HOW CAN I CHOOSE JUST ONE MOMENT FROM CAMP THAT HAD AN IMPACT?
I can't.
So I will share two special moments that happened at Fisher Bay Bible Camp last week.
We had not planned to be participating in the camp this summer so it was a surprise to receive the call from Scott Rosom, director, to ask Walter to be the speaker for Junior 2 week.  Our calendar was open and Walter thought he could prepare the stories and lessons in a week's time.  We arrived at Fisher Bay on Monday afternoon and campers were arriving in half an hour.  No problem!  Chapel time wasn't until 8 pm that evening so Walter had time to review the story of Mary Slessor, missionary in the 1800's to Nigeria, Africa.  All went well.
I had anticipated being Walter's prayer support and maybe help out in the kitchen or wherever needed. But at the next morning's 7 am staff meeting, Scott asked if I was willing to help in Riflery for Skill 1, 2, and 3.  I knew how to operate a pellet gun and thought I'd be more crowd control than anything so I agreed.  Oh, and by the way, could I fill in for Skill 4 after supper with the airsoft activity?  Now that was a stretch!  But being trained as a missionary to respond with "I shall be glad to", I couldn't refuse.
The blessing of being involved in the skills was to be able to interact directly with the campers.  In the past, I was cooking and basically locked into the kitchen all day.  My only interaction with the kids was to serve them at meals.  I barely knew anyone's names.  But being in the riflery shack 3 times a day gave me opportunity to get to know at least 25 names. And then about 8 more on the airsoft course.
On about the fourth day of camp, I was walking over to the tuck shop (canteen) to get my one free item for the day.  As I came back with my ice cream sandwich, I noticed a little girl alone on the swing set.  I sat nearby and struck up a simple conversation with "Sierra".  It was her first time at camp and she was 8 years old.  She was one of the quiet ones in my riflery skill.  As I asked a few more questions, she began to tell me about her family.  She lived with her Gran on the neighbouring reserve.  Her mom had a boyfriend and lived in Winnipeg.  They drank a lot.  Her dad was in the hospital (probably in Winnipeg).  This kind of explained her quiet and withdrawn nature.  So I asked if she wanted to come to camp next summer.  Sierra replied that yes, only if she can get enough money to come again.  Some lady sponsored her to be able to come.  So I encouraged her to pray all winter and God could provide the money.  Then I was prompted to ask if she wanted me to pray with her right now, and pray for her mom and boyfriend and dad and Gran.  She nodded and folded her hands as we sat on the swings and prayed.
Right after we said "Amen", the lifeguard announced swimming time, so Sierra ran off to get ready for that.  But I sat and pondered this rare opportunity.  How precious to listen to a sweet little girl's hard story and then see her bow her head and pray!  I will not forget Sierra.
The last night of camp was banquet night.  We enjoyed a lovely supper in a dining hall decorated with forest animals and leaves made of construction paper.  Then the fun part was that the counselors have to do the dishes while the support staff get to play with the kids!  Walter engaged in the epic water fight, while I chose a quiet spot to hang out.  As the sun was setting, it was getting cooler out, so I ran back to our room to get a jacket.  And then it was campfire time.
I walked to the fireside benches and found a seat.  Soon, a ten-year-old boy, "Connor", sat beside me. He was also in riflery and was usually one of the boisterous and active ones in the group.  He sat quite close to me and instead of joking around or jumping up or chasing other kids, Connor just sat.  So I asked him a couple questions about his day.  Pretty soon he began sharing about how he wasn't sure what grade he would be in this year.  He got his report card that said he wasn't going to be promoted.  He seemed quite upset about it.  Was it also because it was the last evening at camp and going home would be difficult?  When the campfire singing and skits started, our conversation came to an end.  But Connor kept sitting beside me and didn't join his other friends or participate in the songs.
My heart was touched by this "tough guy" being so vulnerable and maybe needing a caring "mom" figure for comfort.  I will not forget Connor.
Will I ever see these children again?  Not sure.  Will they remember me or our conversations?  Hard to say.  All I know is that I will be impacted by Sierra and Connor because the Lord used them to remind me how important and how loved each soul is to Him.
"Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so;
Little ones to Him belong; they are weak but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so."

I will do it.  I will climb to the top.

Morning beckoned; sleep was done.

Donning jeans, blouse, socks, shoes, and a hoodie, I left the dimness of the cabin and stepped out into the sunshine.  The air had that early morning freshness.  I breathed it in. Then I strode off the wrap-around deck and through the freshly mowed grass. 

Crunch, crunch.  My feet found the gravel path that led to the hill.  Years ago, our family discovered the hiking trail up this hill.  Being a prairie girl, I was used to seeing limitless horizons and endless sunsets.  So to climb above the flatness of my world and experience a different view was an adventure to me.

The wet spring and early summer caused the grass on the hillside to be knee-high already. It was July.  Quite often, the grass was golden and maybe shin-high this time of year.  I searched for the path’s beginning.  It was grown over but I started up anyway.  There was only one way to go.

As I lifted one foot and then the other through the high grasses, I couldn’t remember this hike being so steep, so challenging.  This first stretch was always the hardest.  I took a break to catch my breath and turned away from the hill and looked out.  I saw the lush green trees, shiny metal roof-tops peeking through here and there.  The air was warming up and I unzipped my hoodie.  I pressed on upwards.

The path wasn’t as worn as in past years.  Did no one take this hike anymore?  I continued to climb, creating my own path.  I stopped again before reaching the first plateau.  Anticipation swelled in my mind and I was not disappointed as I let my eyes take in the beautiful vista.  Katepwa Lake appeared silver and smooth as a mirror, reflecting the opposite shoreline and the white chapel of Camp Monohan in a perfect image.  The sun was brilliant in a clear blue, cloudless sky.  I turned to take in the spectacular sight from the landbridge at Lebret all the way to Katepwa Point, where the beach was tucked around the far southeast side.  Not a boat marred the serenity of the waters. 

As I carried on up to the next rise, I noted the profusion of wildflowers, more than previous summers.  Golden brown-eyed susans, delicate bluebells, soft pink prairie roses, and white wild baby’s breath.  The path had emerged as the grass seemed sparser on top of the hills.  I paused again at the second level and looked out, rising higher than the little crescent of cabins in an open area.   Noticing a trail of dust and hearing the rumble of a semi-truck across the opposite side of the lake, I followed its descent to the gravel road leading to Lebret and then wherever the truck was headed. 

The trail continued down slightly before bringing me to the next natural stopping place, almost on equal elevation with this second level.  I had caught my breath and strolled on easily.  I had wrapped the arms of my grey hoodie around my waste and tied them together.  The morning coolness gave way to what promised to be a hot July day.  I could hear various birdcalls down in the valley and up ahead in the bluff of trees near the field.  I was almost to the very last plateau.

I used to challenge my young kids to a race to the fence “finish line” that separated the field on the prairie once again.  I smiled, recalling how competitive they were!  Did I ever beat them to the fence?  Doesn’t matter-they’d beat me now!  Sweet, sad memories of their childhoods and proud motherly emotions filled my heart as I thought of them as the young adults they are today.  I didn’t bother going all the way to the fence, which had very tall grass growing along its length.  I spied a large, flat rock and chose to sit and be thankful.  Prayers rose from this special spot.  The peacefulness was like a sanctuary where only me and my God were meeting.

Reluctantly, I stood and looked out over the Qu’appelle Valley before beginning my descent.  How to end such a holy moment?  As I strolled back over my path, I saw birds flitting and landing on some bushes on the side of the hill.  My eyes focused more closely; Saskatoon bushes!  A few berries were ripe and I picked a couple handfuls, gently dropping them in the pocket of my hoodie. They would taste delicious with yoghurt and granola.  I suddenly realized I was hungry and could sure use a coffee!

My hike down the hillside was much quicker with breakfast on my mind.  I had to be careful not to gain too much speed on the steepest portion.  My final glimpses of the still-calm lake below thrilled my soul!  An inspiring genesis to this day of vacation…God is great!  I hummed the chorus on my way back to the quiet cabin…

“God is great and His praise fills the earth, fills the heavens and His Name shall be praised in all the world.  God is great; sing His praise, all the earth, all the heavens ‘cause we’re living for the glory of Your Name, the glory of Your Name!”