The river is high at camp this week. If the leaves weren't falling, you might think it was early summer. There is water over part of the waterfront fire ring. The trunk of the willow tree that has begun to grow near the fire ring is under water as well. Today, though, the water is like glass. An occasional ripple drifts toward the shore from somewhere far off. The guys installed new lights on the basketball court at the Alford Recreation Center, which should encourage more night games there. We've had light there before this time, but it was patchy, and it led to many excuses during those summer camp Sunday night staff basketball games. You would see the ball coming out of the dark, and, if it was crisp, you had very little time to adjust, catch the pass, or even avoid it hitting you in the face. These arguments about where we play happen periodically. Many people figure their game would be better if we played at the Conference Center parking lot where the light is brighter and more spread out, so it easily becomes a way to comfort one's ego for poor shooting or passing. If there were more light, I would have been better. I've never played on this goal before, and I'm not used to shooting here, or I would have been better. If we'd have played with a better ball, I would have been better. It's comfort, but there isn't sure truth which had more to do with the poor performance: the bad conditions or the player's reluctance to practice more than once a month. Regardless, there are more lights on the court and more water in the river these days.
We hosted a mid-week group of about 20 called Heartland Cares. They spent time each day doing some things I would have liked to leave the office to do. They had photography time, hiking, crafts, and fishing. One man here hadn't fished since he was five years old. He caught 3, his first a decent sized bass. One morning, I checked in with the group, and found that one of our guests had tried tossing a set of keys up to someone on the balcony of Calhoun, only to toss it onto the roof. Corky was not a good choice to retrieve them, because he gets vertigo, and Travis is not very comfortable with heights. I offered to climb up (half selfishly, because it sounded cool to get on the roof), but Travis very generously told me not to worry about it, that he would get it.
Miles took a trip to the vet this week. He's had a bump on his shoulder a little smaller than my fist for a while. It's shrunk a little, but then grew back again. It ended up just being some fatty tissue, but the vet thought it'd be good to remove it anyway. So, Miles has a section of back shaved with a sewn up cut across his shoulder blade. He looks thinner. The bump had made it look like he had shoulder pads. So, he's on a regiment of antibiotics, pain killers, and ear drops for the next little bit. He makes groany/whiny noises still fairly regularly, which he has done for years. He is a dog of routine, and his most favorite of these is the afternoon walk Gary and Vickie take around 4:00pm. He is well aware of the time somehow, and begins pacing between their offices, getting louder and louder, whining and groaning, even yelping when he gets really worked up. It is sight to see if you are ever around on a weekday around 4:00. And, over the years, he has become more and more vocal. He will get worked up, walk to home in the woods with Gary and Vickie, then return to camp to lay flat on his back in a part of the office floor that will almost certainly block someone's path.
We are in a time rises and falls. The temperature starts out cool in the morning, so you bundle up. Then, by afternoon, you have shed your long sleeves or you've started sweating. As much as many of us would like to believe that we are wild and crazy, always hoping for something exciting and unexpected, we tend to complain about the things that cause us to change something. Those things that pull us out of the routine or the plan. I walked back to the Tent and Trailer camp area (where we have our backpacking equipment currently) to check our supplies for the upcoming backpack retreat. I carried a walkie talkie with me, because phone service doesn't really exist is that bottom between two ridges. I proceeded with caution into this storage area. The last time I opened this closet door, I watched a skunk waddle from it's place in the front to a place farther back in the closet (I did not go back looking for it). There was no sign of a skunk, so I was able to check the equipment without fear of compromising my appealing, natural odor. Then I headed back to camp. About the time I hit the highway, I realized that I didn't have anything in my hands, and that there should be something there. I finally realized it was the walkie, and I knew exactly where I had left it. I got two walks in this beautiful area as a result, but it took me a little while to come around to such a positive view of the situation.
Gary has been planting crocus bulbs around the prayer labyrinth this week with an interesting little tool that hooks up to a drill. This is the time of the year to be planting, and I can't think of more pleasant weather to be doing it in (that is, so long as you have something to plant). Gary stepped away from the labyrinth for a moment, and, when he returned, found that his bag of nearly 100 bulbs was missing. He assumes that the dogs have relocated the bag, but, as of right now, the bulbs are still missing. Maybe the dogs had a better place in mind. It is these times, that I'm sure God is happy with his creations. We are, after all, very amusing.
This weekend we have a group staying in the Oxley cabin, an adult backpacking retreat, United Methodist Women Fall Fling, and a group from Jackson First UMC. I hope you will keep them in your prayers. I'm going to go outside now.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
This week at Lakeshore 10/25-31
It is a great time of year to be at Lakeshore. There are some oaks, elms, and beeches that are still resisting losing their green, but most trees have submitted and turned to their reds, browns, oranges, and yellows. We have rain, we have sun, we have wind, we have cool and warm air. It is a time when we have a little bit of every season. Today is a windy day. The large trees are dancing, swaying side to side. I hope to go down to the river to see the waves kicking up, pounding the sides of shoreline, tossing our docks all around. I've got the window of my office cracked right now, and the wind feels better than the air conditioner ever does. Everything's moving and dancing.
This week, we hosted West Tennessee Camp Bluebird, a camp for Cancer Survivors. They have been doing these camps here for a very long time. They are very good at what they do. The decorations they come up with are always so impressive. I'd like to get the leaders for these camps to do a junior high camp sometime. This year their theme was a New Orleans Mardi Gras, so we had bayous set up, lots of plastic alligators, and Spanish moss in the Bradford Pears at the front of the parking lot. The highlight of the week for me(and a highlight of my whole time here at camp) was on Wednesday when the Bluebirds had a parade. Just picture standing at the flowerbed and watching a train of Cancer survivors walking up, dressed in bright costumes with masquerade masks, others standing on the hay wagon (also decorated in bright colors) throwing beads. Dixieland music is playing in the background while the King and Queen of Mardi Gras lead Corky's truck pulling the Mardi Gras float. Corky is wearing a top hat and masquerade mask as well. People are dancing in the parking lot to "When the Saints go Marching in." I stood there, watching, so happy just to be witnessing so much fun and happiness, so much life.
I also had a chance to do teambuilding for a group of adults from the Benton County Chamber of Commerce who are part of an annual leadership program. We spent a good bit of time doing trust walks, where one partner would lead the other blindfolded partner through the woods. They did the "human camera" exercise, where a partner would pose the blindfolded partner at something they wanted them to "photograph," and then have them open their eyes for a split second to take a mental picture. While they were off on these exercises, I practiced taking mental pictures on my own. I closed my eyes and walked around, randomly positioning my face in some direction, and opened my eyes for a split second. It is very interesting how particular images stay in your mind and you can vividly bring them back. I still have in my mind the view looking up through yellow sweet gum leaves, fingers spread open like star fish.
And we do this, sometimes without knowing why. Holding onto images, both good and bad, some stick, some don't. We forget some things that we think we should consider memorable. Then we hold onto things and don't really understand why. I hope that I can hold onto these images of all the dancing, all the life moving in front of my eyes. One that stays with me at the moment comes from that Mardi Gras parade. A helium balloon managed to escape from someone and left the ground. In the midst of all the laughter and joy there on the ground, I watched the balloon fly higher and higher--so high it became a little dot in the sky. Up towards the stratosphere, flying to some new fantastic place I will likely only see from the window of a plane. A piece of our celebration lifted up so high that we eventually couldn't see it. But the image, for now, is still there in my memory. And, it is a good memory.
This week, Lakeshore has the weekend off. Many of the staff are traveling, so keep in your prayers that we will return safely. Hope your weekend is a great one.
This week, we hosted West Tennessee Camp Bluebird, a camp for Cancer Survivors. They have been doing these camps here for a very long time. They are very good at what they do. The decorations they come up with are always so impressive. I'd like to get the leaders for these camps to do a junior high camp sometime. This year their theme was a New Orleans Mardi Gras, so we had bayous set up, lots of plastic alligators, and Spanish moss in the Bradford Pears at the front of the parking lot. The highlight of the week for me(and a highlight of my whole time here at camp) was on Wednesday when the Bluebirds had a parade. Just picture standing at the flowerbed and watching a train of Cancer survivors walking up, dressed in bright costumes with masquerade masks, others standing on the hay wagon (also decorated in bright colors) throwing beads. Dixieland music is playing in the background while the King and Queen of Mardi Gras lead Corky's truck pulling the Mardi Gras float. Corky is wearing a top hat and masquerade mask as well. People are dancing in the parking lot to "When the Saints go Marching in." I stood there, watching, so happy just to be witnessing so much fun and happiness, so much life.
I also had a chance to do teambuilding for a group of adults from the Benton County Chamber of Commerce who are part of an annual leadership program. We spent a good bit of time doing trust walks, where one partner would lead the other blindfolded partner through the woods. They did the "human camera" exercise, where a partner would pose the blindfolded partner at something they wanted them to "photograph," and then have them open their eyes for a split second to take a mental picture. While they were off on these exercises, I practiced taking mental pictures on my own. I closed my eyes and walked around, randomly positioning my face in some direction, and opened my eyes for a split second. It is very interesting how particular images stay in your mind and you can vividly bring them back. I still have in my mind the view looking up through yellow sweet gum leaves, fingers spread open like star fish.
And we do this, sometimes without knowing why. Holding onto images, both good and bad, some stick, some don't. We forget some things that we think we should consider memorable. Then we hold onto things and don't really understand why. I hope that I can hold onto these images of all the dancing, all the life moving in front of my eyes. One that stays with me at the moment comes from that Mardi Gras parade. A helium balloon managed to escape from someone and left the ground. In the midst of all the laughter and joy there on the ground, I watched the balloon fly higher and higher--so high it became a little dot in the sky. Up towards the stratosphere, flying to some new fantastic place I will likely only see from the window of a plane. A piece of our celebration lifted up so high that we eventually couldn't see it. But the image, for now, is still there in my memory. And, it is a good memory.
This week, Lakeshore has the weekend off. Many of the staff are traveling, so keep in your prayers that we will return safely. Hope your weekend is a great one.
Friday, October 23, 2009
This week at Lakeshore 10/18-24
We are in a time of change, now. I guess we are constantly in a time of change, but there are those times when you are prone to notice more often the changes around you. This could turn out to be the last week Josh has to mow the lawn if the temperature drops for good. It's likely he'll have to run the mower a little more, but it will become less and less of a full time responsibility for him until spring. A new duty arises quickly for the maintenance guys this time of year--leaf blowing. Every walkway, every parking area, the gazebo--it all has to be cleared. Wet leaves are a slip and fall waiting to happen. You don't spend much time thinking about the things under your feet.
Then again, with all the acorns on the ground, you are encouraged to think about what you're stepping on. Lots of things falling on the ground, and sometimes it's tough to know if you're stepping on something that it's normal to step on or something you'd prefer not to be putting your weight on. Allyson, my wife, adores this time of year. She goes out walking on the black top to step on the acorns and hear the cracking noise it produces. I'm sure the squirrels don't appreciate it too much, but I must admit the sound is almost hypnotizing.
It has been a week of odd jobs at Lakeshore. I've spent most of the week answering messages, producing information sheets, and answering phone calls. The phone has been ringing in such a way that you begin to wonder if you've gone into the future a few months, and we are closer to summer time than we think. I had the opportunity today to host the "Prime Timers," from Murray First UMC. It's a group of seniors that take fun and exciting trips together, and we had the pleasure of being their destination this time. I got to show them around the camp and even Pilot's Knob. There were several couples in the group who had worked at Lakeshore in the 50s. I was fascinated to hear how the camp has changed. There was a couple who got together during a summer when they worked as waterfront directors. They met at Murray State beforehand. She had been trying to set her future husband up with her best friend. I guess they didn't notice what was already happening at the time. They showed me a picture of them both on the waterfront, the summer they were just beginning on this this journey they've been on together now for over 50 years. That same ground under their feet that many of us have spent such sacred time on.
After they left, I was headed back to the Administration Building, walking a road that I can even remember being covered in trees and ground cover. I walked past the cabins that I can recall pre-air conditioning. The screen doors on a spring that would slam shut every time a camper ran out. I was not thinking about these things as I passed, though. There was a nice sized rock in the middle of the road, so I began the game that so many of us have played at camp and plenty of other places. I kicked the rock as far and as straight as I could. When I caught up to it, I kicked it again, trying for distance, but not so much distance that it left the road. I made it through about 3 kicks, then, for a moment I looked up at the sky, through the smattering of grey clouds, at the turkey buzzard hundreds of feet in the air and the quilt of browns, yellows, and reds starting to show up on the trees. When I looked back down around my feet, I couldn't find the rock I had been kicking. So, I kicked a new rock.
These things right under our feet can keep us pretty busy. Sometimes, it's all we can handle. There's what is, what was, what is still in front of us. I think I like it, though--there is always enough for there to be more to see, more to look for, more to find. And, isn't that exciting?
This weekend we have a conference-wide youth retreat. Lots of teenagers coming up looking for something(Who knows what?). Let's hope they find something good. Be in prayer that they and their leaders find what God is putting out in front of them. And please, please, find some time to enjoy this fantastic weather we've got going on outside. You won't be sorry (unless you slip and fall on an acorn).
Then again, with all the acorns on the ground, you are encouraged to think about what you're stepping on. Lots of things falling on the ground, and sometimes it's tough to know if you're stepping on something that it's normal to step on or something you'd prefer not to be putting your weight on. Allyson, my wife, adores this time of year. She goes out walking on the black top to step on the acorns and hear the cracking noise it produces. I'm sure the squirrels don't appreciate it too much, but I must admit the sound is almost hypnotizing.
It has been a week of odd jobs at Lakeshore. I've spent most of the week answering messages, producing information sheets, and answering phone calls. The phone has been ringing in such a way that you begin to wonder if you've gone into the future a few months, and we are closer to summer time than we think. I had the opportunity today to host the "Prime Timers," from Murray First UMC. It's a group of seniors that take fun and exciting trips together, and we had the pleasure of being their destination this time. I got to show them around the camp and even Pilot's Knob. There were several couples in the group who had worked at Lakeshore in the 50s. I was fascinated to hear how the camp has changed. There was a couple who got together during a summer when they worked as waterfront directors. They met at Murray State beforehand. She had been trying to set her future husband up with her best friend. I guess they didn't notice what was already happening at the time. They showed me a picture of them both on the waterfront, the summer they were just beginning on this this journey they've been on together now for over 50 years. That same ground under their feet that many of us have spent such sacred time on.
After they left, I was headed back to the Administration Building, walking a road that I can even remember being covered in trees and ground cover. I walked past the cabins that I can recall pre-air conditioning. The screen doors on a spring that would slam shut every time a camper ran out. I was not thinking about these things as I passed, though. There was a nice sized rock in the middle of the road, so I began the game that so many of us have played at camp and plenty of other places. I kicked the rock as far and as straight as I could. When I caught up to it, I kicked it again, trying for distance, but not so much distance that it left the road. I made it through about 3 kicks, then, for a moment I looked up at the sky, through the smattering of grey clouds, at the turkey buzzard hundreds of feet in the air and the quilt of browns, yellows, and reds starting to show up on the trees. When I looked back down around my feet, I couldn't find the rock I had been kicking. So, I kicked a new rock.
These things right under our feet can keep us pretty busy. Sometimes, it's all we can handle. There's what is, what was, what is still in front of us. I think I like it, though--there is always enough for there to be more to see, more to look for, more to find. And, isn't that exciting?
This weekend we have a conference-wide youth retreat. Lots of teenagers coming up looking for something(Who knows what?). Let's hope they find something good. Be in prayer that they and their leaders find what God is putting out in front of them. And please, please, find some time to enjoy this fantastic weather we've got going on outside. You won't be sorry (unless you slip and fall on an acorn).
Friday, October 16, 2009
Follow us on Twitter
We have set up an account on Twitter with the great intention to post the great things going on at Lakeshore regularly, as well as, make critical announcements. The account name is Lakeshore UMA and we hope all our faithful friends will set up an account and begin to follow us.
So, do it! Go to twitter.com and set yourself up for a few tweets. We will look for you there. Thanks.
So, do it! Go to twitter.com and set yourself up for a few tweets. We will look for you there. Thanks.
Friday, October 9, 2009
This week at Lakeshore 10/4-10
The bipolar month of October is upon us. I begin the morning in long sleeves and shed those by lunch time because I'm sweating like a Waterfront Director in July that just walked up the hill. One day we have our air conditioning on, the next day we have the heat on, still other days we just open the windows. The leaves on some trees are already changing, but others are defiantly green, as if they will hold on for months to come. I'm keeping my fingers crossed about this evening. A large storm is on the radar that will supposedly be with us until morning and drop the temperature about 15 degrees before all is said and done. It's not the ideal weather in which to welcome retreat groups (especially 50 Elementary retreaters), but I guess when things are bigger than you, the best advice is just to be in awe.
Earlier this week we had the pleasure of hosting a group of retired Methodist minsters from our conference and their spouses. I got to sit at a table and listen to stories during lunch one day, and it was a pleasure hearing how things have changed over the years. I heard of days when charges were measured by the buggy ride and parsonages without indoor plumbing. There were hilarious stories about how the parsonage was sometimes treated as a public place, because it, in some cases, was the nearest house with a phone. There are even stories that, for prudence's sake, I won't type on the blog.
As I'm typing I'm listening to a radio show talking about Redwoods. There was recently a National Geographic article focusing on an 1,800 mile hike a reporter took through a range that encompasses pretty well all the Redwoods in the world. There has been publicity lately about how Redwoods should be managed. I have a special connection to Redwoods--I was married in a beautiful grove a few years ago. Since first seeing them, I've become obsessed. 95% of the Redwoods that were around when settlers first made it to California are gone, so now there is just a fraction of the 1,000 year old giants that you hear about and see pictures of. Even then, when you are in the presence of a Redwood it affects you. You feel as if something isn't right. You have gone back in time or been shrunk. It defies logic that there is something living on this scale. To know that this living thing has been around, not just hundreds of years, but potentially thousands of years is hard to get your head around. To think of all the things that have been witnessed by this great tree. All the changes, the different types of people and animals that have been under them. There is a wisdom to these trees--a wisdom I cannot comprehend.
There are things all around us that are bigger than we are. Steps from my office, the Tennessee River measures over a mile across from our Waterfront. At its deepest, it could come close to swallowing the Conference Center. It has been flowing longer than there have been people on this continent. When you think about these things, all the things that this body has seen, how can you help but be in awe? I can only hope that my life will be a long one and that I will get to see many wonderful, inspiring, entertaining things. But, even then, there will always been something larger, something that both predates and outlives me. Ah, but to get to witness all this, to be there for a time to see these things--isn't it fantastic?
This weekend, we have a conference-wide Elementary Retreat, a Sunday School class from Bell Meade UMC, and an Art Class joining us. Let's hope the storm doesn't make check-in too hectic and that these groups find a chance to grow this weekend.
Next week, This week at Lakeshore will be taking a break, because Troy is taking a class. Have no fear, though. We'll return the 23rd.
Earlier this week we had the pleasure of hosting a group of retired Methodist minsters from our conference and their spouses. I got to sit at a table and listen to stories during lunch one day, and it was a pleasure hearing how things have changed over the years. I heard of days when charges were measured by the buggy ride and parsonages without indoor plumbing. There were hilarious stories about how the parsonage was sometimes treated as a public place, because it, in some cases, was the nearest house with a phone. There are even stories that, for prudence's sake, I won't type on the blog.
As I'm typing I'm listening to a radio show talking about Redwoods. There was recently a National Geographic article focusing on an 1,800 mile hike a reporter took through a range that encompasses pretty well all the Redwoods in the world. There has been publicity lately about how Redwoods should be managed. I have a special connection to Redwoods--I was married in a beautiful grove a few years ago. Since first seeing them, I've become obsessed. 95% of the Redwoods that were around when settlers first made it to California are gone, so now there is just a fraction of the 1,000 year old giants that you hear about and see pictures of. Even then, when you are in the presence of a Redwood it affects you. You feel as if something isn't right. You have gone back in time or been shrunk. It defies logic that there is something living on this scale. To know that this living thing has been around, not just hundreds of years, but potentially thousands of years is hard to get your head around. To think of all the things that have been witnessed by this great tree. All the changes, the different types of people and animals that have been under them. There is a wisdom to these trees--a wisdom I cannot comprehend.
There are things all around us that are bigger than we are. Steps from my office, the Tennessee River measures over a mile across from our Waterfront. At its deepest, it could come close to swallowing the Conference Center. It has been flowing longer than there have been people on this continent. When you think about these things, all the things that this body has seen, how can you help but be in awe? I can only hope that my life will be a long one and that I will get to see many wonderful, inspiring, entertaining things. But, even then, there will always been something larger, something that both predates and outlives me. Ah, but to get to witness all this, to be there for a time to see these things--isn't it fantastic?
This weekend, we have a conference-wide Elementary Retreat, a Sunday School class from Bell Meade UMC, and an Art Class joining us. Let's hope the storm doesn't make check-in too hectic and that these groups find a chance to grow this weekend.
Next week, This week at Lakeshore will be taking a break, because Troy is taking a class. Have no fear, though. We'll return the 23rd.
Friday, October 2, 2009
This week at Lakeshore 9/27-10/3
The fall arrived this week, and, ah, it feels great. Go outside and just instantly feel a little bit better. Moving around is so pleasant--you are not likely to sweat just by walking. The humidity is gone, and so breathing is even an enjoyable experience. The trees have also become aware of the fall, and the oaks are beginning to drop their acorns. The acorns make loud noises when dropping from 30 or 40 feet, and you can become a little paranoid this time of year. You hear the acorns during a walk and think there is something following you. You hear them on your roof and think that something huge has dropped from the sky onto your house. All around you things are falling.
Early this week, we had a quilters retreat with a small group of women. Quilts remind me frequently of time and history. I used to wonder why you see homemade quilts priced so expensively--I mean, they don't cost that much to make, right? It's not the materials that you pay for, it's the time that is put in that makes the quilt such a commodity. To me, it can become a sign of heritage as well. My mother made me a quilt several years ago, and it is draped over the base of my bed, waiting for Allyson to inevitably get cold and pull it over herself in the middle of the night. It is beautiful too. Not only that, it will probably outlast me. It will likely be passed along down my family, however that goes and be a reminder of what has happened before when I'm not longer around to be a representative.
This week, I was out of the office from Monday to Thursday. I spent this time exploring Lakeshore's unknown property. Lakeshore has around 800 acres of property, most of which is not used. I wanted to go out and discover what we have out there. I called it my Lewis and Clark trip. So, I strapped on a backpack with tent, food, and clothes for the 4 days and went into the woods. I saw so many things, so many new places, and a thought that kept coming to me over and over was, "this is Lakeshore too." There are the buildings, the river, the pool, campsites, all of that--but there's also this wilderness: hills, valleys, new creeks, tall trees, barely visable roads, overlooks to see far, low spots to hide and be away from everything. On the third day of my trip, I spent a little while at a high point on the property that had recently been forested, and you could see the entire valley leading to our tent and trailer area and so on. This was the first time in 2 1/2 days that I had seen something I recognized, and a feeling came over me very akin to the last day of a summer camp. I don't get that feeling very frequently anymore, because, despite my emotional attachment to camp still, I know that I will be back and I know what is to follow. This was the first very new thing I had seen at camp in a very long time. I was a camper again, and I was already beginning to miss it. From then on, I got a strange feeling every time I came into contact with something familiar, getting closer and closer to main camp, closer to knowing the trip would soon end. Not a completely sad feeling, though. That feeling you have when you know you are a part of something special and you feel yourself getting older by the second. You know that things won't be the same--that they can't possibly be. You're life is not over, there are many great things still in the future, but this chapter is closing. So you get a little anxious and want to freeze time, because you think like life is moving on so fast, and it is. You don't know whether to mourn the passage of this wonderful time or celebrate it. One thing is sure, though: time keeps passing. There will be these moments of clarity where we look out over all of it, and for a short time, things seem to make some sort of sense all together. But then, we must walk back down into the forest where we don't see so far around us, where rock-sized seeds fall left and right from the sky.
As I walked to Wilderness Camp, then to Tent and Trailer, then down that gravel road back to camp, then turned down the highway and saw the pool (that was just drained this week), then approached the Administration Building--a walk I've made so many times--I felt like I was walking back into a different world. While sharing the story of my adventures with the staff, I began getting comfortable again with my routines. My body decided it was okay now to start getting sore, I began longing for a hot shower, and I looked forward to Allyson and I's trip to the Ohana Grill that evening. Time had, of course, kept moving on. Most things move with this pace. But there are still these feelings. These feelings that are scared of forgetting. That want to just slow it all down for a little while. But we are not slow movers, are we?
This week, we have the fall West Tennessee Men's Emmaus Walk, Jackson 1st UMC Confirmation, Reidland UMC Youth, and two people beginning a new journey together in a wedding at our Tabernacle. Pray that their time here gives them what they need.
Some time in the future I'll be posting video footage of my trip into Lakeshore's unexplored country.
Early this week, we had a quilters retreat with a small group of women. Quilts remind me frequently of time and history. I used to wonder why you see homemade quilts priced so expensively--I mean, they don't cost that much to make, right? It's not the materials that you pay for, it's the time that is put in that makes the quilt such a commodity. To me, it can become a sign of heritage as well. My mother made me a quilt several years ago, and it is draped over the base of my bed, waiting for Allyson to inevitably get cold and pull it over herself in the middle of the night. It is beautiful too. Not only that, it will probably outlast me. It will likely be passed along down my family, however that goes and be a reminder of what has happened before when I'm not longer around to be a representative.
This week, I was out of the office from Monday to Thursday. I spent this time exploring Lakeshore's unknown property. Lakeshore has around 800 acres of property, most of which is not used. I wanted to go out and discover what we have out there. I called it my Lewis and Clark trip. So, I strapped on a backpack with tent, food, and clothes for the 4 days and went into the woods. I saw so many things, so many new places, and a thought that kept coming to me over and over was, "this is Lakeshore too." There are the buildings, the river, the pool, campsites, all of that--but there's also this wilderness: hills, valleys, new creeks, tall trees, barely visable roads, overlooks to see far, low spots to hide and be away from everything. On the third day of my trip, I spent a little while at a high point on the property that had recently been forested, and you could see the entire valley leading to our tent and trailer area and so on. This was the first time in 2 1/2 days that I had seen something I recognized, and a feeling came over me very akin to the last day of a summer camp. I don't get that feeling very frequently anymore, because, despite my emotional attachment to camp still, I know that I will be back and I know what is to follow. This was the first very new thing I had seen at camp in a very long time. I was a camper again, and I was already beginning to miss it. From then on, I got a strange feeling every time I came into contact with something familiar, getting closer and closer to main camp, closer to knowing the trip would soon end. Not a completely sad feeling, though. That feeling you have when you know you are a part of something special and you feel yourself getting older by the second. You know that things won't be the same--that they can't possibly be. You're life is not over, there are many great things still in the future, but this chapter is closing. So you get a little anxious and want to freeze time, because you think like life is moving on so fast, and it is. You don't know whether to mourn the passage of this wonderful time or celebrate it. One thing is sure, though: time keeps passing. There will be these moments of clarity where we look out over all of it, and for a short time, things seem to make some sort of sense all together. But then, we must walk back down into the forest where we don't see so far around us, where rock-sized seeds fall left and right from the sky.
As I walked to Wilderness Camp, then to Tent and Trailer, then down that gravel road back to camp, then turned down the highway and saw the pool (that was just drained this week), then approached the Administration Building--a walk I've made so many times--I felt like I was walking back into a different world. While sharing the story of my adventures with the staff, I began getting comfortable again with my routines. My body decided it was okay now to start getting sore, I began longing for a hot shower, and I looked forward to Allyson and I's trip to the Ohana Grill that evening. Time had, of course, kept moving on. Most things move with this pace. But there are still these feelings. These feelings that are scared of forgetting. That want to just slow it all down for a little while. But we are not slow movers, are we?
This week, we have the fall West Tennessee Men's Emmaus Walk, Jackson 1st UMC Confirmation, Reidland UMC Youth, and two people beginning a new journey together in a wedding at our Tabernacle. Pray that their time here gives them what they need.
Some time in the future I'll be posting video footage of my trip into Lakeshore's unexplored country.
Friday, September 25, 2009
This week at camp 9/20-26
This week, we've done our work looking over our shoulders to see what the sky looked like. At any moment it could change from the light powder blue that meant sunshine and fresh air to a gray that means mugginess the threat of rain. Then, who knows if it will get to that navy blue color that means you better get under something soon or have a change of clothes on you. I realize that I generally first look at a week based on its weather, but this week's weather has been interesting. We've had the first real heavy rain in about a month, but you can't really predict when it's going to show up or how long it will stay. Even now, I don't know what's going to happen as I join a volunteer of ours who is coming to do some trail works. We get out there, swing the pick axe one good time, and then get hit with a torrential downpour.
I moved a cedar tree from up on the hill near my house to our prayer labyrinth upon Gary's request for some low cost decorative trees. I dug it up with a shovel, and moved it down to a spot Corky pointed out as a relatively unrocky spot (which is a bit of a novelty in Benton County). It's a pretty simple process, and cedar trees are very good at taking to the new surroundings as long as they get some light. When you plant a tree, the experts tell you that the first thing you need to do after sinking the tree in the ground is to give it a heavy watering. I guess this helps the soil pack itself around the roots, giving it a firmer foundation. It helps it wrap around the roots better than your packing could possibly do on its own. Then, the water also nourishes this tree that is probably in a bit of shock from being yanked up out of the place it thought it would spend its whole life. I did not bother to water the tree, since we had had so much rain before. But, I realized it didn't really matter anyway. I had just gotten back into my office, when the sky opened up and let a heavy dose of rain fall on Lakeshore. It's nice to have these little blessings.
This week, we have Middle Tennessee Camp Bluebird visiting us. It is a camp for Cancer Survivors that operates all over. West Tennessee Camp Bluebird has been having their camp here far longer than I have been going to camp here, but this is Middle Tennessee's first year with us. These retreats are a lot of fun to witness. They chose a theme and decorate the Conference Center, and they go all out. This group's theme is Rock & Roll, so all over the main building you'll see records hanging from the ceiling and pictures of Elvis and so on. There are so many things they do at this retreat. They have a lot of times designed to help the campers in dealing with cancer, but they also have a lot of fun. There are funny skits, games, and dress up days. It's really tough to tell who is getting the most out of the experience, but it's pretty clear that everyone is getting something.
I was biking with my friend, Steven at the begining of the week, and I was a little worried about my back tire. The tube had gone flat a few weeks ago, and when I changed it, the new tube went flat that day. I changed my tire again, still concerned that this really had less to do with poorly manufactured tubes and something a little more expensive to fix. We rode to Eva Beach, and my tire was flat just beyond the Post Office. Steven opted to ride back and get his Blazer to come back and get me, so I walked the bike to Eva Methodist's Parking lot, and started taking my wheel off. It gave me a chance to catch my breath, be still and look around at everything, and curse my defective bike. But, while that was going on, I had three different people offer to help me out and give me a ride. It's nice to know there's help. To know that unexpected, difficult things need not always be experienced alone.
The storm will inevitabley come, we won't know exactly when, as a good friend, Emily, and I found out when we decided to check out the view from the Waterfront during a visit to help in the office. The rain came down pretty quick, and my shirt, shorts, socks and shoes were all wet before we could get back to the Administration Building. These things are bound to happen if we are ever to get out from under the roof. But, it's a little more pleasant to know there is help. Someone there to comment on the thunder claps and point out the lightening bolts. So you aren't alone. So you don't have to do all the work on your own.
Be in prayer, this week, for Camp Bluebird, that their time is one of rest, peace, and refreshment. Hope you all find that too.
I moved a cedar tree from up on the hill near my house to our prayer labyrinth upon Gary's request for some low cost decorative trees. I dug it up with a shovel, and moved it down to a spot Corky pointed out as a relatively unrocky spot (which is a bit of a novelty in Benton County). It's a pretty simple process, and cedar trees are very good at taking to the new surroundings as long as they get some light. When you plant a tree, the experts tell you that the first thing you need to do after sinking the tree in the ground is to give it a heavy watering. I guess this helps the soil pack itself around the roots, giving it a firmer foundation. It helps it wrap around the roots better than your packing could possibly do on its own. Then, the water also nourishes this tree that is probably in a bit of shock from being yanked up out of the place it thought it would spend its whole life. I did not bother to water the tree, since we had had so much rain before. But, I realized it didn't really matter anyway. I had just gotten back into my office, when the sky opened up and let a heavy dose of rain fall on Lakeshore. It's nice to have these little blessings.
This week, we have Middle Tennessee Camp Bluebird visiting us. It is a camp for Cancer Survivors that operates all over. West Tennessee Camp Bluebird has been having their camp here far longer than I have been going to camp here, but this is Middle Tennessee's first year with us. These retreats are a lot of fun to witness. They chose a theme and decorate the Conference Center, and they go all out. This group's theme is Rock & Roll, so all over the main building you'll see records hanging from the ceiling and pictures of Elvis and so on. There are so many things they do at this retreat. They have a lot of times designed to help the campers in dealing with cancer, but they also have a lot of fun. There are funny skits, games, and dress up days. It's really tough to tell who is getting the most out of the experience, but it's pretty clear that everyone is getting something.
I was biking with my friend, Steven at the begining of the week, and I was a little worried about my back tire. The tube had gone flat a few weeks ago, and when I changed it, the new tube went flat that day. I changed my tire again, still concerned that this really had less to do with poorly manufactured tubes and something a little more expensive to fix. We rode to Eva Beach, and my tire was flat just beyond the Post Office. Steven opted to ride back and get his Blazer to come back and get me, so I walked the bike to Eva Methodist's Parking lot, and started taking my wheel off. It gave me a chance to catch my breath, be still and look around at everything, and curse my defective bike. But, while that was going on, I had three different people offer to help me out and give me a ride. It's nice to know there's help. To know that unexpected, difficult things need not always be experienced alone.
The storm will inevitabley come, we won't know exactly when, as a good friend, Emily, and I found out when we decided to check out the view from the Waterfront during a visit to help in the office. The rain came down pretty quick, and my shirt, shorts, socks and shoes were all wet before we could get back to the Administration Building. These things are bound to happen if we are ever to get out from under the roof. But, it's a little more pleasant to know there is help. Someone there to comment on the thunder claps and point out the lightening bolts. So you aren't alone. So you don't have to do all the work on your own.
Be in prayer, this week, for Camp Bluebird, that their time is one of rest, peace, and refreshment. Hope you all find that too.
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