Imagine, if you will, one of the Thin Places of the world.
A place in the middle of nowhere, off a two-lane road in south Texas.
A river runs along one border, with gigantic trees digging their thirsty toes into the banks.
The grass in August is brown and crispy.
It's a hundred degrees in the shade.
welcome to Camp Capers.
The diocese of West Texas has run a kids' camp there since before my parents were born. I met a couple of third-generation campers there. The current bishop of West Texas, the most recent bishop of West Texas, and the bishop suffragan of West Texas all were campers there, and summer staff counselors, and all met their future spouses there. Seems like half the clergy of the diocese were campers or counselors or both.
It's not the programs. We do things like play kickball and capture the flag.
It's not the facilities, which are mostly not air-conditioned, and some are showing their age.
It sure ain't the weather.
It's God. somehow. We bring kids up there and love on them for a week at a time, and it changes their lives. Doesn't seem logical. But somewhere in the middle of the camp songs and the arts and crafts and the swimming in the river, God acts. You can see the results.
You know what I call the place? sacred ground.
I got to be the chaplain for a week. I'm dead tired. but it's a good tired.
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St. Sam used a typewriter; I use a fountain pen.
1 comment:
Congratulations on surviving a week at camp, and on making such a difference in the lives of young people! I also just returned from a week at church camp, and agree with everything you say. We have a swimming pool, a dining hall, a lot of dust, and not much else, yet kids are willing to give up their iPods, fast food and shopping mall excursions to spend a week there.
Yeah, it must be God.
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