriage ceremonies. But I could easily see that it is not just a lovely romantic wedding song. It is a song about the kind of love that Jesus shared, so generously...impartially and universally...with everyone he came in contact with.  He loved them enough to behold their perfection (their wholeness) right where they were, right in front of their own eyes. And in doing so, it was possible for them, and others, to see the beauty, power, and grace within themselves. Innate spiritual resources that had the power, and potential to heal, and to bless . 

Not long ago  I wrote about an etymological discovery I had made.  I'd found a definition of the word, "behold," that read:

"to see, and call attention to"

And tonight, as I write this, I am realizing that this is a perfect, and accurate, description of what we do for those we love.  We are "the setting" in which their beauty and brilliance...their color and depth...is revealed, exposed to the light of love's illuminating grace, held high for all to see...each facet full of reflected, dancing light.

I see this in the lives of spiritual thinkers -- mothers, nurses, partners, husbands, healers, parents, teachers, healers, coaches - who see the good, the presence of God, in the lives of others...calling attention to it, for that very individual, and others, to see, experience, and appreciate.

I have experienced this kind of love.  I think that the first time I knew how it felt to "be the ruby in the setting" of someone's love, was with my younger sister.  She was so talented and confident.  She was willing to audition for roles, try-out for dance teams, put herself forward in ways that I was not able to do.  But what she would do...once she "made the team" or "got the part"...was to bring my talents to the attention of coaches and teachers so that I too would have opportunities...opportunities that I would never have had the courage to explore on my own.

So, why has this song become the pure and perfect, quintessential love song for me?  Because, I think, this is what real love is all about.   Holding our loved ones aloft, up to the light, high above even their own view of themselves, so that all of their unique spiritual gifts can be recognized, valued, and used for a holy purpose.

My daughters had a camp counselor last year who did this for them.   She saw that each of the girls had a very different, but equally remarkable, way of working with horses.   She identified one child's deep-settled calm, and placed her on a horse that, in partnership, would reveal how that same peacefulness...coupled with a growing inner confidence...brought out the best in their horse/rider partnership.   She recognized the spirited fearlessness in our other daughter, and put her on a horse that would enjoy her exuberance, while demanding that she develop a sense of quiet strength in her movements.


Each of our daughters' camp counselors have showed a deep, and abiding, love for them that I will never forget.  I think about what I have learned from them...often...in my own relationships with others -- my husband, my daughters, those who call me for help,  friends, colleagues, and those I meet in the course of my day.

When we really love another, we are willing to "be the setting," and not the gemstone.  My sister was never afraid to hold my gifts up to others, and point out how I could be a blessing, a contribution, a jewel of great value to their experience. To truly love another is to not only see, but to "see and call attention to" what they may not...at that moment...be able to see in themselves.

This is love...real love,
Kate

I miss camp

I miss camp...I've been home for a month now and I have been asking myself the question "what is it about camp that I miss?" The answer is so palpable and present:

I miss you....yes, you!  Everyone of you.  14 year old skateboarder...i miss our conversations on the porch of the Crowsnest Reading Room about your hero... a Christian skateboard champion who uses boarding as his way of proving his trust in God and his adherence to Jesus' admonition to "go and do likewise".  Sitting with you and flipping through your issue of magazines like Thrasher, Switch and Juice was enlightening, inspiring and humbling.   I had long relegated skateboarding to a sub-culture that I had no interest in or connection with.  Your introduction to Christian heroes like Jud Heald and Stephen Baldwin made me want to be more inclusive in how I interact with the boarders I step aside for during our walks through "the Loop" every evening.

I miss you "miss young, tan, blonde and beautiful"....one conversation on the bench by the bell tower and I was forever changed in the way I thought about 16 year old girls who drive new SUVs and never wear the same outfit twice. Your heart was so full of tenderness for your family.   Your deep desire to be good  shatters any lingering societal  illusion that would say that teenage girls want something different at 17 than they wanted at 4.   You still want to be loved by your mommy and daddy.  You still want to know that you have friends who like you for who you are....not what you can buy or what you wear.  You still want to love generously and live with a feeling of true security, security that is based in the certainty that there is a power larger than the world you have been taught by society to believe consists of financial portfolios and a summer home in the Hamptons.  You taught me...again....that there is, within each of us,  a deep inherent innocence that breaks the dream of self-indulgence we are constantly being sold on by the media through daily doses of reality tv and gossip magazines.   When I reminded you that you ARE (and always have been) good...the tears that poured down your cheeks washed us both clean of those false images.

I miss you "quiet boy who sat to the side and read Harry Potter during the dance". ...I miss discovering that you wanted to dance but didn't know how and were afraid of being thought foolish by the cute girl in your program who always seemed so confident.  I miss the ache in your voice when you told me that you thought she was "perfect" but that you also thought she would never even think of noticing you.   And oh, how I miss watching how, after we talked about the difference between what you thought she would think of you and her right to know how "perfect" you though she was, you got up and marched right over and asked her to dance.  I have rarely been more proud of a young man whose fear of rejection was trumped by his realization that she deserved to know that someone saw her as kind, good and beautiful because of her character and her joy.

I miss you, Cassidy....I miss your example of individuality, honestly and conviction.  I miss that smile that never failed to light up the darkness of self-doubt and uncertainty in those around you.  I miss your courage in taking "the road less traveled" and "the path most unlikely".  I miss your way of looking at the world around you and your willingness to recast it for us all through the lens of your camera, your heart, and your drawings.  I miss walking into a room and knowing that because you are there my experience will be full of beauty, humor, and kindness.  I miss watching the world through your eyes and seeing something new that is worth noticing in the what might seem small and insignificant to others.  I miss wondering everytime I see you "what is it like to look at the world through Cassidy's eyes?" and trying my best to bring your special brand of seeing to everything I do.

I miss you, "counselors for the summer who are headed into the Peace Corps in the Fall".  I miss each of you...I love the hope for the world that this commitment represents.  I miss feeling like I loved your destinations in South America, Asia, Africa, and eastern Europe vicariously through your heart's devotion to their children, their families, and their villages and cities.   I miss watching the way you would come to staff inspirational at the break of dawn each morning with a renewed joy (or a willingness for one) so inspiring that my own body leapt to service by your example and that of your fellow counselors.  I loved watching you craft saris and turbans (out of bed sheets and towels) on Ballywood night to dance in celebration of God's universal and impartial goodness.  I love and miss each of you more than you can know.

I miss...every camper, counselor, camp director, bunkhouse mom/dad, cook, bus driver, office manager, enrollment coordinator, wrangler, ranchhand....I miss what you taught me about humanity's goodness and the universality of it's desire to love and be loved.  I look for the heart of who you are in every face I meet on the street, every voice on the phone. 

Yesterday I walked into the coffeehouse at the end of my block here in the city.  It is my Valerie Lodge in the middle of  "camp St. Louis"   I was looking for you...each of you.  Imagine my delight when there you were....not just in the face of Justin behind the counter, or Oliver the professor from Wash U. who loves Russian poetry....it really was YOU....two of the counselors I spent an amazing five weeks with at camp in Colorado were in my neighborhood....

And people question whether prayers are answered....


K

I love camp....

Dear Mom (Okay...this letter isn't really to my mom, but it just seems like the right "person" to address a letter from camp to):

I love camp....just like I do every year.  I love everything about it.  I love the sounds of camp. The trickle of the little "brook" that runs past my cabin from up the mountain on its way to the lake just below the lodge.  The wind through the pines and aspens that sighs and murmurs in a language that is spoken only here. The laughter of teens on the lawn as they discover how to be children again under the canopy of a cloudless Colorado sky.  The symphony of splashing and screeching that extends like ripples from the lake and reaches my cabin beckoning me to join by the water's edge and watch the dance of campers in a bizarre sort of water ballet.  Hymns wafting through the night air as cabin counselors sing their campers to sleep.   For me these sounds are the voice of God's song in my heart.  I long for them throughout the year the way a lost wanderer keens towards the music of his homeland drifting from the golden light of the doorway in a wayside inn.

I love camp....I love the feast of Soul that feeds my eyes throughout the days and nights.  A counselor with her arm around a homesick camper.  A tired and disoriented hummingbird sitting in the hand of a gangly teen who has helped her find her way out of the lodge where she lost her bearings.  A group of campers sitting on the lawn reading and discussing Bible stories within the context of their own relevant adventures in spiritual discovery.  A young man with tempera facepaint laughing as he is captured in a game of Eco-stragego when only an hour earlier he had seemed sullen and "too cool" for child's play.  A girl with her horse discovering a form of communication only a girl with a horse can understand. The afternoon light reflecting off the wet shoulders of teens bobbing in a clear mountain lake.  These visuals are the mental photographs I cherish throughout the year.  To see them come to life and move before my eyes for yet another summer is a gift from a very generous and kind God.

I love camp....I love the smell of marshmallows toasting in the fireplace in Valerie Lodge on a rainy night with a group of girls singing Disney songs while dancing like sprites on a midsummer's eve.  The scent of crushed pine needles beneath my feet as I walk through the cool midnight air to respond to the needs of a homesick camper.  The aroma of the barbecue on Sunday afternoon while campers sit on the lawn and on porches marking their Bibles and copies of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures for the next week's spiritual study they will engage in every morning.  The sweet perfume of shampoo and baby powder that floats in the air after everyone has returned from the river and the trails for showers before flag lowering by the lake.   These scents remind me that God's tender beauty is redolent in this world and that I can never be outside of its reach if I will only slow down, close my eyes, and breathe deeply.

I love camp....I love the taste of tears that fall down my cheeks each time I drive through the gate and realize that God has blessed me with one more year of heaven on earth.  I love the taste of charred marshmallows mixed with the bark from the long stick they were roasted on.  I love the taste of triumph I see a camper savoring when she conquers fear or surmounts self-doubt.  I love the taste of freedom I detect in a young man who has discovered that being a man of integrity is sweeter than finding his way around the rules.  Each savored moment of grace is a delicacy that doesn't just tempt, but satisfies and fills the heart with God's bounty.

I love camp....I love the feel of a camper's arm linked in mine as we walk into the woods for a moment of privacy to talk about God's love for him.  The feel of the soft evening wind in my hair as I watch almost one hundred young men and women sit silently for an hour listening for inspiration during "Alone with Your Thoughts" on a cool summer's evening.  The touch of a counselor's hand on my shoulder at dinner alerting me to the spiritual needs of a camper who longs for comfort or a reminder that God's love is even closer than my hand in hers.  The weight of my spiritual sidekicks, the Bible and Science and Health, in my arms as I gather these vital tools and head off to the corral to pray with a camper and her horse.  I love feeling my heart leap when a camper shares with me his inspiration from that morning's prayer and it meets my exact need for spiritual nourishment in that very moment.  I love feeling the damp warmth of a rafter's hug after a day on the river where she has overcome fear and found freedom in the midst of what could have been a whitewater crisis...something we had prayed about together that morning before she left.  I love each touch, each firm yet gentle reminder that God's care reaches through the abstract and obtuse, the distant and aloof to place a tender and divine hand on our lives.

I just love camp....

Love,


K