In the middle of April, out of a clear blue sky, I got a call from the Director of the Third Session [elementary and junior high age group] of Camp Smiling Acres, asking if I would consider taking on the role of the Bible Teacher for his Session this summer.  It took some logistical juggling to figure out whether and how I could make it work.  I needed to commute a little over an hour each way each day, arrive in time for a noon Class - and hopefully early enough to get in some softball and volleyball with the Campers before class - stay for lunch and more sports afterwards, and still get back in time to take over Little Ambrose’s care again by the time the sitter had to leave.  But, to my surprise, all of that was fairly easily resolved.  And so, I excitedly, though with some trepidation, accepted the invitation, and started making plans for the Class.  The trepidation stemmed from the large range in ages and maturity levels of the Campers at this Session, and whether I would be able to bring anything of spiritual value to such a diverse group. 

Third Session is now over, and all I can say on that question is that the jury is still out.  I was shocked, SHOCKED when I arrived for the first day of this Session and saw how little some of the Campers actually were.  It worried me that maybe none of these kids would be able to get anything out of the class.  And yet, as I was eating lunch after the first class, one of the oldest Campers sat down and started asking me Bible questions that were difficult to answer!  Even while it was happening, I found myself thinking, “I wonder if this is how the teachers in The Temple felt when conversing with the 12 year-old Jesus in Luke 2:46-47?”  By the end of the week, it was pretty obvious that some kids were paying attention and tracking with me, while some couldn’t keep their eyes open, which made me think, “This is pretty much like a typical Sunday at my church.”

Back to April.  A couple of weeks after talking to the Director of Third Session, the phone rang again. This time, it was the Director of the First Session [high school - college freshmen age group] of Camp Smiling Acres, looking for a Bible Teacher.  I checked outside – yep, another clear blue sky.  [Apparently, the “barrel” of available Bible teachers had “sprung a leak”.  By reaching out to me, he was, no doubt, “scraping the bottom of the barrel”.]  He didn’t know that I had already committed to Third Session, and was about to end our conversation when he found out.  But I explored the matter further with him because I figured that if I could commute to Third Session, I could also commute to First Session. 

However, commuting was not going to work this time.  Bible Class at First Session is the last thing before bed time.  The only way I could possibly teach at First Session would be to actually go and spend the entire week at Camp.  And, the only way this could happen would be if someone could stay all week with my son – and that is a big favor to ask of someone, and a big gift for someone to give.  Strangely enough, a few days before this call came in, my sister-in-law [Renee’s amazing sister] and her husband had volunteered to stay with my son so that, if I wanted to, I could actually stay all week at Third Session.  And sure enough, when I told them about the First Session opportunity, they were happy to come and stay all week with him that week instead so that I could teach at First Session.  And so, the arrangements were made.  For the first time in 40+ years, I was going back to Camp!

Perhaps you have sensed in all of this that Camp Smiling Acres holds a special place in my heart.  There is a lot of history there for me and my siblings and our friends.  I had attended the very first session of this Camp when it opened in 1968, and had not missed being out there for at least one week each summer, as a Camper and/or Counselor, through 1981.  So many memories came flooding back as I drove onto the grounds that first day of First Session a few weeks ago.  It didn’t matter that I had never actually attended Camp at this “new” location.  My memories were less about the place, and more about the people and the things that had happened during those 13 summers that had made Camp such a magical place.  And this time, my first time back at Camp after so many years, my first time back at Camp since Renee left, most of those memories were of her.  In the first Bible class for both Sessions, I “warned” the campers [and the Counselors!] to be extra nice to everyone you meet at Camp because you never know – that boy or girl who catches your eye just might turn out to be your husband or wife someday.  I first met Renee at Camp.

Oh no, it wasn’t like that!  She actually had to remind me after we started dating in December, 1980, that she had been a Camper when I was a Counselor for a couple of summers in a row before she was old enough to attend the High School Session.  My memories of her from those Sessions are vague at best.  She was just one of those “little kids” back then.

But then, after we finally really met as adults [I don’t know if that’s the right term – are kids in college really adults?] there was that one moment when she was in college and I was in law school, and we had the privilege of working as Counselors together at the same Session for one wonderful week.  We had been dating for several months by that time, and I’m sure we thought we were being discreet, but everybody, from the Campers to the other Counselors and Staff figured out pretty quickly that we were more than just friends.  Little eyes were everywhere, spotting every hug, every hand being held, even every quick kiss, and little mouths proclaimed the news loudly and with glee to the rest of the Camp.  There was no such thing as a “private meal” for us that week as Campers would playfully swarm around us whenever we sat down to eat together, apparently considering it to be their duty to make sure everything was being done “decently and in order”.  Someone [and I still don’t know if it was a Camper or a Counselor behind this] took advantage of my feelings for Renee and came up with a skit and convinced her to play a role which ended up with me getting a face-full of flour when I fell for the trick and leaned in for a kiss.  Oh my, how the Campers screamed with laughter!  It was a wonderful week, and it ended on Saturday morning, as the Campers were being picked up, with this – one of my favorite photos of us – which I can hardly believe I was able to find. 

I think she loved this picture too.  We were so young and strong, so happy, so exhausted from a full week of fun at camp.  [And so much hair!]   And we were on our way to our wedding almost exactly two years later, and then on to another nearly 40 years together.  What more could anyone want?  What more could anyone ask for?    

Being at Camp this summer, full time for First Session and lots of time for Third Session, brought back those warm and sweet memories, and those feelings of a time of innocence and trust and a belief in an unlimited future with only more of the same; of “Happily ever after.”  So I soaked in that healing warmth, and let it flow over and around and through my spirit for nearly two weeks in that special place.  And, if there were tears, they were tears of joy for the blessings of what had been.

Until Wednesday afternoon of Third Session.  As I was about to leave that day, one of the Counselors asked if I could talk to one of the Campers who was struggling with something which the Counselor wasn’t quite ready to handle.  Through tears, this little Camper asked me, “Why does God allow things like cancer and heart attacks to happen?”  She had lost her father to a heart attack earlier this year. 

Suddenly, it became apparent why, after all these years, I was being called back to Camp.  And suddenly, I was dragged from the warmth of my sweet memories of being at Camp with Renee, and flung back into the cold and stark reality of my life – a cold and stark reality that I shared with this tiny, hurting Camper.  We both had been robbed of someone we loved, someone who meant more to us than we could put into words.  They were both gone without warning, gone without “good-bye”; just suddenly gone.  And there was God, sitting on His throne - supposedly “in control” of everything, and supposedly working out everything for our “good”.  I could almost hear this Camper asking, “So, if all that is true and this still happened, what good is He?  How do you explain my broken heart, Mr. Preacher, Mr. Bible Teacher?”  Or maybe I was hearing myself asking those questions, all over again.

I’d love to tell you that I read her some verses that explain all of the mysteries of life, and, like in a Hallmark movie, I solved all of her [and my] problems, and sent us both on our way, happy and rejoicing in The Lord.  If that’s what I needed to do to be successful at Camp, then I was a failure.  All I could do was cry with her.  All I could do was tell her that I believe God was crying with us.  All I could do was tell her that, as hard as it is for us to believe right now, God is for us, that He is for her.  All I could do was tell her that someday, God is going to make all of our hurting go away, and somehow, He is going to make everything that went wrong on this earth, right.  All I could do was tell her that, until then, all we are doing on this earth is walking each other home.

Did it help her?  I don’t know.  Did it help me?  Maybe?

But I’m glad she was there.  And I’m glad I was there. 

And I hope I can go back again someday.      

Ambrose Ramsey | Pastor & Shepherd