I hope all is well in
your parts of the world. Things are good here in Waukesha, Wis – busy, like
everybody else, but good! The summertime certainly does go by quickly, doesn’t
it? I wish that January and February went by as fast, but they never seem to,
do they? (Unless a lovely warm-weather vacation is on the calendar – then that
goes by quickly too!) ;)
Sooo… Recently as I
chatted with friends and scanned through Facebook and Twitter posts, I saw so much
talk about camping. It made me stop and think… when was the first time I camped
and who was I with? It didn’t take me long to remember, and I’d like to share
some of those experiences with you today.
When I was a kid, our
church had an organization called, “Lutheran Girl Pioneers.” It existed for
girls from 3rd grade (8/9 years old) through 8th grade confirmation
age (13/14). It was much like Girl Scouts (although I never actually was a Girl Scout – it’s what I’d equate it
with). We learned about many subjects, always with God at their center:
cooking, nature, first aid, woodworking, how to apply make-up, childcare, and
more. Though I found many of the activities to be enjoyable, one yearly event
stood out for me, and towered high above the rest – the annual LGP campout.
We always camped at the
same place – Mukwonago County Park. For the sake of this blog post I decided to
take a drive out to the park, and see how it looks now, 40 years later. To my
delight, not much had changed. I’d have bet the exact opposite, but no, it
looked pretty much the same. As I drove through the gate, the beach was still
to my left, and although I remembered it having more sand, a raft was still anchored
over “the deep end.” The cement block bathhouse hadn’t been updated at all. A layer
of pink paint lined the ladies’ room walls, and someone had painted over the
stall’s doors, locks and everything. Some things just do not change. ;)
Since very few people were
in the park that day, I took the time to drive the winding road up to the group
camp area, all the while remembering the good ole days… I paused at the top of
the hill and took this picture. I wanted to show you how pretty it is here in Wisconsin
and just why I love it so <3 …
Many trees now cover the
camp areas where open grassy spaces used to exist, and yet this particular site
looked almost the same. As young girls this was where we learned to spot poison
ivy, pitch canvas tents, spark a fire, cook our meals in tinfoil packs (ground
beef/carrots/potatoes), and roast marshmallows.
Once we all settled
down we sang songs about great big bears a waaaay over there; and Joe having a
head like a ping pong ball; and come by here Lord – come by here (Kum by yah).
One of our chaperones would lead a devotion and we’d learn something about God’s
love for us. Before bed we’d make our way to the bathrooms (pit toilets – ick),
but when you’re ten, is there anything more fun than running around at night with
a flashlight, regardless of the destination? I don’t think so…
After we snuggled into
our flannel sleeping bags underneath the protection of our canvas tents, we’d
talk about other things, important things
– boys and life – all of the things we’d
seen, heard, tried; things we knew (or thought we knew); and all the things we
still wondered about. Sometimes a quiet game of truth or dare would erupt. Now
that I’m an adult and I know how thin canvas actually is, I can’t help but wonder if our adult chaperones heard
every single thing we ever confessed… hmmm… I really hope not!
During the day, if the
weather was hot, we begged to spend our time at the beach. We’d spread our
towels in a cluster on the sand, continuing our conversations from the previous
night. (As a side note, the day I visited the park, girls still stood and sat
in clusters, whispering about – well, who really knows? But I (for one) have got
a few guesses…) In the water, we’d take turns doing hand stands, and some brave
girls dove from the raft. As we grew older, though, some no longer wanted to
get their hair wet… ah, youth… we (or
society?) give ourselves so little time to be completely young and carefree… Why
is that?
And at the end of a
long afternoon, we’d hike our way back up a huge hill (which still looks very
huge by the way) starving and ready for dinner - ready to repeat another
campfire, another songfest, (and my own personal favorite part) another night
in the confines of our tent. I still know some of those young women now, and
can honestly say that when you share so many confidences over the years – from friend
troubles to family issues to boys, and yes, especially
God - true and lasting relationships
formed and continue to this day.
At 52 years old, as I
stood by my idling car, taking pictures of this long-ago place from my childhood,
I silently gave so much credit to our adult volunteers. They took three days
and two nights of their summer, so that we could have these early camping and
bonding experiences. As kids we may not have always appreciated every minute
that they gave. Between giggling our fool heads off, complaining some, and even
a bout or two of tears (we were pre-teen girls after all) I truly do value
those days now, and thank each of the adults for the efforts they made.
As I wound my way back
down the hill, glanced back at the beach and drove away, I felt so glad that I’d
visited the park that day. Sometimes things change to the point that we no
longer recognize them; and sometimes they stay exactly the same. And I guess
there’s a time for both…
… a time for every
purpose under Heaven.
Katie
Kolberg Memmel is the author of “Five Fingers, Ten Toes – A Mother’s Story of
Raising a Child Born with a Limb Difference.” For more information, visit her
website at www.katiekolbergmemmel.com
