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.