A Week To Remember
I duck as Rachel and I pass the low-hanging branches of the tree standing outside our cabin. Our hair is wet and our eyelids are drooping but we stroll up the hill to a vibrant hour of praise with Stasia and Jon. One of the girls from Roadside Swift lumbers past us, swaying unsteadily like she’s intoxicated. We would have been alarmed under normal circumstances but instead we merely snort, humored. It’s early morning and although it was rushed to wake up and take a shower before the first activity, it had its perks. For example, we’re able to walk in a straight line. The doors to the little chapel are wide open so we enter with the rest of the stragglers, most of whom are from the Calvary Chapel group, oddly enough. Usually there’s a mob of teenagers waiting around the porch to claim seats before a service starts, but this 7:00 a.m. worship session is the only optional gathering, and consequently has a much slimmer attendance record. Excited for starting a new day with our favorite songs, we hop lithely up the steps two at a time – well, Rachel can only handle one at a time because her legs are a bit shorter than mine, but she’s thrilled nevertheless. We grab some seats near the front, and join our cracked and croaking voices as the sun rises and our stomachs growl in unison.
Even before the last note fades we race to the door of Lamby Hall where everyone’s waiting outside for breakfast. The doors here are much less welcoming than those at early morning worship, because I seriously doubt anyone has ever considered missing one of the meals at New England Keswick. So after the door has fallen victim to enough nerf gun bullets discharged by us starving campers, one of the leaders remembers we’re there and we flood in to find the table with our favorite counselor. From then on until the hoppers are sweating and the tables cleared, the place is a comfortable clamor of chatter, forks scraping against plates, announcements, and Cheryl announcing “God bless America” good-naturedly.
As the rest of the day pans out we do a lot of cleaning, running and eating, not necessarily in that order. Keswick promotes a lifestyle of dining well and playing hard, which benefits everyone in the mind, soul and body. They have amazing desserts but believe me, you burn the calories just by walking up that hill to your cabin and back. Unless of course you end up in the same cabin with one of those kids who stuffs ten Twinkies in his shirt whenever there’s free snacks; that might not turn out well.
There are so many things to do during free time; it’s hard to wrap your brain around it. Being the best place on earth, there are plenty of activities to satisfy both canines and felines, which means neither Rachel nor I could complain. You could play foosball or Frisbee golf, gaga ball or swimming, volleyball or a board game. You could learn to knot a friendship bracelet or just run in circles with a mountain dew clutched in one hand and somebody’s ponytail in the other. In short, you could lose a friend and gain a pound in the morning, but by the time evening chapel rolled around you had a pretty good chance of still having a superlative day. You could even have a temperature of 105 degrees and have a great time at Keswick, considering the camp nurse is like your Grandma and favorite teacher and sample distributor lady from Sam’s club all in one. Not that she gives everyone handouts of Benadryl but, well, you know what I mean. She takes good care of you, all the time and no matter what. The counselors are fabulous on both the spiritual and physical plane, always there to challenge in a soccer game or to pray with about absolutely anything. The lectures and seminars and individual cabin studies are provoking and enthralling. We are convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt throughout the week, some of us for the first time, that Jesus really does love us.
The key is, Keswick isn’t just “like family”, it IS family. My friends there really are my spiritual brothers and sisters. I talk with them. I cry with them. I laugh with them, and at them, and at myself. At camp you can be yourself because that’s what everyone else is doing. Any social stratification is dispelled about the same time that sun burns and cabin camaraderie set in: the very first day. Besides, I imagine when you find yourself trying to knock people over while orbiting a trashcan, everyone else is pretty normal. When the time comes to pack our bags we are really sad to leave the fun and fulfilling week behind us. See, a week at Keswick is so refreshing to your spirit because there’s a light inside us that often grows dim when you forget how much you love Christ and put Him on the back shelf. But after even a short time at camp that light is nurtured to its brightest, radiating from all the campers and counselors, and accentuated by the speckled remains of glow sticks on everyone’s clothes. Being there is like a glimpse of heaven, but I don’t mean that in a flippant way at all because when we get to heaven, I’m pretty sure we’ll be doing exactly what we were doing at Keswick. Eating, laughing, and loving Jesus. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised at all if the schedules are very similar indeed.
I duck as Rachel and I pass the low-hanging branches of the tree standing outside our cabin. Our hair is wet and our eyelids are drooping but we stroll up the hill to a vibrant hour of praise with Stasia and Jon. One of the girls from Roadside Swift lumbers past us, swaying unsteadily like she’s intoxicated. We would have been alarmed under normal circumstances but instead we merely snort, humored. It’s early morning and although it was rushed to wake up and take a shower before the first activity, it had its perks. For example, we’re able to walk in a straight line. The doors to the little chapel are wide open so we enter with the rest of the stragglers, most of whom are from the Calvary Chapel group, oddly enough. Usually there’s a mob of teenagers waiting around the porch to claim seats before a service starts, but this 7:00 a.m. worship session is the only optional gathering, and consequently has a much slimmer attendance record. Excited for starting a new day with our favorite songs, we hop lithely up the steps two at a time – well, Rachel can only handle one at a time because her legs are a bit shorter than mine, but she’s thrilled nevertheless. We grab some seats near the front, and join our cracked and croaking voices as the sun rises and our stomachs growl in unison.
Even before the last note fades we race to the door of Lamby Hall where everyone’s waiting outside for breakfast. The doors here are much less welcoming than those at early morning worship, because I seriously doubt anyone has ever considered missing one of the meals at New England Keswick. So after the door has fallen victim to enough nerf gun bullets discharged by us starving campers, one of the leaders remembers we’re there and we flood in to find the table with our favorite counselor. From then on until the hoppers are sweating and the tables cleared, the place is a comfortable clamor of chatter, forks scraping against plates, announcements, and Cheryl announcing “God bless America” good-naturedly.
As the rest of the day pans out we do a lot of cleaning, running and eating, not necessarily in that order. Keswick promotes a lifestyle of dining well and playing hard, which benefits everyone in the mind, soul and body. They have amazing desserts but believe me, you burn the calories just by walking up that hill to your cabin and back. Unless of course you end up in the same cabin with one of those kids who stuffs ten Twinkies in his shirt whenever there’s free snacks; that might not turn out well.
There are so many things to do during free time; it’s hard to wrap your brain around it. Being the best place on earth, there are plenty of activities to satisfy both canines and felines, which means neither Rachel nor I could complain. You could play foosball or Frisbee golf, gaga ball or swimming, volleyball or a board game. You could learn to knot a friendship bracelet or just run in circles with a mountain dew clutched in one hand and somebody’s ponytail in the other. In short, you could lose a friend and gain a pound in the morning, but by the time evening chapel rolled around you had a pretty good chance of still having a superlative day. You could even have a temperature of 105 degrees and have a great time at Keswick, considering the camp nurse is like your Grandma and favorite teacher and sample distributor lady from Sam’s club all in one. Not that she gives everyone handouts of Benadryl but, well, you know what I mean. She takes good care of you, all the time and no matter what. The counselors are fabulous on both the spiritual and physical plane, always there to challenge in a soccer game or to pray with about absolutely anything. The lectures and seminars and individual cabin studies are provoking and enthralling. We are convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt throughout the week, some of us for the first time, that Jesus really does love us.
The key is, Keswick isn’t just “like family”, it IS family. My friends there really are my spiritual brothers and sisters. I talk with them. I cry with them. I laugh with them, and at them, and at myself. At camp you can be yourself because that’s what everyone else is doing. Any social stratification is dispelled about the same time that sun burns and cabin camaraderie set in: the very first day. Besides, I imagine when you find yourself trying to knock people over while orbiting a trashcan, everyone else is pretty normal. When the time comes to pack our bags we are really sad to leave the fun and fulfilling week behind us. See, a week at Keswick is so refreshing to your spirit because there’s a light inside us that often grows dim when you forget how much you love Christ and put Him on the back shelf. But after even a short time at camp that light is nurtured to its brightest, radiating from all the campers and counselors, and accentuated by the speckled remains of glow sticks on everyone’s clothes. Being there is like a glimpse of heaven, but I don’t mean that in a flippant way at all because when we get to heaven, I’m pretty sure we’ll be doing exactly what we were doing at Keswick. Eating, laughing, and loving Jesus. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised at all if the schedules are very similar indeed.
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| Rachel, Meagan and Abby. My partners in crime that week...soap fights, stowaway frogs, ping-pong, canoeing, foosball, etc...so many memories. |
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