When you think of summer, what comes to mind? Are there memories that bring a smile to your face? The older I get, the less tolerant I am of the summer heat; once it’s above 80 degrees there’s a serious possibility that I’ll resemble the Wicked Witch of the West. MELTING. But I definitely don’t let that keep me from enjoying the season. I can usually find a shade tree or a body of water somewhere.
Some of my favorite memories of summer can be found in looking back at Mahoning Valley Christian Camp. I was fortunate to grow up just down the road from the camp. In the eyes of a child, it almost seemed magical (of course many wouldn’t approve of the use of that word in this context). From the moment your parent filled out the registration card to the day you finally arrived at camp seemed like an eternity. We spent time contacting our friends to ensure everyone was attending the same week. We packed our bags well in advance. It was always going to be “the best week ever”.
Waking up on Sunday morning for church the excitement continued to build. Once church wrapped up (which probably seemed to also be the longest sermon ever preached), there was lunch. Again. Why did the time seem to drag so relentlessly? And then, finally. Bags in the car to make the two-minute drive down the road and around the corner.
As soon as we pulled onto the property there was a sense of awe. It all seemed larger than life. The trees waved to welcome us in all of their majesty. The thrill could practically be felt. Parents waited in long lines to check each camper in. Campers scrambled to the dorm praying they got there early enough to secure the preferred bunk location. (Appropriate proximity to the doors, windows, bathroom, and ceiling beams that mice ran on was of utmost importance.)
We meticulously put our bunk areas in place. The sheets and blankets (along with other decor) had to be just right as awards were given daily for “Best Bunk”. Fans were mounted in windows and every open floor area. Once we were content with the set-up it was time to venture out. No longer finding it necessary to be where our parents could see us, we gathered at the basketball courts, the tetherball circle, or any open picnic table. The best week ever was officially underway.
All I need to do is close my eyes and I can hear the sounds and see the vivid details all over again. And the smells. Oh, the fragrant aroma of sweltering dorms with bathing suits and towels that haven’t been hung up to dry. This is of course offset by everyone’s favorite scent of B&G for breakfast. But that only lasts for a brief period of time until a skunk is discovered under the faculty cabin.
Our days were filled with flag-raising, morning devotions, team time that included lessons from the theme for the week, games, pop shop, swimming, flashlight tag, campfires, and church every evening. When we were younger, the state-mandated one hour of rest was probably our least favorite part. Most of us grew up running or biking or working from sun up to sun down. We didn’t need any stupid nap. But by the time I got to high school, I think I actually enjoyed that little break.
Many of us found “love” for the first time on those sacred grounds. We were sent “around the dining hall” holding hands with that boy we’d been whispering about (embarrassing and amazing all at the same time). We might have even gotten our first kiss there (although faculty went to incredible lengths to prevent that).
Although human love is not to be diminished, a far greater love was found by many of us. I know that I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but that feeling was the presence of God. He was and is literally there in that place meeting us. With every activity tuned to God, we were made keenly aware of Him. Like I said, I couldn’t understand what was happening all those years ago. But looking back now it seems so abundantly clear. I was able to see God in everything. That’s why it was “the best week ever”.
From memorizing scripture to seeing the faculty cheer us on in whatever event was happening. From learning to pray in a group to singing on stage for talent night. From late night talks over the edge of the bunk to group discussions about controversial topics. God was using all of it to mold us and show us who He is. Nothing was wasted.
Obviously I have many other memories of summer. Long bike rides and playing in the creek. The front porch of Grandma and Grandpa’s house for root beer floats or walking the tracks to the corner store for a five-cent fountain drink. Visiting every farrowing barn multiple times every day and riding with Grandpa in the grain truck. Watching dad play baseball and softball; learning to play the game myself. Going to Brookville for a beach day with Aunt Kathy. So many priceless times. But nothing really compares to church camp. It’s where the foundation of my faith was first formed. It’s where God first showed me who He was. Those truly were “the best weeks ever”.
(My recollection is that this picture is from the first year that I worked the camp as faculty. My boys were both there with me, too.)
Luke 18:16 ~ Let the children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.