Going Home..... well one of the homes

The first time I went to Camp....

 Have you ever noticed that there are some places that are always home? A place that, as soon as you arrive something just feels right?

For me one of those places is Camp Maskepetoon, along the north shore of Pigeon Lake. I went as a camper three time as a child and enjoyed myself greatly. I still have some very clear memories of wide games, of sleeping at outback, of the ghost story The Claw (which we were told the night before going to sleep at outback in 1980--probably not the best timing). I remember a talent show in 1981. I remember campfire singing (where I first learned to sing with glee about the sinking of the Titanic) and telling stories and jokes when we were probably supposed to be singing. We had great times.

Then 8 years later, in my second year of university, I was looking for a summer job. As an Education student I was looking for something that might be slightly career oriented. In the job centre in the Student Union Building was a listing for staff positions at Camp Maskepetoon and I thought it sounded good so I applied to be the Devotions Director. I got an interview (and can still name the three people who interviewed me 37 years later) and was offered the position.

Realistically, I had no idea what I was doing. I certainly had no idea that my  life was about to be changed. It was just a summer job....right?

Cooking at camp
can be...different

I had a great summer. I went back the next year in the same job. Then ended up going back to work in the kitchen for a third summer at camp. Took a few years off, working summer jobs at a golf course clubhouse (which was great, good people but not the same). Then I needed something for another summer and applied to work in the kitchen again. Did that for 2 years.

Then was asked to be on the Board, which I did for three years before going off to finish my degree and start my career. While on the Board I helped hire three sets of staff. And because I had three days or four days off in a row every week (one of the blessings of shift work) I spent LOTS of time out at the lake visiting, singing, and helping with whatever needed to be done.

Camp changed me. Camp changed my life direction. If it hadn't been for those first 2 summers I might not have started to feel called to ministry. But it was more than that.

I made friends at that place. Friends that I have not seen for years but in June when we all gathered for a reunion the connection was still there. I grew spiritually at that place. Eveneings standing on the beach staring at the lake and the sky, nights at outback sitting around the fire, the (sort of) stillness of sitting in one of many canoes as the whole camp group canoes across the  lake. Times that opened my heart and soul.

These were times of laughter. Times of hijinks == the time we hung a bunk in a tree, or the day in 1999 when I came out of the cabin to find that my car (which I had foolishly left the keys in) had been moved to the middle of the cabin area and mummified in saran wrap. There were games played, hiding in the bush, chasing each other around the sports field. It was a place where we were invited to be free to be who we really were. In a time of my life where I had few places where I felt really comfortable Camp stands out as that place. At camp I was free to make a fool of myself (arguably something that came naturally). Before camp I would never have seen myself leading campfire songs.

I would never have thought I might offer the first car I ever owned up for redecoration.

Many years later I moved back to Alberta. My daughters became old enough to go as campers. I convinced them to give it a try -- which was an easy sell as they had experienced church camping before -- and every year as we turned into the driveway to drop them off my heart sang. We always got there early enough to have time to walk around the site before leaving however many of them were staying that week/ I wanted, no needed, to walk around this sacred place, to sit on the campfire benches, to walk down to the chapel. Just to be there for that 45 minutes gave me some renewal.

ANd it worked again. this summer two daughters are on staff (one for the 4th summer) and one is volunteering. For some of us camp seeps into your bones and draws you back.

At the reunion for the 70th anniversary last month I was asked to say a few words about what camp meant to me. The first word that came to my mind was HOME. Wherever I go that place will go with me. Later this summer I am going to spend a week as Camp Dad and general helper. I look forward to seeing what a week at camp looks like now and how it is both the same and different as when I spent all those days there long ago.

If you get a chance to experience church camp ministry TAKE IT. Just be aware that it might affect you more than you expected.

Teachers I have known...

Appaently this week in Teacher Appreciation Week in the USA (according to the National PTA anyway) and indeed today is the NEA National Teacher Day.

Maybe that is why the Jeopardy Teacher Tournament began this week...

At any rate I thought I would honour some notable teachers (in school and out of school) I have had in my life:
Mr. Davies -- my Grade 4 homeroom teacher, he taught me Language Arts that year (and possibly math and science?) I remember a few things. 1) he was sure he could get my handwriting to be legible--so I spent much time doing spirals and other exercises designed to improve my fine motor control (didn't work); 2) he played guitar and periodically (every week?) we would have a time of singing in class even though I am sure he was not our "official" music teacher -- I still have in  a drawer downstairs the songbook we used; 3) every Friday, for the first 30-45 minutes after lunch, he read to us. The first book he read was The Hobbit -- which started my life long love of the Middle-Earth, another one was The Voyage of the Dawn Treader - which introduced me to Narnia.

Mrs Titus and Mrs. Kane -- Grade 5 and Grade 6 respectively. I am sure I drove them mad by the amount (or lack thereof) of effort I put in to class work. however they are introduced me to the stage, which became a path of sustenance for my safety in later years. Also, despite the actual marks I was getting (see lack of effort comment above) they were willing to put me in an enrichment program [I suspect their hope was that this would spur me on to work harder -- did not work, the solution to that came years later]

Jane Chobotar -- Sunday School teacher. Jane was the Department lead for the Grade 4-6 Department when I was in grade 6. She had the Grade 6 students actively helping in special projects (I remember 2 or 3 of us spent an afternoon in McDonald's planning something or other) Years later, when I was in High School Jane was still heading that section of the Sunday School program (she was doing that for 20+ years when she eventually stepped down) and invited me to be a teacher. She is one of the reasons I ended up in ministry, and so I asked her to lay hands on me at my ordination.

Miss Sobat -- Grade 9 Language Arts. Gail changed my work habits, and by doing so changed my life direction.  I have written specifically about her here before

Will Smallacombe -- I first met Will when he came in to help the Diaconal Minister who was teaching out Confirmation class. He was the leader of the High School Youth group for most of my time in High School. Will helped us explore what it meant to be teenagers in a faith community, and made sure we had fun doing it.

Maralyn Ryan -- Maralyn was responsible (or at least largely responsible) for starting the program that was a large bright spot in some otherwise dark years of my life -- St. Albert Children's Theatre and the Arts Renaissance Troupe. It was a safe place for me. It was a place for expression. It was a place for building friends. If I recall correctly, ARTS particularly grew out of the Leadership development arm of Community Services in that era.  Thinking of some of the people who were there with me--I think it worked.

Blaine Gregg -- pretty much anything I know about being a good camp leader I learned from Blaine. Watching him was a schooling in and of itself. 

Book 13 of 2014 -- Peter Pan

During the summer the oldest girls and I have established a pattern.  Each night before bed I read them a chapter of a book.  This summer we started with The Hobbit which conveniently we finished just before going away on holidays (and the girls enjoyed it far more than they thought they would).  At that point they started asking what I would read when we got home.

I knew it needed to be something I could get finished by the end of August because we have learned that once school starts there is too much happening to have these reading sessions.  So I started checking what I had available.  As it happens I had picked up a free e-book copy of Peter Pan a couple of years ago to have something the girls could read on the Kobo should they want to.  I counted chapters and days and realized this would fit into the available time.  Accordingly in the middle of August we began to read it and finished it on Sunday night.

Strange as it may seem I had never read the full book of Peter Pan before.  I had seen the Disney movie of course.  I had listened to a record telling of the story based on the Disney movie (complete with songs of course) when I was young.  I had read an abridged version for early readers.  And I have seen 2 different stage versions.  But I had never read the full novel.  Until last month.

The story of course is known.  The story is pretty much the same in all versions.  Even Disney stayed pretty close to this one.

But I was not ready for the implicit violence and the acceptance of same than Barrie includes in his text.  Bloodletting happens with little or no concern or anguish.

Nor was I ready for the explicit racial stereotyping.  Maybe that is a sign of how long it has been since I read/watched the story (because now that I think of it the Disney movie included some pretty racist stereotypes in it too -- like the song "What Makes the Red Man Red") but the treatment of the "redskins" in the novel is terrible.  I know it is a product of an era that is long past but still it did come to the point where I had to talk about stereotypes to the girls as we were reading.

Peter Pan is an interesting story.  Pure escapism on the surface.  And yet I wonder if there is something more there that could be explored.  What does it mean to grow up?  What does it meant to live in "Neverland"?   ANd why do we forget?

#RAllyRevGals Post Number 2...

Over at RGBP Marthahas challenged ring members to "write a blog post about a woman who has been a positive influence on your ministry (whether or not she is/was a pastor),"

I have two women to write about.  So here is #2:

May also served my home congregation at one point in time.  But while that fact touches on this story, it is not the basis of the story, not the time she had the most impact on me.

After my first internship crashed 20 years ago (on this day 20 years ago I was getting ready to move to Edson for it) I took a break from studies of 4 years.  One of those years I did a unit of CPE, which would later count as 2 course credits when I went to finish my MDiv.

May was my CPE supervisor.

During the CPE entrance interview we talked openly about the fact that we had a past history.  She had served in my home congregation when I was 11 or 12, my father had been on the M&P committee at the time, and her pastoral relationship with the congregation had not ended well.  We talked about if this past made it a good idea or a bad idea for her to be my supervisor.  As she was at the time a provisional supervisor I can only assume she also had that discussion with her supervisor as well.

I think it was a good thing.  More about that in a moment.

CPE was a challenge for me, as Pastoral Care was (and is) a challenge for my ministry gifts.  And at that point I still had a LOT of personal work to do before I would be ready for ministry.  I had little self-confidence, little sense that I had much to offer.  I was uncomfortable with emotional discussion.  So yeah, CPE was a challenge for me.  I was blessed with a good group who were supportively challenging.  And May was an excellent supervisor, both in the group discussions and in the one-on-one.  She helped start me on a path that would lead to seeing a counselor and doing a whole lot of healing and growth.  And I think that she was best able to do that because she knew a different me.

Quite frequently in our discussions May would look at me and say "that isn't who you are, isn't who you used to be, what happened".  She was able to remind me of what had been true before the worst years of school bullying had changed me.  In retrospect I think others had seen signs of it, had tried to draw me beyond the image I had taken on of myself.  But May could provide her own testimony of who she knew me as.  And that had more impact.  I also think that because I knew more of her story, including parts she omitted when she told her story to the group (and called her on when we met one-on-one the next time) it was easier for me to be open with her than it wold have with another supervisor.

CPE was not a magic bullet.  After that I still ended up going to a counselor (on the advice/instruction of my Presbytery E&S Committee) for a couple of years.  But it started me on the road to health.  And May was a big part of that.

Sadly May is no longer living.  Rest in Peace.

#RallyRevGals Post Number 1....

Over at RGBP Marthahas challenged ring members to "write a blog post about a woman who has been a positive influence on your ministry (whether or not she is/was a pastor),"
I have two women to write about.  So here is #1:

It was a woman who first suggested I go into ministry.

Barb came to serve my home congregation when I was in high school, grade 11 I believe.  One of her main roles was support for the Christian Education activities and that is how I got to know her.  She also led an adult Bible Study but I was not heavily involved in that group until after she had moved on (though I heard reports of some of their discussions).  But as part of an active family in the church I got to talk with her relatively often and felt a connection I did not feel with either of the other ministers who served that congregation while she was there.

When I first applied to work at Camp in the spring of 1989 Barb was one of the people I used as a reference.  I remember that discussion.  We talked about my experience with IVCF (a group I was by then finding less and less comfortable in) and how their approach to Bible Study sat with me.

The other time I worked most closely with Barb was when I was on the interview/hiring committee for a new church musician (organist and choir director) and she was the ministry personnel working with the committee.

Then one day she said to my mom: "has Gord ever considered ministry?".  We all laughed. And yet within a year I was sitting in the office of the University chaplain asking about the process.  As I was getting ready to go to seminary I wrote to Barb.  Haven't talked to her for years in person, though we have connected on Facebook.   But without her question, I wonder if I would be where I am now....

And when I remember that story I remember that we in the church have a duty to call out leadership.  And yet I wonder if I would be able to do that, to ask that question.

Memories.....

It was the summer of 1981.  I spent many hours in the local hockey arena (which would later be called the "Ducky Dome" after a mural featuring giant ducks was painted on the back but I digress).  We sang, we danced, we practiced lines, we were measured for burlap sack costumes (and oh were those itchy).  And when the time came a group of us waited in the bleachers for our cue.  When it same we marched over the boards and down a ramp singing "13 Mighty Dwarves" in this show.  And so St. Albert Children's Theatre was born.  Tonight (in about 45 minutes as I write this) in a special presentation they celebrate 30 years.  And if I were in St. Albert or somewhere else in metro Edmonton I would be there for the show and to see old friends.

In hte early years SACT was a summer program.  But then it grew.  First a spring show was added in 1984.  Then the summer show became a full camp that same year.  Not only did we prepare a show we took classes in music and dance and drama.  ANd by that 1984 summer the program was so popular the show was double cast (starting the summer of 1985 there were two separate summer shows, divided by age).

All in all I participated in 10 of the shows on the production history on the SACT website (although one of those was actually done as an A.R.T.S show [ARTS was a parallel program with many of the same members that was started as a leadership development program in the fall of 1982] Black Bonspiel of Wullie Macrimmon with WO Mitchell coming to meet the cast and crew).  SOmetimes I was in the cast, sometimes I was on the crew.  But the shows, as enjoyable as they were, were only part of the benefit.

The real benefit is that those people with whom I shared many hours in rehearsal and preparation and in post-show parties were my best friends throughout those Junior and Senior High years.  A few went on to do theatre as a career but most of us didn't.  But we supported each other, laughed together, struggled together.  And of all the people from those years they are among the ones I wish I had stayed in touch with -- although I have reconnected with some through FB.  Yes I developed skillls that a
have served me well in ministry, but the friendships were the really important part.  We were a group, sometimes cliquish, but we were a group.

Not bad for something my mom thought I might find enjoyable to fill the days of summer vacation.