Camp helps kids and moms grow

Yesterday we picked up Brendan after a week at Pine Hills, an area Christian/Catholic camp. I surprised myself by tearing up when I saw him.  Although I missed him, I had worked hard to keep our week full, since my other boys missed their big brother so much.  We had cousin sleepovers, strawberry picking, and time at the lake.

But on quite a few occasions, I found myself awake in the middle of the night, for two-hour stretches at least. I used that time to pray for Brendan.  We never received a card from him (despite our instructions to send us at least a note that said "fun" or "not fun"); he said no one at the camp sent letters.

Nick got a hug before I did! These two were so happy to see each other!

I thought this week would have the power to touch Brendan's heart, and help him grow in his faith and as a young man in some profound ways. But that doesn't mean my heart didn't ache and wonder a bit as the week neared its end and we still had no news.

Our daughter Meghan has loved Pine Hills Girls Camp. This will be her third and final year as a camper there, and since Day One it has become the highlight of her year. She has grown in her faith, and the knowledge that God loves her as she is, and that she is so beautiful in His sight, has firmly been planted in her heart.

But the boys' camp is different than the girls' camp. We had heard tales about it being more like a boot camp, and about boys needing to run from Point A to Point B, but none of that deterred Brendan. Since Meghan returned from her first camp experience, he has been eagerly waiting for his turn to go. I believe he saw it as a rite of passage.

I was amazed to watch the boy who, not too long ago, would tear up when he had to sleep away from us, or if his Dad was away for work for a time, head into camp without a trace of nervousness.  All I saw on his face was pure excitement.

Even when we trudged to his cabin through hard rain and big puddles, he kept smiling. Even when we realized the boys use a different area of camp -- an area with very basic structures for cabins (versus the girls' more luxurious air-conditioned ones), he kept smiling. Even when Meghan saw where he would stay and expressed her fear that maybe this wasn't what we expected, and maybe Brendan wouldn't like camp -- he kept smiling. Even as I grabbed one more hug before walking away for a week, he kept smiling.

The following pictures (except the last one) are from our Father's Day picnic.
Nicholas LOVED this park, river, and bridge.

It was a strange moment for me as a mom -- realizing that I had to trust the people who run the camp knew what they were doing. I had to trust they knew something about boys I probably didn't.

As Meghan asked how I could be at peace with leaving him, while she was nervous for him, I had to tell her that while the rough accommodations wouldn't be right for her, they probably were just right for Brendan. While it was nice for the girls to be served when team members cart their bags to their cabins for them (this was the case Meghan's first year), it's also nice for boys to learn to be men by being responsible for getting their own bags to their cabins -- even through the rain and mud! While it was nice for Meghan to have air conditioning, Brendan would be OK with the fans in his cabin. And if the fact that we didn't bring him his own fan ended up causing him some discomfort, well, that could be OK too, because life is like that, and we have to learn to make the most of things even when they aren't perfect.

I trusted this camp had a  different goal than the girls' camp. This camp was for helping shape boys into young men. Not just any young men, but young men of faith. Soldiers for Christ.

I had to trust all of the positives of camp would work toward that end. And then I had to trust all of the challenges would work toward that end too.

I think Brendan was hungry for the opportunity to prove to himself that he is a young man, and that he can survive -- he can thrive -- even without his every need being anticipated.

I laughed to myself as I picked him up, because one weight on my heart I had to push aside as we left him was the fact that I neglected to pack any anti-itch cream for mosquito bites (something I've never forgotten for Meghan). His cabin was near a swampy area, and I realized there probably would be a lot of bugs.

Sure, enough, his legs are covered in mosquito bites, but he brushed it off as he explained how he got most of them playing whole-camp games of Capture the Flag. He learned to deal with it, patiently, while proving himself on the battlefield. How do you teach someone to deal patiently with minor (and especially not-so-minor) irritations? Perhaps they have to learn it by having their eyes on a higher goal -- for adults, hopefully that would be service to family or God's kingdom; for middle-school boys, perhaps that lessons begins best by giving them the opportunity to work for their team.

I have no doubt the lesson will serve him far beyond the Capture-the-Flag field of battle.

I never thought I would send my children to overnight camps. How could I ever trust an organization to ensure all of the people who would come in contact with my children would work for their welfare? In today's world, this is not a question to be taken lightly.

But then I heard Debbie Herbeck, the head of Pine Hills Girls Camp, speak. The Holy Spirit touched my heart. I knew I could trust Debbie. And I knew Meghan needed to go to Pine Hills.

I never looked back. I never questioned whether we could afford it. I simply signed her up. My confidence in that decision never wavered. (And that is very unlike me!) 

When Brendan wanted to go to camp, I knew we would have to let him go too. I wanted him to have the opportunity to grow in the same way Meghan did.

But there was a difference. I never heard the head of the boys' camp speak. The Holy Spirit never directed me regarding Brendan, at least not in that same way. But still, I chose to trust.

And I am so glad I did.

Today's Gospel reading (Mark 4:35-41), says "On that day, as evening drew on, Jesus said to His apostles, 'Let us cross to the other side."

The Magnificat expounded on this, saying, "His beckoning Let us cross woos us to live life as a risk."

Yes -- let us live life as a risk. Not risk merely for the sake of risk, but risk as being willing to step out in faith to the places God calls us.

This could mean sending your child to a Catholic high school. It could mean changing your career course. It could mean being open to life. It could mean following a dream and hoping it can lead to something bigger.

Brendan, on the right, still wearing a smile a week later.

Or it could be as simple as sending your son to camp. For the son, it could be as simple as going.

In some way, right now, God is calling each of us to put out into the deep (Luke 5:4).

I hope we can all say "Yes" with the same confidence Brendan had as he left for camp last week. And as we walk down the path of that Yes, I hope we also can have his faith, and confidence. No matter what deterrents come along to entice us to do otherwise, I hope we can be like Brendan and keep smiling.

From Luke 5: 4-6: " He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” 5 And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” 6 And when they had done this, they enclosed a great shoal of fish ...."

'Something Other than God' describes journey to faith through reason

Jennifer Fulwiler's book, "Something Other than God" was just what I needed to jump-start my summer reading. I'm actually going to email my priest and suggest this be the book they distribute to all of the parishioners and visitors next Christmas. It has given me new eyes -- perfect for stepping out into this new season with a fresh perspective.  "Something Other Than God" is engaging and life-changing, and examines the Catholic Church through the eyes of reason and faith.

It's also a very approachable book.  My 14-year-old daughter picked it up within hours of me setting it down, and finished it later that night.

A friend loaned me the book after I mentioned watching -- and loving -- this video of Fulwiler's journey to discover what Mary would look like in today's world. (If you are a woman, just watch the video.  You will thank me -- especially if you are a woman at all questioning how you are being asked to live out your faith and vocation amidst your own individual circumstances. My favorite line was from Fulwiler's friend's spiritual director: "The Church is clear about what constitutes sin: every failure to love, that's sin. But the positive the Church leaves wide open. God wants us to be free to use all of our intelligence and all of our gifts to follow where He is calling us. The Church should be the place of the greatest possible experience of true freedom.")

A candle my children recently lit at Mary, Queen of the Universe Church in Orlando, FL.
The following pictures also come from this beautiful church. If you ever get a chance to visit,
confession is available almost all day, and the gift shop is extensive!

The title of Fulwiler's book comes from a C.S. Lewis quote, "All that we call human history ... (is) the long, terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy."

I took the book with me on a recent family vacation, but didn't get a chance to open it until the plane ride home, when Nick fell asleep for a blissful two hours.

Once I started this book, I could barely put it down until I'd finished it. Fulwiler was raised an ardent atheist, and her story tracks her slow conversion to Catholicism.

Hers was a leap of faith accompanied by extensive and relentless study and reason. I loves this book for the compelling way it shares with others the very thing that led me to make the Catholic faith truly my own: The Church has reasons for its teachings.  Reasons that resonate with both my mind and my heart.  Reasons supported by history and by logic.

As much as our world may want to contend there can be as many truths as there are people, logic dictates there ultimately can be only one Truth. Fulwiler's journey describes how someone least likely to ascribe that Truth to the Catholic Church finally did, but only after having the doors to all other options close.

Fulwiler's book is ideal for people finding themselves in a similar search for Truth. It's equally ideal for someone like myself, a devout Catholic nevertheless a bit burdened by life, asking God for help stripping away those things holding me back from being closer to Him.  All of those things she tried to fill her life with in order to not notice the emptiness there without God's love?  I'm guilty of allowing some of those same things into my life -- and I should know better.

Fulwiler's story ultimately is one of courage and of Love. As much as she sought Truth, He clearly sought her more, and with the most enduring patience.  Her journey also was not without loss.  Fulwiler and her husband gave up much, but gained so much more.  Most importantly, they found something we all desire: peace.

Let me know if you decide to give "Something Other Thank God" a try.  I would love to hear your thoughts about the book!

Our Lady of Guadalupe: I find such comfort in discovering
her in almost every church or chapel I visit.