Solo

In past few years (especially this year) we have been creating intentional spaces around camp. These spaces are designed for experience because CAMP makes a great connection between experiencing your surroundings and experiencing God.

Every day in all kind of ways we are influenced by our surroundings. People, buildings, weather, cities, suburbs, animals, trees, solitude, stressful situations, busyness, silence and a host of other "externals" are part of our experience as we walk (the moment by moment) with God each day. For a specific time, camp is a unique place with unique externals. For some it is a weekend or a week, for many a summer, and for others almost a lifetime. For everyone it is an invitation.

Here at Arrowhead we are passionate about inviting others just like Jesus. Jesus called many to follow Him for a time. There were 12 disciples that He called to follow Him for a specific time for a unique purpose. They walked (moment by moment) with Him for over three years. Jesus invited them to experience life with Him. That invitation included times of prayer, reading scripture, talking with people, sharing meals with others, solitude and silence. At Arrowhead we INVITE our campers and staff to experience camp life with us. As they experience camp life they also experience the same invitation that Jesus gave to His disciples - to follow Him.

One of our newest intentional spaces is a small cabin that we moved... to a secluded spot, nestled into a small clearing against the tree line of a wooded area. The photo above comes from a very good friend who recently spent a snowy day of solitude at the cabin.

November and a Year

I've been meaning to post a new entry on the blog for about two weeks. It has taken me until now because of some other urgencies and some procrastination (which absolutely drives me nuts).

The month of November (Nov. 1st) marks one year since we left for Syracuse with McKenna. The whole month of November and a few days into December were spent at University Hospital... on a journey that Kelly and I could never have imagined.

We went from a tiny cramped room, wondering what was happening to our baby to a wide open room in the Pediatric ICU, facing the certainty of death. Part of me has trouble thinking about the whole experience. I vividly remember snapshots that rattle me down deep, like when your body shutters in an effort to shake off the cold night air in the middle of winter. I find myself "day-dreaming" about the hospital, McKenna, our friends, family, doctors, difficulties, sleeplessness... only to realize that I'm driving in the car or sitting in the office and I have to remind myself that that was last year. It's the truest meaning of bitter-sweet. I would rather not think of the hospital or of McKenna with all her tubes or times we helped people say goodbye, but a significant part of McKenna's life was spent in that hospital. We spent so much "valuable" time together in such a short amount of days.

God continues to pour out His blessing on us. Through pictures of McKenna on refrigerators of friends, speaking engagements on suffering & ministry, continued contact with McKenna's doctors and nurses, encouraging letters & shared scripture, Natalie's innocent proclamations & prayers at dinner that she loves her sister McKenna who is in heaven, and the reality that the Almighty God and Creator of all things has firmly upheld us and created purpose in our suffering... we are blessed and we have joy.

I wrote a poem back in February two months after we returned home with McKenna. It's been on my heart and mind this whole month. Every time I read it, with sorrowful tears of determination my heart cries out, "Amen" (it is true). Every word, every line is the perfect representation of how God used my little McKenna Joy to impact my life.

[click the picture to enlarge]