Yesterday Jack and I joined the youth group on their planning retreat. They have a mission trip next summer that will require fundraisers and donations– which requires quite a bit of juggling with the church calendar.
They’re good kids with good ideas. And they’re open to a little refining of some of their less than good ideas– so, all in all, it was time well spent.
The retreat was held at one of the Methodist camps. It’s not my favorite but a few of the kids have spent time there as campers and they love it. I was a counselor for week (or two?) there one summer and haven’t held too many memories of it. Mostly I remember that it was where there was a deaf kid for one week. He had someone with him signing for him all week and we found ourselves singing a lot the same choruses over and over so that it was easier for him/the signer. We all learned quite a bit of sign language that week. He’s the only camper I recall from that camp.
As a retreat center it works. We claimed the little firebowl down by the lake as ours and used it instead of the bigger, more corporate one by the lodge. Last night we found ourselves there with a small fire and the necessary supplies to make s’mores. It was the first s’more Rachel’s ever made. She’s 16. How many s’mores had I made (and eaten) before I turned 16? Her delight in the experience was infectious. She’d built the fire. She was the first to remark at the beautiful starry sky.
Jack had a wonderful time– he was decked in glow bracelets so that I could keep an eye on him while he played in the dark. I sat on one of the wooden benches near the fire and listened to the teenagers talk and watched, out of the corner of my eye, the bright, smaller circles hop and skip. Eventually, Jack and I left the teenagers and walked back up to the cabin. He stayed a few steps behind me, bravely testing himself outside of the bright circle of light from the flashlight I had borrowed. The woods were thick and dark– it was not long until he caught up and took my hand.
Jack got to sleep in the boys dormitory. The bunk beds there have railings all the way around them so it was like a little aerie for him. I slept in the girls dormitory across the common room in a bunk closest to the door. The others had thoughtfully arranged that thinking that Jack might need his mother. Ha. When Jack is out for the night, he’s out. Me, on the other hand, not so much. The other group at the camp was rocking out with their praise band. Not being a fan of praise bands in general and not being a fan of other people’s loud music when I want to hear the wind in the trees made for sleep being elusive and long in coming.
This morning we had a fantastic camp breakfast that included huge, homemade cinnamon rolls. Robby skyped in while we were sitting down to the tables. I snuck outside and gave him a view of the woods and lodge while he showed me some of the things he’d picked up for Jack. I brought Robby back to the breakfast table so that Jack could say hello before we had to hang up.
Our Pastor Sue was supposed to join us for a little church service and then communion. But the appointed time came and then went. We finally decided to wing it– I’d told those at my table that morning about one of my favorite communion memories. It happened back when I was still at senior high camp. At the Friday night communion service we gathered down by the lake in our small groups. The leader led us in prayer and then started talking about Jesus and the last supper. He focused on the elements– the wine and the bread.
So I borrowed from that when we had to adlib a bit… We took down the last can of root beer and our plastic Solo cups. We grabbed the leftover marshmallows and Hershey bars from the campfire the night before. And we talked about the elements. About how the bread and the wine were common things on the table in Christ’s day. That his disciples would, indeed, remember him whenever they sat down at a table because, most likely, those elements would be present. We did our best with what we had– what might be somewhat common to our diets– the root beer and the chocolate squares. We passed them around the chocolate and somehow managed to pour out just enough root beer so that it lasted until we got around the entire group. We broke the chocolate and ate it. We took the cups of root beer and remembered that it was his blood of the new covenant, poured out for many for the remission of sin. I told them how 1Timothy 4:12 had been on my mind lately– and how they, too, shouldn’t be despised for their youth. We talked about the great things they will do in the lives of the people on their mission trip next summer and in the lives of their church, family, and friends this year while they prepare for their trip. Steve prayed. We sang a few camp songs… and then Pastor Sue showed up.
So we had communion again– this time with grape juice and pretzel rolls (we liked the creamy cross shape breaking through the darker crust). And talked about Jesus being the vine and we being the branches. Pastor Sue gave us all a paper grape leaf to tuck somewhere to remind us of our part in the group this year.
She instructed us to”Put it someplace you’ll see it everyday…”
“The refrigerator!”
“My car.”
“The mirror.”
“The television” (That from my boy. Ooops.)
” My phone.”
We prayed again and then broke camp.
Jack and I are both in need of a good bath. The knees of his jeans are muddied. I have two sleeping bags that need airing out. All in all it was a good way to spend the weekend. (And I won “The T-Shirt Game” but only because the rest of the group felt sorry for my lack of points and rigged it. Thanks.)
