The long summer break was always awaited with anticipation. We longed for lazy, sleepy days of downtime. What we received was additional work: more weeding in long, shaggy rows of carrots and beets, shelling endless mounds of peas, cleaning the chicken house. I really don't remember resenting the work. We each were in it together.
Sometimes we were involved in summer camps, always with vacation Bible school. One year Carol and I went to James River Bible Camp, she as an assistant horse handler, I as a junior cabin counsellor. She had an awesome week; I was homesick.
I wasn't often away from home and rarely amongst people that I didn't know. Although Carol was on site, I only saw her once during the week. To make matters worse, one of the young girls under our care suffered from the same malady. After two full days of tears and withdrawal, her parents were called and she departed, leaving her best friend behind to sink in her own misery. My senior counsellor was adept at redirecting and encouraging and soon all was calm.
That same summer, my brother offered my services at vacation Bible school in the tiny Sundre Nazarene Church. That was OK. The pastor picked me up and returned me home after only a few hours. Homesickness didn't have time to settle in.
James River was also the site of Family Camp for many years and we often attended. Excellent speakers, uplifting music and strong friendly ties bolstered our faith. Later we began attending at Camp Harmattan, the Nazarene camp.
We were privileged to attend this summer. Larry tries to be home in time but didn't make it last year. Other years he only has a day or two, but this August he was here for nearly the entire week. He arrived Sunday mid-afternoon, his first visit since I moved. We had an early supper and headed out to Camp Harmattan, nestled deep in the river valley. The camp was crammed with motorhomes, tent trailers and refurbished cabins.
Family Camp was just that, hordes of children, teens and adults of all ages. The dense air was hot and smoky. Evenings are always spent around the fire and the acrid wisps stung my eyes and sinuses. As we strolled around the grounds we met a few folks I knew, some that I recognized but were known only to Larry. With his long history as a youth leader, camp director and pastor, he seemed to know everyone.
The grounds have undergone many changes. A rare flood that evacuated Sundre also caused havoc at Camp Harmattan several years ago. On the youth side many of the cabins along the riverbank were damaged. Trails disappeared and mud and debris were everywhere.
It was encouraging to see the rebuilt facility on the family camp side. The former structure was a victim of the heavy snowpack in more recent years. It has resumed its place and opened its arms. We used to call it the tabernacle, then the multiplex building. Whatever the name, the spirit of the Lord was there and we were blessed.
"Family Camp was just that, hordes of children, teens and adults of all ages. The dense air was hot and smoky. Evenings are always spent around the fire and the acrid wisps stung my eyes and sinuses."
