"The woods were my Ritalin. Nature calmed me, focused me, and yet excited my senses."
~Richard Louv
In my travels to Ohio this past week, I was present not only to our son's graduation from Ohio Wesleyan University but also to the green rolling hills that shaped me. Driving through small towns and countryside, I was once again reminded of the visceral experience I have when I drive through these hills and valleys. There seems to be something in the landscape that jogs a place of connection within me that is difficult to describe. The one thing I am sure of is that most people have a similar experience in their own 'homeland'. It is a place of groundedness, a place of feeling deeply at home.
On this particular excursion, I decided to return to the church campground where I had spent some formative times as a teenager. Camp Francis Asbury sits in the woods near Rio Grande, in the foothills of what, within a few miles, becomes the Appalachian Mountains. Several years back a fire had ripped through the camp destroying the buildings and it has slowly been being restored to welcome campers again. Driving into the campground, I found myself looking toward a particular shelter house remembering conversations, friendships and songs shared around the fire. On the shore of the lake which seemed much smaller and much muddier than I remembered, I thought of the lazy times we spent on the beach trying to catch the eye of the lifeguard who was also a gifted guitar strumming singer. Church camp was not all Bible stories after all!
The woods and the camp gave shape to my early faith. It was a place where my questions were welcomed. a place where we all felt safe to grapple with the 'big' issues of our time. The leaders listened with care and helped us find our way in the wilderness of being teenagers. All this was done within the sanctuary of trees, trails, green grass and a lake for swimming. The evenings were spent slapping mosquitoes while we sat in a circle around the campfire, singing, laughing, feeling the dirt under our feet and the breeze through our hair. Speaking our deep wonderings about God, our faith, our world into the fresh air brought a different experience than in a classroom or at our places of worship.
As we left the campground I thought of the book Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv which was published a couple of years ago and has now created a movement in which people are finding ways to connect children with the natural world, something that has fallen in short supply. As children spend more and more time in structured, indoor activities they are spending less and less time in the natural world. It seems such a sad thing which, at the same time, comes on the heels of our need for even greater environmental stewardship. The awe and wonder for Creation that was planted within me and the other campers during those summers in the woods seems to me to be at the very heart of what is needed to create stewards of our planet.
As we left Camp Francis Asbury we stopped the car so I could take a picture of the newly painted sign that will, in a few weeks, welcome campers for the summer. It is my hope that those children and youth will find their questions as welcome as I found mine. It is my hope that the leaders will know that the week spent in the woods may just have the power to create a deep impression on both city and country kids alike. Impressions that may lead them to be filled with a wonder and appreciation for what it means to be a part of something bigger than themselves, Creation. Something that just might bring them to change the world for the greater good of all. With dusty feet and sunburned noses, the fire crackling and lighting up their faces, they will hopefully be reminded of the goodness that lives at their very core, something planted by the One who breathes through it all.