COTW 2019 Week 1

I have decided to take a lesson from my good friend Bea and write an update every week of the summer for those of you back home.  To begin with, it was great to be back with Phil after such a long time apart.  It was also so good to spend the week with our son Will.  Will had spent a summer here back in 2011and has several friends here so it was good to keep up those connections.  Even though Will only lives about five minutes from us in Dunlap, we don't always get to spend the extended time together that leads to lots of good conversations.  When he left for home I felt tears come to my eyes and that surprised me.

Part of my week has been spent unpacking, deep cleaning the Loon's Nest (our cabin), and just generally getting settled back into the routine of camp.  I have helped out in the kitchen some, and been involved in some of the staff training that has been taking place this week for the young people who have come to be our summer staff.  It is a large group of nearly thirty young adults and teens, and I am excited to be able to work with them this summer.

Special dinner with staff topped off our week of training.

This special dinner was a true gift from the kitchen staff and leadership team.
I appreciated their thoughtfulness so much.

The thing that has struck me the most this week has been the relationships that have been begun or are being reestablished.  Let me just give you a snapshot of my Wednesday evening.

After chapel Will and I went to the Kanes' house (our friends who are here full time).  We spent about half an hour just talking about life.  I had noticed how content Billie seems to be here now, and she got to talk about how God was building patience into her life.  After that Will went and spent some time with their 19-year-old son, Alex, who is autistic.  I went to the lodge where I had a conversation about my mom's surgery with Seth, and then got to hear from a young man who is here as an intern about the difficulties of leaving his very tight-knit family.  Will ended up in a game of Aggravation so I went back to the cabin.  I ran into Shelby, who spent a couple of summers as our head life guard, and was just back for the evening to visit friends.  She brought Haley with her and these to girls visited with us for about thirty minutes, talking about what they are doing and what they hope to do in the future.

All these connections, all this time for talking and investing in each other is what makes my time at Camp of the Woods so special.  The connections here run deep and span a lot of time.  My life is so much richer because of all the relationships I have built during the past ten years of ministry at COTW.

Staff returning from outdoor chapel at Beartrack Lake.  Canoeing at
sunset is spectacular.

Prayer requests:

Please remember my mother who is having surgery on her nose on Monday to remove some skin cancer.  She has already had substantial work on her nose in the past and it has not been easy.

Pray for me as my biggest job this week will be to tell Bible stories on the morning hike.  Pray that I will have a clear message of how Jesus makes all difference in our lives and that following Him is the best path for your life.

Our key verse for the summer

Good in the World

Kids, grandkids and great-grandkids

Earlier this week our family gathered to celebrate Father's Day with my dad.  We had a good time together, and I enjoyed seeing all the faces at the table.  After the meal I said to Dad, "You have good kids, good grandkids, good great-grandkids. What a great thing!"

After coming home I thought some more about this comment.  Yes, my dad (and of course, my mom) has a lot of good people in his family-- four kids, eleven grandkids, and nine great-grandkids.  Dad's descendants are living or at work in far-flung places like Canada, Ukraine and Bulgaria, Georgia and Colorado, Florida and Indiana.  We also inhabit not so far-flung places like Dayton, Dunlap and Chattanooga. But all these good people are not just good people.  They are good people adding good to the world.

In some places they are preaching the Gospel and calling people to salvation.  In other places they are bettering the lives of people through education and health care. Others are ending the oppression of poverty and racial injustice in the lives of those they touch.  Many work in and through their churches to better their communities and share a portion of their income to support important work that they care about.

All this good has as its foundation the home my dad built with my mom.  They came together to make a home that honored Jesus Christ and nurtured us all to become the good people we are.  I'm so glad to be his daughter, and so pleased to be counted in the number of his descendants who are working every day to make this world a better place.

Life and Death Collide

Photo via Chattanooga Times Free Press

 My weekend took me to two very different events in the course of one day.  On Saturday afternoon I went to the funeral of Rachel Held Evans, and later on Saturday evening I attended the wedding of Autumn Cofield.

There’s no denying the fact that life and death walk alongside each other on the paths of our lives, but this weekend they collided and overlapped…

--In a father carrying his one-year-old daughter and holding the hand of his three-year-old son as they walked behind the casket of his wife and their mother; and in a father walking the bride down the aisle strewn with petals by the young flower girls.

--In a mother-of-the-bride who buried her mother on Monday and walked down her daughters’ wedding aisle on the arm of her widowed father on Saturday.

--In hearing a young woman give the eulogy at the funeral of her older sister; then hours later, hearing another young woman, who was the maid of honor, toast her just-wed sister at the reception.

Photo via Chattanooga Times Free Press

--In listening to my daughter sob for all the reasons she was sad at losing her friend; and later listening to the laughter of friends recounting good times with the bride and groom.

            --In grieving all that was lost in the death of Rachel, all that could have been, all that should have been; and in celebrating all the joy at the wedding of Autumn and Richard, and dreaming with them of all that has begun and is to come.

When we see this collision of life and death in the same space it is jarring.  Beautiful and terrible all at the same time.  I know that for Dan Evans, the reality jars him daily. Only days after Rachel’s passing, he hosted a birthday party for his sweet little girl, and that is but a single example of how death slaps you in the face, kicks you in the gut, over and over…and life goes on.  The words of poet Judah Halevi ring true in this space:

Tis a fearful thing

To love what death can touch.

A fearful thing

To love, to hope, to dream, 

To be, and O, to lose.

A thing for fools, this,

And a holy thing.

A holy thing… to love.

For your life has lived in me.

Your laugh once lifted me.

To remember this brings painful joy.

Tis a human thing, love,

A holy thing…

To love what death has touched.

Birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, and graduations will mark the time and witness to the truth that life indeed does go on.  Autumn’s wedding attested to that fact.  My gift to her was a poem I wrote.  It is a snapshot in words of a time held dear, and a wish for a bright future with Richard.

A beautiful sunset,

Yellow, orange, red,

Still waters on the lake,

A loon calling mournfully to its mate,

Good friends gathered in a cozy cabin,

Fresh blueberry pie on my plate.

These were the elements

Of a perfect evening.

“It doesn’t get any better than this,”

I remember saying.

And then you entered the scene,

Sitting behind us

In the darkness that was slowly enfolding the cabin.

You played your cello.

For the next half hour

You transported us from the beautiful

To the sublime,

The transcendent.

It is one of my favorite memories.

I wish for you and Richard

Moments like this,

Memories like this,

Love like this.

Days like this remind me of a verse in Psalm 90 that says, “Teach us to number our days,” and a better translation might be “Teach us that our days are numbered.”  Rachel’s sister Amanda brought this home to us at the funeral by playing a beautiful song she wrote for her sister and never played it for her. She had no reason why except that she thought she had time. 

Yes, there is no doubt that life and death walk side by side in our lives, one taking the lead at times while the other lags behind, later to change positions.  This is the ebb and flow of life.

My First Prom

 

What a great group of kids!

Saturday night the youth at our church hosted a “Senior Prom.”  Anyone over sixty was invited to come with or without a date to enjoy an evening of music, dancing and fun.  The kids spent Friday afternoon preparing food and decorating the gym.  Saturday evening came and the crowd slowly trickled in (when it’s seniors, that’s the pace for most things...a slow trickle).  Over the course of the evening between fifty and sixty people came.

This prom was a beautiful thing in so many ways.  The young people put a lot of time and effort into serving the older population of our church.  They were thoughtful in their plans to make it enjoyable for everyone, whatever their physical limitations might be.  The seniors supported the youth by coming out, and participating in this unusual event. This setting became a great place for the two generations to find some common ground, and have some fun together. It was amazing!

Slow dancing

Anna Kate and Ed

Ontario and Betty
(That Betty is a dancer!)

The dance floor was full.

Us girls dancing together

Libby and Howard

The band was fantastic and played a great mixture of music from the fifties and sixties.  There were songs for rocking out and songs for slow dancing, and people did a good bit of both.  It was surprising to see who the ones who loved dancing were; they were up for almost every song.  Some who had limited mobility were accommodated and were able to enjoy it as well.

Chris, Charlotte, Sonny, and our drummer

Keith, as Elvis, danced with just about everyone.
He was a lot of fun!

There was the election of a prom king and queen.

Dot and Howard Hatcher

 There was a then and now game, matching pictures of people from their younger days, which I won (a $25 gift card to the Cookie Jar… good for me!)

Collecting my prize from Cindy

 Now I have to confess that I didn’t want to go for several reasons. 

1. I never went to a prom.  I grew up in a “Footloose” kind of culture where we didn’t dance, and our church put on a banquet for us instead of a prom.  Let me add that not learning to dance is one of my regrets in life.  There is such an expression of joy in music and dance that I really feel like I missed out. Although I’ve danced a lot with kids, especially at camp, I felt pretty insecure about dancing with my peers.

2. I was a little disgruntled that I was old enough to attend (just keepin’ it real here).

3. I wasn’t sure about what to wear. 

4. I thought the idea of having a prom for us was just weird.

5. If Phil had been around I would have used him as an excuse not to go.

Fred putting me at ease

So in saying all this, it’s funny that this event dredged up a lot of the same feelings teenagers have when getting ready to go to the prom.  It was true for me and for other too.

But I’m so glad I went. And I am so thankful for the kids who put this all together and for their fearless leaders, Cindy and Hank, who went above and beyond to make this happen.  I love you all!

Conversations at the Kids' Table on Easter Sunday

This isn't the kids' table but this was on Easter Sunday.

Does this house have a chimney? Yes, there it is.  The thing that looks like a pistol?  A pistol? It's that pipe.  I love cheese.  Eat two more bites of ham.  I don’t want my egg.  Give it to her.

Are we going to hunt eggs?  After we eat. The chimney looks like a pistol.  What?  He means “pistil,” like in a flower.  Oh, wow! He’s right.  It does. What five-year-old knows “pistil”? More tea.  I’m done.  Me, too. No, you don’t.  Four more bites.  If you don’t eat your food,  you can’t have birthday cake.  I don’t want cake.  I’m done. Stop talking and eat.  Don’t say that to my brother.  You’re not our boss.  Don’t talk to Auntie like that.  Are you her mother?  Let’s go hunt eggs!

Whew!

Taking the Next Step

I’ve spent some time reading the twitter feed about Rachel Held Evans at #becauseofRHE.  Many women have expressed that because of Rachel and her words and books, they are now pastors or other kinds of ministers in their churches.  I have to add my story to the list now too.

Tomorrow I will take my first class to become a certified lay minister in the United Methodist Church.

I don’t know right now exactly what this means in my life.  According to UMC bylaws, “a certified lay minister is a certified lay servant, certified lay missioner, (or equivalent as defined by his or her central conference), who is called and equipped to conduct public worship, care for the congregation, assist in program leadership, develop new and existing faith communities, preach the Word, lead small groups, or establish community ministries as part of a ministry team with the supervision and support of a clergy person.”  So right now I just know that this step will create some opportunities that aren’t available to me now.

I have long felt the call of God in my life to serve Him in whatever ways He led.  I have been a children’s ministry leader, a Sunday School teacher, a missionary to Canada and a leader in many of the activities of the churches I have attended.  But a few years ago I began to feel that God was calling me to even more.  That’s why I am going down this path now… to see what’s next and to make myself available to it.

It’s not lost on me that I’m sixty-one years old, and that I’m coming late to the game.  But every step I take in this direction may make it easier for the next woman to consider this path for herself. 

Recently I wrote a poem about the changes I have undergone in the past few years.  

            A New Song

The record spins

And plays its tune,

Its melody etched in each groove,

The perfect performance every time.

There is some satisfaction in that perfection.

No need to change a thing...

Until a scratch

Impedes the progress

Of the needle,

And a word or note

Repeats

Repeats

Repeats

A New Song emerges

Alive

Varied

Improvised

No longer

Restrained or confined.

The beauty of the New Song

Steels my heart.

Rachel Held Evans was one of the causes of the scratch I talk about in this poem.  She made me think about what I believe and challenged me. But Rachel was also a voice that helped me find a new song, and to have the courage to sing it out loud.  I will always be grateful for that.

Rachel Held Evans

Another friend passed away today.  Rachel Held Evans was only 37 years old.  She leaves behind her husband Dan and two children ages 3 and 11 months.  She was still nursing her baby.  Rachel took some antibiotics for an infection and then started having seizures.  They placed her in a medically induced coma, but she never recovered.  We are grief-stricken for the family and friends she leaves behind.

I was first introduced to Rachel by my daughter Kathryn.  When Kathryn moved to Dayton, she and Brandon became a part of a church start that was being led by Rachel and others.  I started reading her blog and found what she had to say very challenging. Phil and I were talking about this the other day.  We grew up in traditions that taught us to knowthe Bible, but we weren’t taught tothinkabout the Bible.  Rachel was the first voice I heard that really made me think about the Bible and grapple with some of the hard things you find there.  I am forever grateful for the impact she has had on my life.

Thankfully, her voice lives on from her writings.  If you haven’t read any of her books, I think you would love her book, Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again.  Other books she has written are Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church; Faith Unraveled: How a Girl Who Knew All the Answers Learned to Ask Questions;A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband ‘Master’. 

Although Rachel struggled with doubts about her faith, she had come to a wonderful peace with those doubts, and this was evident in her last book.  We all struggle with how her death makes sense in any way.  And it is with great sadness that I think about all her critics who may seize this opportunity to call this the judgement of God upon her life for some of her more controversial positions.  

But Rachel and her family held fast to the most important tenet of our faith—the Resurrection.  It gives us all great hope that she lives on in great peace and comfort with her Savior.  It is those who are left behind who struggle with the hole that has been blown wide open in their lives. Please pray for Dan, the kids, and Rachel’s parents and in-laws as they deal with this great tragedy.  Pray especially for Dan, as his livelihood was wrapped up in Rachel and her books and appearances.  He will have to find a way forward.

My heart breaks for these dear ones.