Summer and Fall in Oregon provides a virtual playground for those that love the outdoors. It provides a choice of Ocean beaches, mountains and rolling hills with vineyards doting the landscape. It’s all within a short drive.

But then comes a dilemma. The sun moves south in October, the sky turns grey, the days grow shorter and the rains that keep Oregon famously green set in.

For a long time.

What’s a person who loves the outdoors to do?

Many people look to the mountains for snow. Or hole up in a coastal motel and watch the whales. But what if setting in a motel room or sliding down a snowy hillside is not your thing? You need options that bridge the gap between rugged outdoor camper and motel creature comforts. I’ve found such place.

For the second time I’m staying at Camp Dakota. As I write this blog post I’m sitting at a small dining table, surrounded by music while my Jack Russell Terrier named Buddy sleeps near the wood stove enjoying a dog’s version of dreamland. All this in a cozy, well lighted, Yurt with over 300 square feet of space. This isn’t your typical Oregon State Park yurt. It nicely bridges the gap between camping and a motel. Just enough creature comforts without losing the rustic outdoor environment I love.

When evening comes I’ll take a break from my writing and fire up the four-burner gas bbq located on the deck just outside my door. I’m planning on steak for dinner but I’m not above a hot dog if the mood hits me. When it’s time to call it an evening I’ll crawl onto the blanket laying over the queen size mattress then pull my down sleeping bag over me.

Camp Dakota is my slice of heaven when I need to get away. The campground is owned by the John and Jenifer Winslow who started the camp from scratch. It taken time, money and a lot of work with the county zoning authorities who tend to assume that answer to “We would like to…” is no. But time an effort have resulted in not only a nice winter and spring getaway but a thriving summer campground full of activities that are not available at any other place that I’m aware of. You can read the full story of the campground here.

Suffice it to say there is a lot of passion and care of ownership at Camp Dakota. Customer service actually means something here.

After opening in 1998 with 10 campsites Camp Dakota grown to include the following:

50 total camp sites including,

2 full size TeePees

Three 20′ foot yurts (as described above)

Six 30′ yurts (almost 700′ sq ft with room for 10.)

Summer activities include:

Zip lines

A rope course

A Frisbee disc golf course

A huge, fully enclosed paint ballfield

I don’t have room to fully detail all the things available in Summer. This is best done by visiting the Camp Dakota website.

For the time being Camp Dakota will continue to be my winter and spring get away. The place I go to reflect, contemplate, plan and just plain old relax.

I generally keep a pot of water setting on the wood-stove for tea but today is different. Soon John, one of the Camp Dakota workers will arrive with a fresh load of wood and a steaming hot 4-shot mocha. Yeah, life is good!
.

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I suspect a lot of you are like me. You start your day thinking “Let’s see, today I have to….”

I’ve been trying another approach lately. Whenever I catch myself thinking that I have to do something, I rephrase it and I say “I get to…”

A little thing. But it can put a whole new perspective on anything.

I don’t have to go to work. I get to go to work. It is a blessing on many levels. The obvious one is that it brings an income. But I would go crazy if I wasn’t able to do something productive. Many people would love to have your job. Really, they would. And while co-workers can be irritating and frustrating I don’t have to put up with them. I get to smile and and say something pleasant. Who knows, it may bless them.

So, when I pay the ever increasing heating bill I tell myself I get to pay the heating bill. It means that I’m blessed to be able to live in a warm house.

Change a diaper? You are blessed with a child who thinks the world of you.

Fill the gas tank? You are blessed that you have transportation that only a small percentage of the world enjoys.

Tired of shopping, baking and preparing dinner for Christmas? You have a family who gets to be with you and who will be blessed by your efforts, even if it isn’t always apparent.

Know someone who doesn’t have family to share Christmas with? You get to invite them to share with your family, and in the process make them a temporary member.

Can’t handle the grumpy store clerk? You get the opportunity to smile, be pleasant and just maybe be one of the small bright spots in their day.

Many years ago while driving home from work a yellow jacket entered my car and stung me on the hand. The next day my hand started swelling. I debated whether I needed to see a doctor. Part of my thought process was having to pay for the visit when we didn’t have a lot of extra money laying around. As my hand continued to swell, I called and made an appointment for later that day.

My doctor examined my hand and after hearing my story told me I had a staff infection. Yellow jackets don’t always hang out in the most sanitary places. Before mentioning that I needed some antibiotics he casually mentioned that fifty years ago this was the kind of thing people died from.

What!

Yes, it true, we take antibiotics for granted now. My perspective changed quickly. I didn’t have to pay for a doctor visit and medicine. I got to pay a long forgotten amount for the best medical care and medicine available.

So, what is it that you get to do today? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

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What if? We have all had that thought before.

I recently had that thought cross my mind while attending two Teen Reach Adventure Camps. TRAC camps are specifically for abused and neglected teenage foster kids. Among the many activities are the ‘crosstalks,’ those times when the campers sit on wooden benches in front of a stage. After some music there is a story and discussion. This year’s story was about Joseph of the Old Testament.

People often refer to Joseph as “the dreamer.” I decided to do a little dreaming myself. I found myself wondering. What if.

What if Joseph had the opportunity to talk to these What might he say…

The campers were at rapt attention as the barely thirty-year old Joseph slowly walked the few steps to the wooden cross that was sitting on the stage. The three-foot tall cross was surrounded by smooth hand size stones.

The campers had previously selected, and then wrote on the stones, what it was they wanted God to help them overcome.

Joseph reached down and selected a stone. He read the writing, “My Pain and My Hurt.” He looked out over the faces of the attentive campers and slowly lowered his head as memories seemed to return.

After what seemed like a long silence Joseph looked up.

I know your hurt.

I know your pain.

Your hurt was my hurt. Your pain was my pain.

You see, most of my life I’ve been surrounded by those who hated me. Those who wanted to hurt me. I’ve often felt alone. Different.

My family was not unlike many of your families. I had 10 half brothers, born to three different mothers. And we all lived together. As you can imagine there was often conflict around my house. To make it worse, I was not only the youngest son, but also the only son of my Dad’s favorite wife. And everybody knew it. Most resented it.

When I was sent out with my brothers to work in our fields I was the invisible one. That was on the good days. On the bad days I was the one that was ridiculed and abused.

Threatened.

Thinking he was helping, my father made my situation worse. He gave me this really cool coat. You see, coats back then came in one color and one style. We wore what was practical for working with our herds of goats.

But my Dad was rather successful and so one day he surprised me with this special coat. It had many colors and I felt like royalty. That was, until I showed my brothers.

They laughed at me. Called me names like ‘daddy’s little baby.’ They joked about what they were going to do with me one day. Occasionally Rueben, the oldest, would step in and say ‘enough is enough. Let him be.’ But their distain was always just below the surface.

Their taunts would feel like cuts. At first the pain that followed would make me cry. But this only led to more verbal abuse. Anger didn’t help.

I learned to handle my pain the way some of you do. I shut off my emotions. I disappeared into my own world. I told myself it didn’t matter. In my pain I eventually learned to pray.

We worshiped the God of my great-grandpa Abraham. When I felt alone I would pray to God.

Soon after, the dreams came. They were so vivid. So real. I knew they were not just my imagination!

I was excited, so I shared one of the dreams with my brothers. I told them how we were in the field harvesting the grain when suddenly my sheave of grain stood up while my brothers sheaves bowed down before mine.

My excitement got the better of me. I knew as soon as I shared that it was a mistake. I’ve learned that when we are young we don’t always think things through the way we should. It only resulted in them hating me even more.

Later I told my Dad how, in my dream, the sun, moon and 11 stars bowed down before me. It was one of the few times Dad got angry with me.

My bothers came to hate me even more. I didn’t even realize that was possible. It was not the kind of ‘I hate you’ that people banter about today. They hated me so much that when I went many miles to check on them and the herds for Dad that they decided they wanted to kill me.

At first they threw me in a deep well and were going to leave me there to die. But they saw some Ishmalites and instead sold me to them for 20 pieces of silver. They took my special coat and laughed as they said they were going to soak it in blood and tell Dad that an animal ate me.

It would be many years before I ever saw my dad again. I was sent to a strange land. God blessed me and I eventually became the highest ranking official in the greatest county of that time, Egypt. I was second in command, only below Pharaoh himself!

For the longest time, even with all my success, I would still feel the pain; the aloneness. Night time was the worse.

Several years before I was thrown in jail for something I didn’t do. My accuser kept referring to me as “That Hebrew! That Hebrew you brought here.” Yes, I was still the odd one out. The one who was different and didn’t fit. That “Hebrew.”

At night I would try to ignore the pain of both my past and my present. I would pray to God and he would help me. In fact God helped me to forget the bad times when I lived with my mixed up family. And he gave me success in my new country; even though I knew I was still an outsider; “The Hebrew”, not “the Egyptian.” But God heard my prayers and continued to heal my pain.

To celebrate what God had done for me I named my two sons Manasseh and Ephraim. Back in those days we chose names that had special meaning. Manasseh means ‘God has made me forget all my trouble with my fathers family.’ Ephraim means ‘God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.’

I know some of you have been abandoned. Some hurt by strangers. Some hurt by family. Many of you feel alone. Different. Always out of place.

I know your hurt.

I know your pain.

And here is what I have learned. Pray to God. He never changes. He always hears.

I was able to forgive my brothers. Yes, they eventually bowed down to me when they came to Egypt needing food. But God had taught me to be humble, not to seek revenge. In spite of all that they had done to me I couldn’t wait to hug them and welcome them back. My little brother Benjamin had grown up into a fine young man. It was good for us to be together again.

Most importantly, God had shown me that all those bad things had happened to me for a purpose. I was able to save my family from starvation. My dad and brothers were able to move to Egypt and we were reunited.

What my brothers intended for harm, God intended for good. That’s just the way he is.

 

I read today that Mark Hatfield had passed away at the age of 89.

In a previous blog about what would have been the 99th birthday of Ronald Reagan, I wrote the the following about my single personal encounter with Mark Hatfield.

There have been times during my career where I have had the opportunity to spend time with Senators, Congressmen and Governors. It is pretty common for most politicians to be aloof, detached and even condescending. Others have a rather phony sincerity that, at least for me, is pretty easy to detect. I’ve always suspected that this is because they are not comfortable with who they are.

In my personal experience there was one exception; Mark Hatfield.

At the time I met the Senator, he was the chairman of the U.S. Senate Appropriations Committee. He was one of the 5 most powerful people in the U.S. Government and this was reflected in the office he occupied in Washington.

Several of us had arrived for a meeting and were waiting in the his conference room with a staff member. Senator Hatfield entered the room before his remaining staff arrived; very unusual in its own right. He apparently noticed that I had been looking over some documents hanging on the wall at the time he entered the room. After formal introductions were finished he took me over to tell me more about items on display all the while asking about my family and upbringing.

I had been intrigued by the bust of Herbert Hoover and the documents with his signature on them. My history wasn’t great but I did know that Hoover was often blamed as the President that led the country into the Great Depression of the 1930′s.

The Senator explained that he admired President Hoovers agenda known as the Children’s Charter. The Charter focused on providing protections for all children, regardless of race or gender. After what was maybe all of 90 seconds we returned to the conference table. Like Reagan, it was a sincere everyman’s moment. Almost 25 years later I find myself wishing we had more leaders like Mark Hatfield and Ronald Reagan. We would be a better nation for it.

Hatfield’s political views didn’t fit in any standard platform and were frustrating to many. Christianity Today in 1982 wrote of him,

What makes Sen. Mark Hatfield so different? Newsmen and radio commentators find it difficult to place him in a neat pigeonhole. As the New York Times puts it: “Mr. Hatfield does not fit the mold.” He is a Republican, but is known as a liberal in politics. He is against nuclear war, but he is not a pacifist. He supports all sorts of programs to aid the poor, but he is a diehard fiscal conservative. He is a friend of Billy Graham, and he cosponsors a resolution with Sen. Edward Kennedy. He has never been a “wheel” of the Senate’s power structure, but he has become chairman of the powerful Appropriations Committee. He antagonizes his Oregon constituency by voting flatly against a measure 90 percent of them badly want, and they turn right around and reelect him to office. He is a devout evangelical and an active member of Georgetown Baptist Church, but no fundamentalist or evangelical organization has him in its pocket.

What makes that kind of man? We believe this interview will reveal his secret: it is his deep commitment to Jesus Christ and a conscience structured and refined by Holy Scripture as his own final rule of faith and practice.

You can read the full interview here.

I first came across the fact that Senator Hatfield was a christian when reading his forward to a book written by Charles Swindoll called “Killing Giants, Pulling Thorns.”

… As every reader of Christian devotional literature knows, suffering cannot be explained away.. nor can fear, bitterness, lust jealousy, and other “giants” that stand against the work of the Holy Spirit in us. But the painful reminders of our humanity can be surrounded by a framework for understanding and resources for growth and faithfulness. Charles Swindoll’s Killing Giants, Pulling Thorns helps to fill that need for me and many of my friends…”

It’s hard to imagine any of today’s politicians writing such a forward to a christian book.

Hatfield had a couple of scandals in which he denied wrongdoing. One of these received a reprimand from the Senate ethics committee.

After retiring from the Senate, rather then joining one of the many firms that would have allowed him to enrich himself as a lobbyist, Hatfield returned to teaching, joining the faculty of George Fox College.  He served as the Herbert Hoover Emeritus Distinguished Professor of Politics at the school.

You might also like The Essence of Ronald Reagan

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“Once I started reading, I learned the person who has the most to do with what happens to you, is you.” ~ Ben Carson

I recently listened to an interview with Ben Carson. A world renowned neurosurgeon who was raised by a single mother in inter-city Detroit. His interview below reinforces my belief in the importance of reading to radically change you and your child’s life. I give you three ways this happens below.

One of the fondest memories of my youth was jumping on my bike on a warm summer day and riding down to the city library. We didn’t have small backpacks back then so the number of books I could check out was a function of how many books I could carry in one arm while using the other arm to steer my bike.

In hindsight it is no coincidence that there was a transformation in my reports cards. A few years ago my mom handed me an large envelope that contained all my old school photos. Also included were my grade school report cards. My earliest report cards are sprinkled with comments like “Talks too much in class.” “Needs to improve focus” which is a polite way to says I goofed off a lot. There were also several subjects checked “Needs Improvement.”

But around 4th grade things began to change. From 5th grade on I was constantly near the top of my class. This coincides with the period where I developed a love of reading. I soon realized that I knew more than the other kids, not so much because I was inherently smarter. But because of my reading I knew things that they didn’t. And it changed my outlook.

Here are three ways reading can positively affect the life of your children:

• Between 70-80% of high school dropouts are functionally illiterate. By removing this obstacle early in the process you greatly increase your child’s opportunity for academic success.
• It will positively change your child’s view of themselves. Ken Carson put it best, “When I was stupid, I acted like I was stupid.. as I learned more I realized it made me more valuable.”
• It will change their outlook on life. At some point I came to believe, and still do, that you can learn anything by reading. Ken Carson expresses the same idea by saying “Because of the reading, I begin to see that the person who has the most to do with what happens to you, is you.”

Among other things, I’ve always been drawn to biographies. They are often inspiring. Ben Carson talks about the inspiration he received by reading about Booker T. Washington. A black man who found a way to learn to read despite the fact it was illegal for blacks to read that time. He later went on to act as an adviser to two US Presidents.

Take a few minutes to listen to the interview below and reconsider the role of reading in your life and that of your children.

Backstage Interview – Ben Carson from GiANT Impact on Vimeo.

Did you read growing up? What methods have you tried to encourage your kids to read?

You might also like Children: Equipping them for Success

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How do you equip a child for success in today’s world?

Being a good student and working are no longer enough. For decades our schools have taught children to be compliant. Use a #2 pencil. Score well on tests. March single file. Yet the unemployment rate for college graduates hasn’t been this high since 1970. What should be your strategy?

I’ve been concerned for some time about what future opportunities will be available for our youngest generation. If you are a parent you probably have these same concerns. One thing is apparent to me; the world we grew up in is rapidly changing. Products that were once manufactured are now either made by machines or built by cheap labor in another county.

What is a parent to do? As a parent, now more than ever, you need to take control of your child’s education.

I have four recommendations.

Encourage Creativity — Seth Godin makes the case in his book Linchpin that people who can find creative solutions to problems are the ones who will find success. I agree. I was always a very good student, but when I look back now I realize that the successes I’ve experienced, have often had their basis in my creative side. My strengths were always in the math and sciences. I assumed that creativity was for those with talent in the arts. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

When Edison imagined the light bulb he was using his creativity.

When the American space program stalled over the belief, based on failed efforts in space, that man could not work in a weightless environment it was Buzz Aldrin who imagined that it must be similar to working underwater. He was put in charge at NASA and after thousands of hours of underwater experiments the techniques for working in space were developed. These techniques are still in use.

in both cases the technical skills of each man would have been worthless with out the creativity that allowed them to bring to mind things that are not present. Kids have incredible capacity for imagination. Creativity comes from acting out on that imagination. Find ways to encourage it in your kids.

If you have toddlers, many toys now have a few preprogramed options. Think Buzz Lightyear. This does nothing to develop creativity. However, let a kid use his imagination with things like tinker toys, blocks of wood, a fisher price xylophone and etch a sketch and watch their creativity soar.

Teach History — Not the boring kind of history where you memorize facts. Knowing the state capital of all 50 states is pretty worthless in the age of Google. Instead focus on the “why” of history. My son and I had a recent discussion regarding slavery in America. The so called facts of slavery propagated today in many cases have no basis in reality. We explored some of the actual reasons things happened as they did. We both learned some new things.

I recently watched a series on Netflix called America: The Story of Us . It has 12 episodes and covers American history from Jamestown to current times. I like that it showcases the people, many you have probably never heard of, who had a great impact on history because of their creativity and willingness to take risk. If you watch this, you will understand how we came to the term American exceptionalism. I highly recommend it for anyone from 5th grade through adults.

Reading — Development of creativity and an understanding of history are a foundation. Reading will give you the tools to build a great life. My success would be greatly diminished were in not for my effort to learn through reading. I can’t emphasis this enough. If your kids are spending more time watching music videos than they are reading you are not doing them any favors. I have always believed that through reading there is nothing that you cannot learn. I look forward to writing more about this in a later post.

You may have noticed that I have not included writing in my list of suggestions. There is a reason. If you read a lot you will naturally develop writing skills by osmosis. If you read a lot you will naturally learn the rhythms and patterns of good writing. Most people look at me funny when I tell them I can’t even begin to diagram a sentence. It just never clicked for me. But I naturally knew what worked properly and what didn’t. it got me though college level courses in technical report writing. I’m not implying you ignore it.

Math – Let me say that you do not need to be a rocket scientist to do well in life. But you do need to understand finances. The most important rule of finance; “The borrower is slave to the lender” Proverbs 22:7. If you don’t learn this quickly you may dig a hole so deep you will never have the chance to soar.

Secondly, if you are in college, take a course in Statistics and Probability. Your chances of being scammed later in life will go down at least ten fold. I’m still shocked at the things people fall for that they would never be tempted by if they had a basic understanding of Statistics and Probability.

I’m also a big fan of visual story problems with younger kids. Anything that helps to visualize numbers will make math easier.

So there are four ideas. What are yours? What are you doing to equip your children for success? What do wish you had done differently?

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“O Lord our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.

When I consider thy heavens the work of the your fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast created. What is man that thou are mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visits him?”  Psalm 8: 1, 3-4

Standing on the ships balcony I was struck last night, and this morning, by not only the beauty, but also the vastness of God’s creation. During the night, listening to the ocean water rush by, I looked out from our deck at the stars and contemplated the seeming closeness of the constellation Orion. How something so far away, something so vast, could seem so close. We measure the distance to stars in light years. 10s, 100s, and even thousands.  Yet we have little regard, or comprehension, of just how far such a distance is. Light can travel around the earth 8 times in just one second. Can we realistically comprehend how far it can travel in one hundred years?

Then I look across the beauty of the ocean as I pass over it’s deep blue waters. And like the psalmist I’m humbled; not only by the beauty of God’s creation, but by the vastness of His creation. Why does he care about man? And more specifically, why does he care about me? Yet at this moment I feel His presence. The small voice that says “see, my creation near and far? How much more I care for you; I created you in my image. Walk with me and know me and I will reveal myself to you.” And that is what I chose to do; it’s what I desire.  To know the God who, in the vastness of eternity, takes the time to look down and speak to my heart. And as I again look across the deep blue ocean to the distant horizon I’m, at the same time, both encouraged and humbled.

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For three years I’ve had the pleasure of serving at TRAC camp, a camp for teenage foster kids who come from abused and neglected backgrounds. Below are  my observations from last years camp — Part Two.  You can find Part One here.

TRAC Camp – FRIDAY — Excited whoops echoed along with the sound of crashing metal.  Another camper has just taken down a pyramid of cans using a sling shot.  While the cans are stacked up again the noise dies down and the steady click, click-click, click. click-click-click, of an air hockey game fills the momentary quiet. Behind the noise and games, in the light of the activity center, a stack of homemade water rockets line the tables; two more are in the construction phase.  Lift-off off is scheduled for tomorrow evening.

It is a happy atmosphere. All of the 16 campers are thoroughly enjoying themselves. The first day of camp is winding down to a close.

It wasn’t always  like this…

7:45 a.m. – The late risers pull themselves out of  bed to start this first day of camp.  The early-birds on staff are already on their second cup of coffee. The campers, still back in town, are completing their registration process.

As 8:30 arrives, the campers leave town while out at camp the counselors and staff wait along the entrance with poster-board signs full of stars, lightening blots, and most importantly, each camper’s name.  It’s an unusually long wait this year and after thirty minutes of restless loitering the inevitable jokes are tossed about.  Finally a heads-up comes over the walkie talkie and soon two white vans approach the drive way.  Adults raise their signs and cheer as the vans slowly drive by.  But there is not a single smile from inside the vans.  This may be the moment of maximum stress for the campers.

Foster kids in general have a difficult time with summer camps.  It is not uncommon for kids to arrive at TRAC camp having never successfully made it through a summer camp from start to finish.  And the thought of attending yet another camp full of strangers certainly must weigh on their minds.

As the vans roll to a stop, the campers pile out, glad to be out of the confined van full of strangers.  They look for the sign with their name on it and counselors and campers proceed to make introductions as they size each other up.  The counselors must not seem too scary as a few tentative smiles start to appear on the faces of the campers.  Some who have attended before recognize familiar faces and come over to say hi.  Soon the empty vans are left behind and the small crowd of adults and teens slowly moves down the winding path. As the reach the bottom they approach three long rows of seats.  Seats facing a stage full of musicians playing drums, keyboards, a guitar and a bass.  The back row quickly fills up and the last few campers look around and seeing no more seats in the back, settle for a seat near the far end of the second row.

After some mostly silent observation the last song comes to an end.  Gary welcomes the campers and explains the few rules that need to be followed.  The rules are explained with the fingers of the hand.  Safely, commitment to each other, respect, loyalty and fun.  Waving his hand with thumb and little finger extended Gary explains that more than anything they want the campers to be safe and have fun!  The kids give a positive reaction.

Terresa leads the Crosstalk session.  A time of sharing, interactive teaching and encouragement.  She explains that the campers will be learning about David and Goliath and that we all have giants in our life.  Giants they can learn to conquer in their own life as she and others have.  The kids, previously restless, are now fully attentive.

Crosstalk breaks and the campers head back with their counselors for some small group time.  There,  questions are designed to encourage discussion about the just finished Crosstalk presentation.  But as in camps past, the campers skillfully keep the discussion to a superficial level.  Understandably they are reluctant; trust has not yet been established.  This will come later.

Lunch, activities and and afternoon swim go a long way towards helping the campers forget whatever fears of camp they carried when they stepped off the van  earlier that morning.  After dinner there is more music and a well received Crosstalk.  The campers are now being drawn into the Cross Talk sessions; there are now more campers sitting on the second row then on the third row. Afterward the campers are ready for  evening activities.

As the day winds down, the sounds of laughter, falling metal cans,  air hockey and whoops of joy fill the air…

To learn more about TRAC, click here.

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We slowly peeled off the layers of the gift I received on our 26th anniversary.  First the elastic band, the gauze wrapping, then what seemed like a dozen layers of square gauze patches.  Finally, the last piece came off; a 5” strip of medical tape covering a row of stitches.

It was our first look at the anniversary gift from my surgeon; an early morning 4 inch incision on my ankle.  I won’t bore you with the gruesome details.  Long incisions are generally best kept to yourself, and in this case, my wife.

Now that all the layers of wrapping were finally removed we took a closer look.  I know for myself, and I’m sure for Cheryl, we both returned to thoughts of the first time we had been through this together during the Christmas season of 2007.  It was quite sobering back then; this time it was a less invasive surgery and was more of a curiosity.

Saturday in August 11, 1984.  It was our wedding day and what I most remember was all the crazy activity.  My sister was checking flowers and the wedding cake she had made for us.  My other sister was helping to make sure all the final details were in place.  My brother, also my best man, was making sure I had what I needed and arranging the get-away car for later. I knew, and occasionally saw glimpses of, untold other people doing their thing to make sure everything came together at two o’clock.  It was a joyous celebration.  I remember the moments with my brother just before the start of the ceremony, the look on Cheryl’s face as she came down the aisle with her father.  The packed out reception afterward and the efforts to try and make sure I was able to say “hello” and “thanks for coming” to all the guests.

After a honeymoon on the coast, my next recollection is standing by a small cafe along Hwy 20, my friend stopping in his van as we coordinated family and friends who were helping us move to a new life on the Oregon coast…

I pointed at the gash in the side of my ankle. “Gosh, look at that sewing detail in those stitches.”  Cheryl looked closer and said, “I wonder if Dr. Coen hems the pants in his house; a real shame if he doesn’t.”  Using the expertise we obtained from my more serious injury several years ago, we set about cleaning around the incision, covering it with the proper sterile pads, wrapping it with stretchy tape and then the elastic ace bandage. As I finished up, Cheryl was well on her way to cleaning up the rest of the mess and we were ready to head, or in my case hobble, downstairs.

Last year marked our 25th anniversary and we celebrated by going out for a very nice 3 hour Italian dinner.  A splurge that we rarely indulge in.  It was fun to reminisce.  I don’t recall that we even discussed our wedding.  I’ve noticed something about weddings.  They are a bit like the movie previews you see months before the movie is set to release, often before the movie is even completed…

These previews, all over TV and the internet, get passed along on Facebook and by email.  They are used to hype the real movie.  But once the movie opens no one ever goes back to watch the preview anymore.  If you want to look like a dork, post the trailer to a blockbuster a week after the whole world has seen the movie.

I’ve also noticed that previews are cut and edited in such a way that they often bear little resemblance to the movie you see.  They are designed to create hype and excitement. I guess the obvious lesson is not to get so wrapped up in the movie previews.  In the same way it makes sense to not get so wrapped up in the wedding. Eventually no one will remember all that much about it anyway…

Later that evening I lay in bed, elevating my ankle like a good patient when Cheryl arrived with meatloaf and potatoes.  This was the meal that I requested and seemed to fill the “bland” food suggestion contained in my post surgery instructions.

I was still buzzed from the ultra-strength pain pills so Cheryl was going to leave and let me rest some more.  Ah, not so fast!

“Hey,” I said “You can’t go, we have to share our anniversary dinner.”  As expected, I got a big laugh and a smile.  She climbed up on the bed and we chatted about last years meal and other nice anniversaries of the past.  But when it was said and done, we decided this was the best yet.

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For three years I’ve had the pleasure of serving at TRAC camp, a camp for teenage foster kids who come from abused and neglected backgrounds. Below is part one of observations of this years camp.

Thursday — It’s been a warm day and as 6:00 comes, and then goes, people are slowly rolling in. It is the evening before another TRAC camp. A camp designed for teen foster kids that come from abused and neglected backgrounds.

The kids will arrive Friday morning but Thursday evening is prep time for the counselors and support staff that will serve these kids until late Sunday afternoon.

Strolling around camp I have the chance to visit with people I’ve worked with for several years. The new camp improvements are obvious and welcome. A new 3rd cabin is in place that will allow another six campers. A new moderately sized air hockey game sits outside the activity center. Quilt blocks decorated by campers in past camps hang from the front of the activity center. Blocks with pictures and words such as “Be safe, have fun” and “ELE – everyone love everyone”

The campers will have opportunities to earn necklace beads as well as tickets that can be spent at the newly expanded store next to the activity center. During the girls camp the previous weekend the jawbreakers proved to be the popular item. Jeremy and Alexis have set up the store with a variety of items sure to attract the attention of the campers.

A shower trailer, three cabins, a stage for the camp band and sessions known as Cross Talk stand empty, for one final evening. Tomorrow they will be the hubs of activity for 16 teenage boys and 20 plus counselors and support staff. The stage, trailers, cabins, and challenge course are a testament to the dedication of those who believe in the power a weekend. A weekend focused on sharing the love of God with kids whose background include neglect and abuse; physical, sexual and emotional. The burdens of abandonment have, in many cases, followed these kids for most, or even all, of their young lives. TRAC camp is a chance to create an environment where they are wanted and valued, just for who they are.

The staff and volunteers come from all backgrounds. Moms and Dads, young people, newly marrieds. Some come from abusive backgrounds of their own and have learned to be conquerors. They see camp as the chance to give back to those that suffer in ways that they themselves have experienced.

Eventually everyone arrives and dinner is served at five of the six tables that will be used by campers and staff starting with lunch the next day. The talk is light. Old friends catch up and new acquaintances are made. Some have been serving in the same capacity for years. Others are getting their feet wet; curious to see if there is a bigger role for them. Kim is one such person. He started by serving as a handyman and laborer for camp projects and now finds himself only hours away from serving as a counselor to his first two teen campers.

Conversation continues while dinner is served. It has been a warm day and at last there is a hint of coolness moving up from the creek below through the giant cottonwood and fir trees that fill the camp. Announcements are made and afterward everyone makes their way down to the wooden benches surrounding the stage below. It is a serene and quiet setting. A few bugs are out but the dreaded mosquitoes have seemed to stay home for the night.

The setting is special. Old hymns mixed with new worship songs float over the now cool air. The giant trees seem to stand guard as the sun slowly retreats towards the horizon. The cool air from the swimming hole now flows through the area like an invisible fog and the sound and solitude that attends the sound of voices, piano and guitar seem to perfectly create what the studio produced worship albums seek to replicate.

The camp theme will be the story of David and Goliath. There are a lot of Davids tonight. Everyone present understands that on their own they are inadequate. The kids that arrive tomorrow morning move, on average, from one foster home to the next every 16 months. Some have parents in prison; some have no idea who their parents are. Others wonder what is wrong with them at their parents just didn’t seem to care. And tomorrow they come to a camp where they are told the people care for them. That’s a tough sell. And every one here knows that. So like David these adults will put aside their own inadequacies and run to the fight. Proceeding only in the knowledge and confidence that, as in David’s words, “the battle is the Lord’s to win.”

To learn more about TRAC, click here. To read Part Two click here.

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