Blessed are the Peacemakers

Today at church I was asked to do a reading during the song "Let There Be Peace on Earth."  Here's what I wrote.

 He came into the world as Prince of Peace

And called us to be peacemakers,

Said we would be blessed.

And so,

Out beyond the right-doing and wrong-doing

Of all the types of people we are–

Liberals and conservatives,

Rich and poor,

Strong and weak,

Wise and foolish—

Out beyond all our differences

There is a field.

“I’ll meet you there,” the peacemaker says,*

“And there we will walk and talk

And find a way forward.

There we will do the hard work of making peace.

And once we make that peace between us,

Once we build our bridge,

We will BE the peace we seek,

And we will be called Sons and Daughters of God.”

*This quote is based on thoughts from a poet named Rumi.

A Happy Anniversary

On the Friday after Thanksgiving thirty-nine years ago, before there was such a thing as Black Friday, Phil and I got married.  

At church last week, after everyone sang “Happy Anniversary” to us, someone asked Phil how long we had been married.  He answered quickly, “Thirty-nine.  Twenty-five of them happily.”  

“Sounds about right,” I chimed in, and we all had a good laugh.

When I’ve told others about this exchange, a few friends seem a little appalled. Most often people have asked if I know which years were the happy ones and if they were consecutive.  The answers to these questions are we are pretty aware of the years that were the hard ones and which ones were happy, and no, they weren't consecutive.

The truth is Phil and I feel very fortunate to be as happy as we are at this point in our marriage. When we think about being happy for two-thirds of our marriage, we figure we’re ahead of the game, and much more fortunate than a lot of people, whether they stayed together or gave up on it altogether.  

When we took our wedding vows we said, “For better or worse,” and for sure, there’s been a lot of both.  So today begins our fortieth year together, and we spent it with Madeline, laughing and playing.   I expect to add it to the happy side of the marriage ledger.  

Seeds

Just a weed,

            But even a weed can tell a story.

Dried leaves and stalk

Stand alone

As autumn consumes them.

And yet

Tufts of white spring from branches,

Seeds

Ready to fall like snow

When cast on the wind.

Our fallen ones

Left seeds behind;

Our fallen ones

Left seeds,

And already

Life is springing from those seeds.

But in truth,

Those we have lost

Are seeds themselves,

Planted in death,

Ready to put on immortality,

To be clothed in incorruption,

Awaiting the resurrection

That is sure as the spring.

Hallelujah Story

I've told this story before, but I wrote this piece for my creative writing class and thought I'd share it here.

Praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord from the heavens;

    praise him in the heights above.

² Praise him, all his angels;

    praise him, all his heavenly hosts.

³ Praise him, sun and moon;

    praise him, all you shining stars.

⁴ Praise him, you highest heavens

    and you waters above the skies.

Over the past week my daily readings had brought me to these words and others in the last few chapters of Psalms that all call for praise. They seemed to jump off the page at me. How could they not!  I sat every day in my cabin on the shore of a pristine lake in a remote part of northwest Ontario and watched the most amazing things: an eagle swooping to the surface of the water to catch a fish, a beaver slapping its tail to warn others, and loons floating along, diving and surfacing from time to time.  The stillness and beauty of the lake was working on me.

As I returned to the words of the Psalmist, the song, “Shout to the Lord” came to mind. 

“When have I ever shouted to the Lord?’ I thought, and immediately I knew what I had to do. 

It was early in the morning, the dawn of a bright and sunny day.  Fog lay in a thin layer on the surface of the water.  The air felt cool and crisp as I walked out the dock and climbed the ladder to the top of the high dive.  It was so still that I felt very nervous about breaking the silence with my shout. But I was determined.  I raised both my arms to the heavens, lifted my face to the sky and yelled, “Hallelujah!”  The echo reverberated from the island in the middle of the lake and returned to my ears.

Later I decided to share this story with my friend in the next cabin.  She was surprised and said, “You know, I told John I heard someone yelling outside this morning.  I looked out and saw you on the high dive.  But I didn’t think it could possibly be you shouting.”

And just like that, my identity changed.  I went from being someone who wouldn’t even be suspected of having shouted to the Lord, to being famous for this in our little camp community.

Over the past few years I’ve shared this story many times. Often I am leading a group in an outdoor chapel at one of the awe-inspiring settings around the camp. We might be at Bear Track, on a high peak looking out over the lake below and watching the pinks and reds of the sunset play against the sky.  We sometimes travel down a short trail to Sunset Point where we climb on large rocks that jut out into the lake and give us an amazing perspective.  But wherever we are, we lift our hands together and raise our voices in unison.

“Hallelujah!  Praise the Lord!” 

Going Back to School

I did something these past couple of months that I hadn't done in a long time.  I took a class.  It was an online class in creative writing.  This has been a year of growth and discovery in my writing, and when this class became available I thought I'd give it a try.  The teacher is Dr. Jonathan Rogers, and the class is called "Writing Close to the Earth."  I found out about this class through the connections I made at the Hutchmoot conference I attended last fall. (I'm going to Hutchmoot again next week, and I can hardly wait!)

Here are a few of the things I learned from Dr. Rogers:

1.  The class was called "Writing Close to the Earth" because Dr. Rogers wanted us to really explain with all our senses what we were experiencing.   He wanted us to take our readers into the moment and let them see what we see, hear what we hear, feel what we feel.  It has really helped me be more aware of being in the moment and think about how to describe what I am experiencing.

2.  On each assignment I got pretty much the same feedback (I know, I'm a slow learner).  I always explained too much, told too much of the backstory to what was going on.  I am learning to let the actions of the moment speak for themselves.

3.  Although some people might be challenged to create a 500 word story, I often found it difficult to confine myself to that number.  Dr. Rogers told me that was the point-- to make me have to really think about what to include and what to leave out.

4.  Every week there were reading assignments related to the prompt we were to write about for that week.  For the most part, they were wonderful things to read.  I especially liked the pieces of Dr. Rogers' own writing that he shared with us.  They were very well done.

5.  It's hard to recover from making a bad response to a prompt.  I feel like I wasted one whole assignment making a terrible choice about what to write about.

6.  The feedback I got from Dr. Rogers on every assignment was so helpful.  I guess this is what it must be like to have an editor.  Phil said this must be what it feels like to go to a great school and have top-notch teachers.  Most of the time when I have someone read a piece I wrote the response is "That's really good," or "I like this."  It was very helpful to have real criticism designed to bring out the best in the story I'm trying to tell.

I enjoyed this class very much, and I will post a couple of the stories I wrote here in the next few days.

My Friend Cathy

I lost another friend to cancer today.  This has been a hard season, four friends in less than six months.  Phil and I had gotten word that Cathy was in the hospital over the weekend so we knew the end of her life was imminent.  On Saturday I wrote this poem.

I am in the kitchen chopping carrots,

            And Cathy lies in a bed dying.

I picture her in her own kitchen flitting

            From oven

            To sink

            To refrigerator

Like a butterfly flitting among flowers in her garden.

She moves with such ease,

Cutting up apples and cheese,

Artfully arranging them on a clean white plate.

From the oven she pulls a peach pie,

One that she had baked when the peaches were fresh,

Put in the freezer until the right occasion arose,

And we are the felicitous recipients of her hospitality.

I am in the kitchen cutting up celery,

            And Cathy lies in a bed dying.

I see her smile as she lounges with us on her patio.

She is the consummate hostess—

            Always welcoming

            Always comfortable

            Always making time

She pets her beloved dog Coco and laughs at the stories we share

Of friendships past and present

Of times gone by but still held dear.

I am in the kitchen chopping onions,

            

            And Cathy lies in a bed dying.

The onions work on me, and stinging tears come.

But they are mixed with tears of sorrow for my sweet friend

Who I will miss so much.

Cathy was a friend of Phil's from high school days.  As members of the Calvary Baptist youth group, Phil and Cathy had both made the trip to Camp of the Woods, and so she was very interested and supportive when we started spending our summers there.  Cathy and John's house became a way station for us on our trips back and forth to Canada.  We enjoyed many delicious meals, comfortable nights' rest and great conversations at their house. 

I have been thinking a lot about my friends who have passed away and those they have left behind.  I can only imagine that it feels like you have had a hole blown in your life.  My prayers are with John today and with my others friends who must learn to live on the other side of their loss.

Fall in Canada

We have arrived in Canada at the beginning of the fall season here.  It is my favorite time of year, and the great thing about coming to Camp of the Woods is that we get to have fall twice, once here and then again back home.  Double the pleasure!  So the doldrums have been replaced by Canadian adventure.

The pace of our days is very slow and relaxing.  Phil works in the shop part of the day.  I have been spending my time writing birthday cards to campers, a task I thoroughly enjoy, and teaching science to some of the staff kids here at camp. I get the fun of doing experiments with the kids and the added bonus of testing out some lessons for Will and his students.  These have been some good lessons about matter and chemistry.  Here are some pictures from one of the experiments about how things dissolve in water.  We were really fascinated by the results we got.

Our evenings are spent taking turns having dinner with our friends here at camp, each evening with a different family.  We've had some great conversations, which is something we love to do.  There is an intimate bonding that takes place when we sit down to meals and conversations, and our connections here are strengthened with each bite.

But our favorite times are outside, walking a trail or walking the camp road.  The colors are just getting started yet already beautiful.  Although I've not seen any wildlife to speak of except a stray pigeon, which was really weird, Phil has had some spectacular encounters with three bull moose.  But that's his story to tell, not mine.

Here are some pictures of the fall foliage.  Enjoy!

Some colors on a stretch of the camp road

The mushroom outside our cabin.  There are all kinds of mushrooms everywhere.
This one is about as big around as a paper plate.

One morning we got up and the mushroom looked like this.
Something must be eating it, but I don't know what.

Ferns are plentiful here too and before the shrivel up and die they turn
the most beautiful shade of golden brown.

Ferns in the sunlight

One of the most colorful tress in the forest here is striped maple or moose maple.
They are small, shrubby trees that turn all shades of red and orange,
including this brilliant red.

All along the edge of the camp road this is what you see.

Out of the Doldrums

The word "doldrums" is a nautical term describing an area near the equator in which the weather can be unpredictable but is often noted for calm periods when the winds disappear altogether, trapping sail-powered boats for periods of days or weeks.  Thus, we often describe periods of stagnation or inactivity in our lives as being in the doldrums.

When Phil and I returned home to Tennessee after spending the summer at Camp of the Woods, we found ourselves in the doldrums.  After enjoying the mild climate of the Canadian summer, the heat was oppressive.  Any time we stepped outdoors and exerted ourselves in the least we found ourselves dripping with sweat.  The cool air-conditioning held us inside our house like prisoners.  We became less and less interested in doing anything in that heat.

Phil spends a lot of his time in the basement turning bowls and working on other projects.  The basement is cool most of the time, but the humidity is what gets you.  So he still sweats, and then on top of that he's covered in dust.  Oh, it's not a pretty sight!

For the past few years we have come home and then returned to Canada for some leisure time around the middle of September.  That also leads to the doldrums in another way.  It is hard to start many activities when you know you'll be leaving in a few short weeks, so you wait.  You mark time.

Some people have asked why we come home at all.  It's a valid question.  It's mostly my doing because I think Phil would be happy to stay.  But we both miss our kids and our dear Madeline.  My parents are there, and I miss them too and feel the need to check up on them.  It's all good stuff.

But it's not all inactivity.

I spent a lot of time raising money and support for Feed My Starving Children.  It was great visiting different churches and connecting with my friends in each one.  I was thankful to have Melissa Tibbs along with me on some of these occasions as she was willing to share some of her insights from our trip to Haiti.

I have become involved with Green Steps and am volunteering to monitor one of the stations that have been set up in the county.  Look for them around town.

I spent a Saturday morning floating the river and picking up trash with Simone Madsen and others. I made some new friends.

G was my partner for the day.

And of course, there was Madeline...

Catching tadpoles with Pop

Playing dress up

But now we are out of the doldrums and back in Canada.  More on that later.

Aundria Dishman

I have known Aundria for a long time.  Since I was much older than she was, I wasn't really close to her, but I did know some things about her.  She was a hard worker.  She liked to make things happen. She loved the Lord.

A few years ago I found out we had something in common.  We had both been to a Feed My Starving Children mobile pack in Chattanooga, and we both fell in love with this ministry.  We both thought this would be a great event for Dunlap.  So when I approached leadership with the idea of holding a pack, I found out that she had asked first.  Neither of us had success in getting this event off the ground.

In late 2016 I still had Feed My Starving Children on my mind and decided to try again to get this event going.  My first call was to Aundria, and she was committed immediately.  We decided to hold an initial meeting to begin planning the mobile pack.

Before we could have our first meeting, Aundria found out she had cancer.  She was able to come to the meeting and pledged to be whatever help she could, but she was unsure of what she might feel like doing.  She was able to persuade her extended family to make the first large donation to the pack.  

Aundria never made it to the mobile pack in April of 2017.  Between her rounds of chemo, she spent lots of time with Derrick, her girls and other family members.  Time was precious.

Aundria passed away back in April after losing her battle with cancer.  In order to remember her and honor her, I got permission from her family to call this next Feed My Starving Children mobile pack the Aundria Dishman Memorial Pack.  I hope it will be a way to remember her love for the Lord, her love for her community, and her service to others.

Special Campers

 Just as when I was a teacher, there are always kids at camp who stand out, who touch your heart in a special way.  Let me tell you about two of them.

The first year Maddie came to camp she was eight years old.  She didn’t smile much, and she never wanted to participate in the games. She always just wanted to watch. I was sure she wouldn’t come back.

But come back she did. She’s been coming ever since, and she loves it all.  The next two years she and her cousin Sophia would always walk with me on the hikes. The challenging part of that was that they always wanted to hold my hands.  I’m not a real touchy-feely person, and my hands would get so sweaty that I would want to take my hand away.  But I never did because these girls were just the sweetest, and it was a special gift for them to want my company.

Maddie has grown, and that’s not how it works anymore.  But that’s ok.

This year she asked for a Bible and her cabin leaders got her one and signed it for her and marked a lot of good verses for her to read.  The last night of camp she brought her Bible to me and asked me to sign it.  “I saved a page for you,” she said.  I filled the whole page up with words I hope she will want to remember.

Something else happened this summer.  Another camper came along who wanted to walk with me and hold my hand.  Emery is another one of those special kids.  She wants to be my pen pal throughout the year this year.  I’m looking forward to it.

I put some of these thoughts into a poem.  It seemed the right medium for saving this memory.

Maddie

Five summers ago you took my hand

And hiked each day of camp.

You talked and laughed to my delight

Until my hand was damp.

Two summers more your face lit up

When first we’d meet again.

And still you held my hand on walks

And with me you’d remain.

But as you’ve grown these past few years

My time with you is passed.

My hand and company are not required. 

I have been surpassed.

This year another camper came

So like you in many ways.

Kind and sweet and talkative,

Smiling and eyes a-blaze.

She held my hand and hiked with me

And did so with great delight.

She shared with me such special things—

And all was then put right.

She won’t replace you in my heart.

There’s room for both (and more).

You’ll always hold a special place,

Always be adored.

But time flies by (as it must),

And life moves on (as it should).

And you grow up and I grow old

And life is very good.

  

 

Saga of a Storyteller

Every summer one of the things I really enjoy doing is taking the kids on hikes and telling them a story.  Since our theme has been “The Amazing Race” my stories have all had the tagline “Winners in the kingdom of God look different from other winners because…”  I’ve told the story of Elisha and his servant from 2 Kings 6 who had his eyes opened to the army of God surrounding them and several other stories.

Schuyler before he gets in the lake

 I asked one of our summer staffers to tell the story of Naaman being healed of leprosy.  Schulyer is a very good story teller in his own right and has done a great job with this story.  Also, it saved me from having to get in the lake each week.  It’s a win-win!

But then something else happened that hasn’t happened here since I’ve been telling stories.  Another woman showed up who wanted to tell stories. Brenda is the mother of one our long time staffers and is about my age.  She has been a story teller for a long time and was very good at it.  In a lot of ways, she reminded me of myself.

That being said, this week has been about some introspection and self-evaluation.  It made me look back to the first few times I came to camp and kind of step outside myself and think about how I was perceived by the people who were here then.  I came in and took someone else’s place who was the storyteller before me, and I was able to write to him and tell him how gracious he had been to let me in.  So then I was able to open the door for someone else to come in and tell a story.

The thing is, though, that it’s not really just about the story.  It’s about the relationship I have been building with kids through my stories over the years.  I am so thankful for the opportunity that I’ve had to share things from the Bible that will help kids live a better life if they will listen and apply it.  And there are certainly those who do.

So this week I’m back to my full range of duties with games and hikes and stories.  The camp will be full to maximum capacity.  It’s going to be a great last week of camp.  I can’t wait!

The things you learn.  For years I've always stood at the top of the
hill to tell my story on Three Hills Trail.  This time I told it from the bottom
and for the first time realized that all the times in the past the kids
couldn't look up at me because the sun was too bright.
 I had a hard time looking up at them.  Now I know this is where I
should always stand to tell stories at Three Hills.

The Amazing Race COTW 2018

I have been unusually quiet about camp this summer.  That’s what my sister tells me (my brother, too).  And they are right.  I have been unusually quiet about camp this summer and mostly it’s because it’s very much the same as usual.  Not much to say that hasn’t already been said.  But at their prompting, I will share this update about what’s going on up here in the Great White North.

This year’s theme is The Amazing Race.  This was the theme for the summer of 2010 when I first came to Camp of the Woods. I designed a “race” back then and they saved all the pieces and we resurrected it this summer with many improvements.  Each day we “travel” to a different continent and do tasks related to that place.  Here are some of pictures of what it looks like:

Zimbabwe: Carrying water

Argentina;  Polo

US Virgin Islands:  Pancake Flipping Race

USA:  Barrel Racing

Canada:  Building Innukshuk

I have been telling stories about winners.  I tell the campers that winners in the Kingdom of God look different than winners in races might look.  I tell them about how Elisha’s servant had his eyes opened to the army of God that was surrounding them and protecting them.  I want them to see that winners in the Kingdom of God see things that others can’t see.  I want God to open their eyes to see that there is a God and he cares for them.  

Adam has been doing the evening chapels.  He has been speaking on God’s Amazing Grace, and he has been using the life of Paul and his journeys as the basis for his talks.

The team that came for Mission Week back in June did an amazing job decorating.  There are so many little details in the lodge that I have been playing “I Spy” for the evening entertainment to get them to pay attention to all the things that have been put in there.  Kudos to Tracey Sarris for the imagination to pull this off.

So that’s some of the surface stuff about camp.  Soon I’ll try to talk about some of the deeper things going on this summer.

Rebellion

Today's poem...

Prompt: write a poem about rebellion.

This morning before I went on my trip
I left my coffee cup sitting in the sink.
I know you hate that

And I did it anyway.

I knew that you would look at it with disgust,
That you would grumble about how I ALWAYS do it,
That it would mess with your "system".

And somehow
That brought a little smile to my lips.

What I Learned in Haiti

As we traveled along the countryside in Haiti and got to know the partners on the ground, there were several things that I learned.  Here are some of them.

1.  I observed firsthand the diligence that FMSC goes to to be sure the food you pack gets into the bellies of kids.  Records are kept and audited often, to ensure that food is not wasted or sold for other items.  Children are weighed and measure to check their growth.  I can also personally attest to the food getting to the children.  When we served lunch to a school with 500 students, every plate came back completely empty.

2.  FMSC has a great desire to empower people in the area where the food is being distributed. Every partner we visited was working to employ as many Haitians as possible and not just for the lowest paying jobs.  They were training people for management and leadership so that these operations can continue to run without depending on American involvement on the ground.  They are also developing partnerships with farmers in several countries to buy rice and beans in their own country without having to ship them in from other places.  This a long and complicated process but one that FMSC is committed to.

3.  Every partner has an on-going long-term relationship with the children at each ministry.  When we pack food we don’t have any idea who is getting our food—they are anonymous to us.  But when it is distributed it is given by people who know Beno and Wowo, Ludienda and Blondine, Wagner and Drew, by name, and these people are invested in their lives.  I could go on and on with stories from Haiti but I have chosen just one to share with you.

Ricardo runs Hotfutbol

Ricardo runs an afterschool soccer program called Hot Futbol.  Each Tuesday-Friday about 170 kids come to form teams, work with coaches and on Saturdays they play teams from other communities.  Ricardo is passionate about this program because he was helped by a program like this when he was a kid.  (Most of our partners in Haiti expressed a strong desire to pay it forward because of help they had received when they were young.)  At the end of every practice session the kids are fed. Ricardo started feeding them because of an experience he had.

One day when this program was just getting started Ricardo took a team to compete in another community. During the first period of the game his team played great and were obviously the better team.  But during the second period they fell apart.  They ended up losing the game.  Frustrated, Ricardo spoke to the boys and said, “What happened?  You should have won that game.”  The boys replied, “We’re sorry, Coach.  We are starving.” And that’s when Ricardo knew he had to find a way to feed them. He raises funds for this program and he told us that if it weren’t for FMSC 70% of his funds would go to food. This soccer program is an important part of the players’ health but it also plays another important role. Players must be attending school to participate.  This incentive keeps lots of boys and girls in school longer so they get more education and to have the potential to get better jobs.

Everywhere we went we wanted to do more but in providing food we were freeing up funds to be used for all kinds of other purposes.

Feeding kids is important work so we are planning another mobile pack.  It will be on November 2-3.  I am planning on having it at the National Guard building again.  So it’s time to go to work to raise the funds to pay for the pack.  We raised enough money for our pack last year to have $2500 left over to be credited to this new pack.  We still need to raise $20,000.  Last Sunday Chapel kicked it off by donating nearly around $900.  I hope you will generously support this endeavor and that many of you will be available to join us to pack food in November.