Last Week I Learned... Part 3

...it's going to rain so I better be prepared.

...just let the bear have whatever the bear wants














...and stay out of his way...unless you're burly and have a big voice...(or a stick and a pile of rocks)

.
...you've got to keep climbing, even when the mountain seems impossibly high

...if you go hiking with this guy he will take really good care of you










...bloom where you are planted...even if it is in the middle of the path...and you might get stepped on

...keep looking up

...there will always be another mountain for another day---at least, in Colorado

Last Week I Learned... Part 2

...to look for reminders of the love of Jesus everywhere

...a few aspen trees can make even a scummy lake beautiful

...I don't need reveille when the sunrise calls to me as it kisses the trees on the mountain above our campsite

...even the trees have eyes

...to put my focus on what is really important--both in life and in photography

...stopping to smell the flowers is worth having to run to catch up

Last Week I Learned... Part 1

 

...there's joy in the journey as well as in the destination.

...even thistles are beautiful.



















...this is fashionable footwear at camp.













...Spam isn't really so bad...as long as you're hungry and there is lots of cheese on top!

...perspective is everything. The tree seems bigger than the mountain but that is just because I am closer to it. Should I focus on the mountain I could climb tomorrow or the tree I could climb today?






...whatever you do, stay on the path

..

A Week at Summer Camp

A week that began with a car breakdown on the drive to camp, which was just a hint of the car troubles to come. Problems with a fuel injector, a dead battery, a starter motor that went out and a blown-out tire were some of the challenges our vehicles faced throughout the week.

A week of living in this little "village":

A week that that included several bear sightings and the pillaging of the girls' tent--twice.

A week when aforesaid bear was not content with rummaging through our things--he had to take Kelly's entire backpack up the mountain behind our campsite, claw through it and examine all of the contents. After consuming several granola bars, he grabbed the sleeping bag, took it farther up the mountain and shredded it royally.

A week of nicknames (inside my head mostly but not entirely) that began with "Harrah", ended with "Rambo" (Mark's nickname for Kelly) and included: Moose, Spike, Rye, Pocahontas, Bee, Cap'n, Mountie and Bush.

A week with a few trips to the First Aid Hut as well as to the hospital in Pueblo. Dehydration, allergies, a swollen ankle, a serious fall, a skinned shin or two and an emergency appendectomy were some of our medical issues.

A week when the boys accomplished much: merit badges, advancement requirements, Totin' Chips, Fireman's Chips, 25 miles on a backpacking trip, the 50-miler award, several 20-miler awards, a climb to the summit of one of the Spanish Peaks for two of our guys and a "beginner's hike" that lasted 6 hours, covered 7.6 miles and ascended to an altitude of almost 8900 feet.

A week when good character shone:  big guys helping little guys, boy scouts respecting authority, no complaining about the peas that showed up at dinner three days in a row (cleverly hidden in raman noodles, tuna casserole and vegetable stew), diligence and perseverance as they hiked and climbed and attended classes daily.

A week of stories and legends--around the opening campfire, around the fire in our campsite and on the "Legends" hike.

A week that included some scary moments: the bear incidents, of course but also the startling appearance of a fawn who bolted of the woods, practically knockng us over before he dashed into the woods on the other side of the road, scary "animal" sounds at night (some of which were later determined to be of human origin), rodents nibbling on things under the tent platform and one who actually popped up his head between the floorboards. And not to forget the very scary time when one of our guys went home after dark to the wrong campsite.

A week when food was mostly a positive topic of conversation and a highly anticipated event. Bonds of friendship were forged over slices of bacon. And we all knew who we could count on to be at the front of the line for dinner and who would be first in line for seconds.

A week with an abundance of wildlife: pronghorn antelope, mule deer, hummingbirds, chipmunks rabbits and bears. And an abundance of Colorado wildfowers:  bluebells, columbine, queen anne's lace, daisies, clover and Russian thistles.

A week at camp where every day ended with cups of coffee (or cocoa) and our last day ended with a beautiful rendition of "Taps."


A week that will be forever in our hearts and memories.

Four Years Ago

Four years ago I was the mother of an enthusiastic Tiger Cub Scout.
Four years ago Monday nights were the highlight of his week.
Four years ago I volunteered to help our cub scout leader so we could continue meeting.
Four years ago the helper became the leader.
Four years ago I thought I would just finish out the school year until they could find someone else.
Four years ago it was a duty, an obligation so my son could go to the meetings he enjoyed so much.

Today it is a joy.

And I am still the mother of an enthusiastic Cub Scout.

Just a little nostalgic right now. Last night was the Arrow of Light ceremony for the oldest Cub in our den. Before the ceremony we worked on our last project together as The Three Musketeers. If I think about it very much, I just might cry. 


When I took on the challenge of leading little boys, I didn't think I would like it. I am more into arts and crafts than sports, more into sewing than leatherwork, more into reading than chemistry, more into Mozart than "Shark Attack."

I thought I enjoyed girl talk more than jokes about body chemistry. I thought girlish giggles topped fist pumps. I thought little girl hugs were sweeter than high fives.

But I was wrong.

In the last few years, I have learned to appreciate sports (a little bit, anyway), to let boys run and wrestle (preferably outdoors), and to laugh at their jokes (or at least smile).

I have learned not to get *too* mushy with them, although there are times when I just want to squeeze their little cheeks or grab them and give them a big hug. I have learned not to talk "at" them too much but to ask them questions and let them talk. I have learned that a snack at the end of the evening is pretty much a requirement.

I still roll my eyes at their corny jokes. I still flinch when they do a face plant on the floor. I still wonder how in the world they can eat that much. In short, I am still amazed at how different they are from little girls.

My little boys are turning into little men. Sometimes even little gentlemen. (I really like this part!) And they need to be with older guys. They need to see older Boy Scouts leading and learning. And they need to learn to lead.

And so, too soon, I will watch as the rest of "my" boys step into the ceremonial teepee, trade their blue uniform shirts for khaki uniform shirts and cross over into Boy Scouts.

...the least of these...

oh, my, the people...the people Jesus would call "the least of these." So many people, lined up and patiently waiting for the meal we would serve them. Quiet, hungry, needy...and respectful during the prayer. Hats taken off, heads were bowed, even a few "amens" were voiced.

As a group, they looked raggy, dirty, and cold... in a word, homeless. But as they started filing through the line, and came toward me, they became individuals...

My job was to hand out the chapstick. Chapstick is a much appreciated luxury. For those who spend long hours outside, chapstick protects lips from the elements. But I also learned it soothes chapped hands and relieves the pain of scrapes and cuts.

As I offered the chapstick, the "group" became "individuals": the middle aged man with the grizzled beard, the Hispanic man who couldn't speak English but gratefully accepted the chapstick, the man in the wheelchair, the college aged guy who had been on the street for awhile now, the middle-aged woman with the little boys, the old man in the overalls, the young woman with the "interesting" eye makeup, the tanned and wrinkled man with the pale blue eyes, and many, many more.

Some of the interactions lasted more than a few seconds when the serving line got a little congested or when someone was inclined to talk. I remember the obviously homeless man who told me he hadn't eaten in two days and wondered if it would be ok for him to have seconds and another homeless man who shared with me the wonders of chapstick. There was a young mother who was indignant at the behavior of a couple who nibbled at their food and exited the building, leaving their mostly full plates of food on the table. One man, probably in his thirties, noticed my scout uniform and mentioned he had been a boy scout when he was a teenager. I wanted to hug the cute little preschool girl whose eyes sparkled as I gave her a tube of chapstick.

Later in the evening, I still had some chapstick left, so I was wandering around, asking people if they wanted some more. Without fail, they told me I had already given them some. But when I said I had extras to give away, most were grateful to take another tube.

There were only a few children and they mostly seemed to be very subdued, even during the gift distribution. Except for one little girl, who was inclined to be chatty and very thrilled as she showed me her toy and the books she had been given.

I had a seriously scary moment when I noticed that the man in the wheelchair had dropped his hat on the floor and I went to pick it up and hand it back to him. He couldn't seem to take it from me and then his head dropped to his chest and I kinda freaked out and ran a few steps back to our scoutmaster to get some help. Within seconds, the church leader joined the group and bent over him. The guy lifted his head, and kinda just looked at us. I heard later that he told someone he had had a seizure.

The church had some clothes and shoes for the adults as well as some Christmas toys for the children. There weren't enough shoes and clothes for all, as the leader told the crowd, but they would give as the Lord provided. He told me later that the people get anxious in situations like this because they know there isn't enough for all but they need some of this stuff so desperately. They obeyed the rules, they stood patiently in line, they didn't complain. I was impressed, having witnessed some embarrassingly rude behavior earlier this week at Walmart.

There were some people who came up and thanked us for serving them and to them I answered earnestly and sincerely, "It was my privilege."

"Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink?" The King will answer and say, "Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me." Matthew 25:37,40

Indeed, it was my privilege to serve Him by serving the least of His brethren.

Love and a Tube of Chapstick

                                                                                                                     
                                                                                                                         December 16, 2010

Yesterday I fed the hungry. Well, I guess I feed the hungry on a daily basis at my house, so let me try again.

Yesterday evening I helped feed people who were really hungry. Several mentioned that this was the first food they'd had all day and another said he hadn't eaten in two days.

Some of these people came in right off the street while others probably came in their cars (and would be going back to sleep in them, too.) Some of them lived in the neighborhood or a nearby neighborhood. Some likely lived in shelters. Some may have needed a meal more than some of the others. But each one who came for a meal was an eternal soul.

Yesterday I was privileged to "feed Jesus" by helping to feed "the least of these." I went into the experience with a little trepidation as well as the conviction that I needed to love these people. My job was passing out chapstick, which is a real luxury to those who spend their days outside and on the street. My intent was to include a little love with each tube. I tried to make eye contact, smile, or maybe squeeze an arm or pat a hand. Some times I got a grateful smile or a verbal thank you. And sometimes I didn't. Either way it was okay.

I gazed into old eyes, sad eyes, bitter eyes, grateful eyes, apathetic eyes, weary eyes and even some very young eyes...and behind each pair of eyes was an eternal soul.

Yesterday we sought to meet the very real, pressing need for food and to plant a tiny seed of God's love. And to give them some chapstick.