My Heart is in the Woods

Crisp, evening air.

Towering pines kissing the sky as they stretch towards the heavens.

The crunch of gravel and cool grass under Chaco-clad feet.

The loons call in the distance, the waves lap. A guitar is being tuned.

The chatter of children is heard as they bundle up against cool breezes and relentless mosquitoes.

Conversations about tomorrow’s schedule and the events of the day fill the air.

Brilliant colors painting the sky-golden yellows, deep indigos, rich reds, pinks, and oranges.

The faint glimmer of stars in the darkening sky.

The crackle and snap of a fire.

The smell of wood smoke mixes with the scent of the trees, water, and the clean Minnesota air.

And the familiar chord progression breaks through the symphony of evening sounds,

As the camp rouser begins.

Familiar words are sung with enthusiasm. Clapping and hand gestures accompany the tune.

The camp cheer rings out, loud and clear over the lake—

—followed by the sound of complete and utter silence (until someone giggles!)

Silly songs, words of praise, a message, Scripture readings.

Community. Friendship.

Time for rowdy energy, giving thanks for the day.

Some moments of reflection and thoughts to ponder.

And quiet chords of love, grace, and peace send us on our way.

Sending tired bodies to snuggle into their sleeping bags-perhaps clutching a beloved stuffed animal, a letter from Mom, or the hand of a new friend in their dark cabin.

Worship materials are collected, guitars returned to their cases, and the fire extinguished.

It is the end of another campfire, another day.

These evening campfires, the sights, sounds, scents, and memories are forever ingrained on my heart and my mind. The smiles of campers, the feeling of a small hand in mine, the joyful noise that proclaims the glory of God; the picture of dusky clouds framing the northwoods as evening falls; I can picture these evenings with perfect clarity.

I have been to countless campfires during my time as a camper and staff member at Voyageurs Lutheran Ministry. And each worship service is powerful, rich, and Spirit-filled. I can see the tie-dyed t-shirts, the painted faces from all-camp game, the dozen pairs of Chacos, and the orange blaze of the fire. I can hear the brave voice of the camper who volunteered to read scripture or teach a song, the echo of the camp cheer, the power of God’s Still Small Voice speaking through moments of prayer and silence. I can feel the warmth of that fire, the love of community in the midst of a hug prayer, our petitions mixing and mingling above us, and pure, inexplicable joy & peace.

As I remember these beautiful, precious moments, there is a twinge of sadness about not being at camp this summer. That’s hard. But far exceeding any disappointment or heartache is a vault of deep gratitude for my time at camp, the lessons that I learned, the relationships build, the safety of community, and the way I have grown into myself around those campfires.

Even as I write this, eager staff members are preparing for camp. For some, it’s familiar and exciting. For others, it’s a little scary. So too, are the many campers anticipating their time at camp this summer; there might be some who have complete confidence, along with others who harbor some fear and uncertainty. That’s okay! What I’ve learned during my many summers in God’s Great Northwoods is that it’s okay to bring your excitement, your fears, questions, and joys to camp. Camp is a place where you can just be yourself-and you will be welcomed, loved, and affirmed as the beautiful child of God that you are.

There are countless other moments I could have reflected on—Bible Study, morning worship, overnights, weekends with staff, all camp game—but for me, campfire really embodies what camp is. It’s a time in our lives for us to slow down, be ourselves, worship our Creator, nurture friendships, be silly, grow into ourselves, marvel at the beautiful gift of life, and rest in the knowledge that we are loved.

And so, even though I have a couple more months before I will find myself on the shores of Deer Lake, gazing up at Grandfather Pine at Camp Hiawatha, or in the forested wilderness of Camp Vermilion, gazing up at the stars that take my breath away, I know that I carry the memories, lessons, and love of camp with me. My heart is in the woods.

It’s Great to be Alive in God’s Great Northwoods!

The Emptying and the Filling Up

"I have learned that I cannot always expect my life to be full. There has to be some emptying, some pouring out, if I am to make room for the new. The spiritual journey is like that - a constant process of emptying and filling, of giving and receiving, of accepting and letting go." -Joyce Rupp

The last month or so has been challenging for me. Not so much because of trouble here in Beit Jala, though I think it’s safe to say that all YAGM have encountered some bumps along the way from time to time, but because of what I’m missing out on. If you will, the challenges I am facing right now have less to do with the filling up, but with the emptying out & letting go.

I’ve expressed to several people that this leg of the journey, spring and summer, was going to be the most difficult for me, because of the imminent farewells, transitions, and the great unknown that lies ahead, but also because what I am missing now-namely, my sister’s graduation and camp. My family is everything to me and means more to me than I can every articulate. Missing Stephanie’s graduation is so sad to me, but I hope she realizes how proud I am of her!! Knowing that I am not going to camp for the summer breaks my heart more than just a little bit, dramatic as that may sound. Camp is home for me, the place where I am happiest and most at peace. I am confident there, loved, supported, and a part of the family. It’s hard to let go of that part of my life, even though I am so happy here.

This year has filled me with so many things that I didn’t even know I was missing. I have been filled with hospitality, insight, knowledge, wonder, questions…oh the questions. Coming here has required me to give up things, albeit temporarily-time with loved ones, wonderful jobs, the comfort and security of a familiar culture, and freedoms I never fully appreciated. Some things have been given up permenantly: my naivite and my dislike of onions being just a couple (trying to lighten the mood…)! In their places, a renewed pursuit of justice, equality, and peace for all people have found their way into my heart. I now have a taste for stuffed grape leaves, hummus, the aforementioned onions, and green almonds. I have friends who speak little to no English who have shown me so much love and care. I have learned so much.

I’ve learned so much about myself. I’ve realized I am much more introverted than I ever knew; perhaps it’s because I am immersed in a culture that is so people- and conversation-oriented all the time that I have realized how much I require quiet, introspective, me-time to process all that I am learning, seeing, experiencing, and living. As my dear friend and mentor, Jon Leiseth (co-country coordinator for the South Africa YAGM program), gently pointed out to me, I am an introvert who values relationships. That continues to be more and more true. Through all of this, seeing holy sights, learning languages, and trying new foods, it is the people and relationships that have made this place home.

This journey-the emptying and filling up-is far from easy. It’s beautiful, complicated, and so rich. I can’t tell you how I’ve changed—some things are easily named and noticed, while others will become more clear in the weeks and months following my return to the States, noticed by me or by others. I love the quote at the top of the page, as it articulates some of what I’m feeling as my heart longs to be at my sister’s graduation and up in God’s Great Northwoods. However, I don’t think it’s quite accurate, as I know that even when it’s hard in moments, life is still full. Even though we move on, we never let go or leave the people and places from our past. We carry these stories and these relationships with us wherever we go, and even though our hearts may ache for the familiar and comfortable, everwhere we are is shaped by where we have been.

I have been shaped by the love of my family, my time at camp, my best friends, the love of my life, my churches, my dance career, Concordia College, and so much more. All of it—the people, places and experiences have helped me to grow into the woman I am today. And now Palestine, the YAGM program, the Qabar family, my fellow Jerusalem/West Bank YAGM, my experiences here, the challenges & joys alike—this place will fill and shape me for the rest of my life.

Thanks be to God for that!