A New Roof, Some Firewood, and a Goat

I just wanted to post a few pictures from last weekend’s Labor Day work retreat.

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This is the new roof for the new camp generator. It was built this weekend through the hard work of one of our board members, John Nason.

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Here is the young wood crew. They transport and stack the pieces that the older wood crew are busy splitting.

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My boys and I were goat-sitting for my brother and this little goat loved to help out. Here he is climbing the woodpile with the “kids”.

A huge thank you to everyone who came up and helped out. Camp would not be here if not for you!

 

Boo Boo

Last Chance Summer Camp: Fall Work Retreat

Our last summer camp leaves tomorrow and school starts in three days. But if you want to come up to Camas Meadows before the leaves start turning color, next weekend is your chance.

Over Labor Day weekend we have our annual fall work retreat. It starts with an evening snack on Friday and ends with lunch on Monday. Sweet Tea (our amazing cook) will be providing the vittles and the campers (both young and old) will be providing the manual labor. People come and go as they can, putting in a few hours of work or staying a few days. Whatever works for their schedule. 

Camas Meadows was built and expanded during these biannual work retreats (Fall and Spring) and many necessary projects are completed that help keep camp running smoothly. Fire wood needs to be split and stacked for the long winter ahead, the cabins are deep cleaned before winter rental groups arrive, some work needs to be done on Mountain Panther so that the long awaited cabin bathroom can go in, the grounds are buttoned up for the snows ahead, and hopefully they will get a roof put in for the greatly anticipated new generator. The new generator that will actually be powerful enough to run our dishwasher (and all the summer dishwashers cheered, waving their bleach-chapped hands with elation)!

It is hard work. But when the long day of toil is done, Scruffy will bust out his huge collection of board games and campers get a chance to relax in the lodge before the next day’s toil begins.

So if you are a camper or camp counselor and are missing camp, if you are a parent and kind of wish that you had been the one packing your suitcase for a week away, if you are a dish washer or a board member or a friend of a friend of whoever…come on up. Camp happens because of workers like you. We work hard. We play hard. And it all happens next weekend. So please, consider yourself invited.

 

Boo Boo

Wrapping Up The Summer

We are cleaning up from a rental group last week and preparing to receive another one at the beginning of this week. Then the summer will be officially over. It has been a long and lovely chain of camps. From staff training in June, to these last few rental groups in the final days of August.

Camas Meadows is a simple place. A few log cabins on an alpine meadow, wrapped in quiet forest. Small and insignificant. But so much has happened this summer. God makes beautiful things out of dust, as the song goes.

The speaker at Jr. A Camp said something about mankind. How we were the ragged beggar who was rescued and made a prince. Enemies of God, we now stand before Him as heirs to His throne. Isn’t this the story we love to hear most of all. Luke Skywalker, whiney farm hand, saves the galaxy from the Emperor. Harry Potter, orphaned boy living beneath the stairs, sacrifices himself to defeat Voldemort. Aragon, unknown ranger, is the king in hiding who will wed the Elvin princess and inspire mankind into the next age.

One of my oldest son’s favorite Hank the Cowdog books is Hank and the Case of the Hooking Bull. I think I know why. Normally, Hank rescues the ranch from marauding dinosaur birds (pelicans) or a robot alien in the garden (an armadillo) or saves Sally Mae from poisoned food (by eating all the steaks). Most of the time, Hank is just a dog, doing doggy things and imagining that we could never live without him. But in The Case of the Hooking Bull Hank is more. When a dangerous bull threatens Little Alfred, Hank risks his life to save his boy. He is injured in the line of duty. And even Sally Mae, his archenemy, acknowledges his heroism and condescends to pay good money to get the stinky old dog patched up. Hank is a hero.

That is our story.

What we were before, is not who we are in Christ. God made us to be more. He made us to be princes, but we have chosen to live as paupers, away from Him. But He ransomed us and enabled us to be more. More than everyone thought we were. Heroes.

God makes beauty out of ashes. Beautiful things from dust. This summer was all about that. We are small and we are simple.

God is big.

2 Corinthians 4:7–“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.”

 

Boo Boo

Jr. High Camp #2

It is the last day of camp. Saturday morning. I am sitting on the back porch at the lodge. The worn wood of the deck is smooth under my bare feet and the sunlight slants down through the trees with that bright airiness that seems particular to mornings. My three boys and one of the cook’s grandsons are digging in the volleyball court. They have a running hose and a labyrinth of rivers and lakes crisscrossing across the sand. The campers are singing. I’ll Fly Away and Lean on Me and Blessed Be Your Name. The gentle tones of an acoustic guitar and children’s voices touch the forest this morning. I find myself weeping as I type and listen. For no reason at all.

I didn’t know what to Blog about this morning. I am weary with a terrible cold and void of writerly brilliance. But here I am, somehow finding a corner of camp to share with you.

This is the last Camas-run camp of the summer. We have rental groups through the rest of August. It has been amazing. This week, at least three children re-dedicated their lives to Christ, and one little girl decided to follow Him for the first time. But even more than this has occurred. Camp is like the wardrobe in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia. It takes you away. It is a place that is different then the every day. The forest is bright and clean around you. Wild life thrive nearby. Camp can be incredibly noisy (Have you ever heard 60 kids singing “Pharoah Pharoah” or “Jesus Got Heaps of Lambs”), it is rowdier than the classroom or lunchroom at school. But it also holds a deep kind of quiet that speaks to the soul. At night, when the power is turned off and the dark and the stars surround you, black and bright in the heavens, the woods feel solemn and huge. Quiet, in ways we have forgotten. And the staff, they are here just for you. To love you and teach you and help you grow just a little bit more like Jesus. They are here to chase you in the water fight, urge you to snag the glowstick in capture the flag, and to slurp up gummy worms out of a tub of gravy when no one else from your cabin volunteered.

Things are coming to a close for the summer, but Camas Camps will be back. Much has occurred, kids have been loved, God has been glimpsed. I wish I had words to explain. But sometimes just a peek is enough. And that I can share with you.

 

Boo Boo

A Week Off…Kindof

This week was a rental group instead of a Camas run camp. Actually two rental groups. For the first camp, the staff came on Sunday and then on Monday the campers arrived. This camp left at 12:30 on Friday and the next camp arrived at 1:30 that same Friday. This makes for a tight turnover, trying to get the camp ready for the next group. Nonetheless, after a month of Camas run camps it felt like a little break. Instead of being in charge of every little thing from stocking TP to shopping for lettuce to camper discipline, Scruffy gets to cater to the needs of these rental groups, helping them do the ministry they have come up into the mountains to accomplish. This second rental group finishes up on Sunday, Scruffy will do cabin assignments and other last minute details for Jr. High 2 on Sunday night, and then the staff and campers arrive on Monday for Jr. High 2 our last Camas run summer camp of the season.

Actually, there is a story about that second rental group, the Egyptian Orthodox Church. They have been coming up for several years now and we just love them. They even invited the boys and I to come and do crafts with them one year, so cool. But this year their leader called, they didn’t have enough campers to meet the 40 person minimum. Scruff thought about it and told them that he would facilitate their ministry this year anyway, even without the minimum number of campers. He just felt it was what God wanted him to do. So the leaders prayed about it and struggled, should they go through the expense themselves with such a small number of kids? Finally they called back, they felt that God wanted them to come as well. And you know what? Last week Scruff got a call from their leader. So many last minute campers had come out of the woodwork that not only did they meet the minimum, but she was forced to go and buy new craft supplies four different times!

One of those beautiful, quiet, miracles that God is such an expert at accomplishing. He is good when the campers are few. He is good when the campers are abundant. God is good to His word, accomplishing great things among everyday people.

 

Boo Boo

Jr. B Camp 2014

My oldest son is an incredibly active and inventive boy, but he is also quite straight-laced. When he was little he would plug his ears during singing time at church, because the music was “too wild”. If he is playing an imaginary game with his brothers and everyone is a tiger except one of them who wants to be a cheetah with a prehensile tail, he informs them that only new world monkeys have prehensile tails and that brother better pick a more realistic animal for the game. I love these things about him, but I also love to watch those moments when he lets go and runs rampant with joy.

Camp is one of those times. This week my boy was in the Sasquatch cabin with a bunch of his buddies and a little guy from Korea who spoke about 10 words of English. His counselor got an English to Korean translator on his phone and the camp speaker “just happened” to have a Korean Bible laying around at his house and off they went on a week of adventure. After the very first night game, three of them came to the nurse with bloody knees. They had all run down the same trail together, fallen, and limped to the nurse to show off their war wounds and get patched up. From the sidelines, I watched my little guy laughing and running with his friends. Not brushing his hair until it stuck straight up, doing crazy skits, and wonder of wonders, doing all the motions to “Pharaoh Pharaoh” during singing time. This boy won’t even look up from his book to glance at the overhead during church, but at camp he is a rowdy and confident participant in all things crazy. He even shared at the campfire. My guy, who gritted his teeth and endured standing up to get his reading award at school this year. He chose, on his own, on purpose, to stand up and say something in front of the camp.

I love to see him as a camper.

Camp is a special place. You are safe to learn, to love, to grow, to be goofy, and to TP the other cabins just as long as you never ever use duct tape. I love watching kids blossom at camp, especially my own.

Thank you Maximus, Pippin, and Spitfire for giving my guy a wonderful week. A week where he was away from my hovering, he was a Sasquatch, and he was free to be goofier then he ever had been before. Thank you for showing him that other people besides his parents believe in God too and for walking with him on this journey of growing up.

 

Boo Boo

Glow Stick People

The week of Senior High camp is something that I’m not sure I can explain. How do you express what six days of honesty feels like? Six days of jagged emotion. Six days of weeping and laughing and tearing through scripture and falling on your face before God telling him that you are completely done.

Van Helsing spoke on brokenness.

The first night was about broken bones. The hurts and pains and inevitable tragedies of life that make you want to give up. But scripture is very clear. Trouble and sorrow will come, but God has called us to endure and reach to God. The second night was about broken homes. So many of these kids do not have 2 parents to hold onto. Too many of them have been shattered by the very ones who should be fighting the hardest to save them. Then came broken hearts. We are designed by God to love and trust and thrive. But too few of us are willing to actually set aside our own interests and dare to love. We are a people with broken hearts. And what about broken dreams? There is so much that you hope and dream to achieve and become. What happens to our faith and trust in God if our dreams turn to ashes about our feet? How do we patch our joy back together when life doesn’t work out?

And Friday night…ah yes.

The final lesson was about our Broken Savior.

He was perfect, beloved, unblemished. And then He came, down into our world of dust and blood and hate. He chose the fragrance of smoke and wood curls and the oiled handles of simple tools. He chose the taste of rough country meals. Fish grilled over a fire at dawn, Shabbat wine, and unleavened bread. He chose to hear hungry crowds and hobnailed Roman boots and the bleating of lambs brought to sacrifice. He chose the feeling of gritty roads and weary feet, of course fabric and the pressing desert sun, of fists and beatings and thorns and nails. And Jesus chose to see. He chose to see you and to see me. And not just to see us broken and wandering before Him. He chose to walk our terrible road and rescue us from all the horrors of sin and Hell and a lifetime of death.

Saturday morning was the Revelation Chair.

Kids walked up and sat on a broken bench seat that had been torn out of the bus. They sat and took a glow stick from Van Helsing. Then they broke it. As the broken glow stick began to shine into the room, they told their story. Tales too beautiful and terrible for words. Tales of heartache and horror and God walking here among us. We wept with them and cheered for them as they stood to go. For we are all broken. Broken, bruised, and beaten down. But strangely it is those very shards and cracks which leak forth light. The light of our God, living within, bringing hope to a broken people.

No, I can’t really explain. For I am broken too. But sometimes it is enough just to know that. To see the broken places and watch a God of love as He gathers us up and works His glory. 

Boo Boo

Scruffy and That Boys Cabin

Jr. High camp has been an amazing and challenging adventure this week. Two girls and three boys chose to become followers of Christ, fun was had, kids were loved. A good week. But for this blog, I’m going to focus on a single moment.

There was a moment this week at camp. You know what I mean. A snapshot, an image that you never expected, a slice of time that you want to keep in your heart forever.

It looked like this…

Scruffy kneeling on the gritty linoleum of one of the boys cabins, weeping as Odysseus knelt at his side. And beside them were two twelve-year-old boys, praying for their camp director.

Not what you expected is it? Usually we see kids laughing and dumping water on their camp director, weeping themselves at campfire as they throw in a stick and share, or sitting on the wall by the bell tower listening to the camp director as he doles out a consequence for their misdeeds.

So this is how it happened. Once upon a time there was this really rowdy cabin of boys. And Scruffy gave them this totally awesome counselor because he knew just looking at the cabin assignments how very rowdy they would be. They met and exceeded all expectations and kept their counselor hopping all week long. After chapel the counselor asked Scruff to come and share his testimony, because you may not know it, but Scruffy did not walk out of the polished doors of a church and become camp director. His tale is more like that of C.S. Lewis, dragged screaming and kicking into the kingdom of God.

“I was born to a sixteen-year-old unwed mother, while my father was in jail…” was how Scruff began his testimony. And those rowdy boys listened. Because Scruffy hadn’t had everything going for him. He grew up without a dad and without a mom, surrounded by addiction, and eventually chose addiction himself. But God called and Scruff answered and never looked back.

Then cabin time was over and the boys left, all but two. Those two boys stayed and talked, for another hour. Because sometimes you need to meet someone who didn’t grow up with a dad and a mom who loved them and told them about Jesus for 18 years. Sometimes you need to meet someone whose Mom died before he started kindergarten, whose dad left when she was killed, someone who started drinking hard alcohol as a middleschooler, and was in the first stages of alcoholism before he could legally drink. And when you realize that this is the same man who has not been drunk since 1992, has served as a camp director for 15 summers, been a faithful and loving husband for 14 years this August, and a wonderful Dad for a decade, this is the kind of thing that can give a boy hope. Hope that we are not just the sum of our past plus the mistakes of our family. Hope that God has called us to be more. Hope that He loves us exactly how we are and can change us into something that we always wanted to be.

And when Scruffy shared about the fear that he did not have the skills to be the Dad to his boys that he longed to be. That without a good example, he was destined to fail. This twelve-year-old told him that he should pray and God would give him what he needed. Scruff asked the boys to pray for him…and they did.

And that was a moment that Scruff will never forget. Because sometimes God calls you to go on mission trips and become a camp director and preach mighty sermons before a crowded room. And sometimes He calls you to kneel on the floor of a messy boys cabin and ask two twelve-year-olds to pray for you. Pray that you will be more than what you were, more than you could ever accomplish on your own. Sometimes God calls us to kneel. It is hard and it is humbling. But God does amazing things when we are on our knees.

 

Boo Boo

Jr. A Camp

We just wrapped up Junior A camp yesterday. For the week of Staff Training Scruffy, Choco, and Sparks worked to prepare this year’s counselors and support staff for a summer of service. Last week all that head-knowledge was put to the test. A starlight hike to Inspiration Point, horseback rides down the dusty summer road, splashing in the sun at Lake Chelan, and dashing through the meadow with a milk jug full of water during the big water fight. There is a lot of fun to be had at camp. But all of this requires a good deal of energy, patience, and self-sacrifice. It means making sure the kids have sunscreen on lake day, close toed shoes on horse day, and a buddy close by during night games so they don’t get freaked out by the darkening woods. It means getting down in the sand to make a sculpture of a giant frog during the sand castle competition when you were up late the night before mopping the kitchen. It means sneaking a camper’s sleeping bag to the laundry room so no one knows he had an accident. It means sharing your candy to bribe the cabin inspector and standing by a child’s bunk holding her hand until she falls asleep. It means reading stories at bedtime instead of collapsing into your bunk and running for the puke bucket when your camper gets a surprise case of the flu. A difficult and beautiful task, but the week went well. Two little boys chose to become followers of Christ, a counselor and one camper asked to be baptized in the horse trough down in the meadow, and a passel of kids were shown a week of love in Jesus name. As the mom of a ten-year-old camper this week, I want to thank the counselors. I saw you welcome my boy and the children around him into your hearts. I saw you love and give and laugh and cry. I am thankful for you and I am proud of you. My little guy came home exhausted but exultant. He had a wonderful week, and I was shocked and amazed to discover that he actually remembered the main point of the chapel sessions as well. Our worth is not dependent upon our actions. God loves us and wants us as His own…just because.

Boo Boo

Breakdown

My husband, Scruffy, was scheduled to speak about camp at a little church on the West side of Washington, but everything went wrong. First, the generator that powers the camp broke down. Second, the backup generator that we rented at the last minute at an increased price broke down. Third, some electrical thing-a-ma-bob on the pump for the well broke down. This left Choco no choice but to drive forty minutes to Wal-Mart for jugs of water so the rental group could cook and flush toilets.

As we bid Choco goodbye and rushed over the mountains, Scruffy and I couldn’t help but think: “What in the world are we doing here?” At church that Sunday the pastor spoke from many passages, including Mark 8:34. Scruff and I had been stewing over the upcoming Staff Training session on The Gospel. One of the most important elements of Staff Training is to teach our summer staff how to share the gospel with children in a simple way that is true to scripture. Scruff and I both started scribbling notes, looked up at each other and mouthed, “Staff Training”, then continued to scribble.

Why were we there at that cute little church eating pastries, drinking coffee, and talking to folks when Choco was wrestling with the generator and the well pump and they really needed us back at camp? Perhaps there are reasons that I will never guess, but here is one of them.

Mark 8:34—“Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”

Deny self, take up cross, follow Christ.

It doesn’t get more simple then that folks. And I don’t think you will make things any clearer or more true by adding words. This is the essence of the Christian walk. The Gospel is the good news that Jesus came, He lived, He loved, He died, He rose, He is coming, and He has called us to follow Him. How does one respond to the Gospel and become a follower? Jesus told us Himself.

Deny self, take up cross, follow me.

At that moment Scruff and I knew that we were supposed to be there. God had things to say. We had been stewing and praying and wondering over the Staff Training sessions. But God had answers, at a little church on the Westside, on the weekend that everything broke down.