Homecoming

What was I feeling as I looped around the exit ramp and headed South?  Nervousness?  No that wasn't it.  Excitement? That wasn't the right word either.  I wasn't used to approaching Silver Lake this way.  I would drive North from the coast of Connecticut.  Even though it had been fifteen years since my last visit, I could drive that path without a second thought.  But I was approaching the camp from a new direction.  Was this the right way?  Slowly certain landmarks began to take on a vague familiarity.  As the miles went by, the vagueness diminished and the familiarity increased.  I was at ease when I crested the hill and looked down across the valley into the foothills of the Berkshires and straight at Mudge Pond.  Now I was excited, and a little nervous as I chuckled to myself (the first of many quiet chuckles in the coming days) as once again I thought about the folly of naming the camp "Mudge Pond Conference Center."  Someone was thinking when they came up with the aptly descriptive "Silver Lake."

Every so often, as I sit at the farmhouse computer, a car pulls onto Pilgrim Lodge Lane and a middle age man or woman knocks at the door. "I used to be a camper here, and I was wondering if it would be OK if I just walked around down in camp for a while."  I always welcome these pilgrims with open arms and smile warmly because I know what it is that brought them back these many years later.  They return to remember where they came from, observe how PL had affected their life choices, meditate and analyze those choices, and use the trip as a measuring stick for their next step.  Usually as they drive out, they stop and knock again and enthusiastically share with me why Pilgrim Lodge and their experiences were so very important to them.  It's clear they have just faced some inner demon and successfully conquered it.  I usually invite them in and ask them all about their PL experience.  It is one of my favorite things to do.

But now, ready or not, it was my turn.

As part of the board of directors of the UCC Outdoor Ministry Association (OMA) I am fortunate to travel to UCC camps all over the country, from Oregon to Texas to Florida and more.  I guess it never occurred to me that we might choose to meet at Silver Lake.   I was late for the first meeting, so instead of walking around the site I drove straight through to what was always my favorite building: the Glen. But as I passed through the camp I could not escape the sense that everything felt... smaller.  I walked in and the familiar sweet smell of soft wood and fires gone by hit me as I was embraced by my colleagues.  I wasn't really sure why I started welling up.  Was it the warmth of being surrounded by these friends who had been such a blessing over the past six years helping me find my way at Pilgrim Lodge, or just simply being here in this spot?  "I'm having a moment" I quipped hiding my real emotion in feigned sentiment.  The meeting went on as I sat on the couch and looked around.  I was prepared for monstrous changes which had been described to me by others but was really quite impressed with how exactly the same it seemed.  

I began to realize why I was feeling whatever it was I was feeling on the drive.  This was my camp.  Since arriving at Pilgrim Lodge I had made a whole lot of changes.  Changes to the site, to the program, to the policies.  Much like in a church setting I was aware that changing a beloved site like Pilgrim Lodge was a tricky thing.  I had heard all the arguments, I had been able to identify with the emotion. I tried to be understanding and hear but also move ahead while embracing those who struggled.  Now I was the one facing the transformation of holy ground.  Would I be as intractable about the camp where I was first a camper; where my church came every year for a cherished weekend; where I served on staff for seven summers; where I met my wife; where I made the decision to enter seminary?  It was role reversal at its most brutal and this it seemed, was the moment of truth.

I looked up at the new walls that encased the balcony.  "Well that's certainly a lot safer," I thought. "More privacy too."   My eye went to the section of balcony still opened and saw that the railing was higher and now there were a series of balusters much like on the newer section of boardwalk at PL.  Another chuckle.  Suddenly I was in seventh grade and jumping off that very balcony with mounds of camp mattresses piled up below.  Now those balusters would be in the way.  "Sure, it looks different, I thought, "but it's up to code." 

I breathed easier. Like I had passed some sort of test I could look at the new handicapped bathrooms and the dormer put on the side of the building and recognize the logic and need for upgrading while appreciating the fact that the feel of the place was essentially the same.  Good work. 

By the time the meeting was over  I had clicked into OMA mode.   Laughing and enjoying my friends, listening to the particular problems of other directors and committee members while trying to offer perspective and craft possible solutions.  

I spent some time with an old friend, Tim Hughes. Tim and I had worked on staff at camp and now he, along with his wife Anne are the newly appointed directors of Silver Lake.  They attended Pilgrim Lodge as counselors this past summer when I was the dean of 'Arts Alive.'  They are the perfect choice for the job, and yet, I have been praying for them both because they have a long road ahead of them.  The past seven or eight years have seen some difficult times at Silver Lake.  Just over a year ago, the camp went though three tragedies in as many months.  After a few minutes with Tim and Anne, I knew that in spite of the challenges ahead, they would steer the camp and the program to health. They continue to be in my prayers.  Being around their raw enthusiasm and desire to succeed reminded me of coming to PL.  Of course, they have the advantage of knowing the place and the program. 

The next morning we had a break so I set off to a nearby town to visit Alden and Ruth. Alden was the director of Silver Lake for over thirty years and they are both mentors for me.  I'm not sure how they have escaped time, but they looked just the same.  They welcomed me into their home, offered me lunch and for the second time in the weekend, brought me close to tears  by a simple and heartfelt grace.  Somehow in that moment of thankfulness, all of their spiritual and theological grounding came rushing back to me and I realized it was a pillar of my faith that I often just take for granted.  Alden and Ruth have visited Deborah and I in Maine and were eager to hear about how things were going at Pilgrim Lodge.  I can't imagine how it must be to pull away from a ministry you have cared for such a long time.  They too shared their optimism for the future of SLCC (Silver Lake Conference Center).  We also reminisced a bit, Alden reminding me of when I came to interview him for a confirmation class project. I brought my tape recorder and earnestly set about what I thought was a serious first class interview.  How fun it was to see back almost thirty years through their eyes.  I can remember Alden looking at the tape recorder and saying, 'Uh, turn that thing off a minute' while he composed himself.

In a way, that trip to interview Alden at 14 years old was pivotal to my entire life.  Because of that moment, I stood out to Alden and three years later Alden called me up to be on summer staff at SLCC.  I started washing dishes and cleaning toilets and over the next ten years worked as a waterfront director, camp photographer, on grounds, as a program director, staff supervisor and eventually was licensed as an assistant director.  My camp involvement introduced me to countless ministers and spiritual seekers.  My early faith was tested and developed in an environment where it was OK to risk and talk about matters that were truly important.  My camp involvement lead me to involvement with the UCC conference, ultimately serving as an intern on conference staff.  

And it was there that I decided to enter seminary. I'd been off staff a few years and then returned.  In the meantime I graduated from college, toured Europe, and lived a year in Boston.  I was not sure which direction I was going and people could tell I wasn't myself.  Each morning before breakfast I'd venture off to a spot by the lake and read "Original Blessing" by Matthew Fox.  As the summer progressed I began to think that maybe there actually was a Christianity I could embrace.  I was visiting my parents on a day off in early August.  I woke up and without any forethought walked across the room, picked up the phone, called Yale Divinity School and asked if it was too late to register.  I could, if I got all my material to the admissions office in two days.  I hung up the phone and realized I was still half asleep.  After breakfast with my folks, I called Alden and told him and he gave me the next three days which I spent driving to New Haven, to my college in New Jersey and writing my application.  Three weeks later I was enrolled.  Alden and Ruth always treated me like a son and took great delight in my accomplishments.  God had blessed me with the best parents in the world so to have mentors like Alden and Ruth as well was truly an amazing advantage.

Meanwhile, back in the 21st century the meetings went on, including one between my OMA board and the Silver Lake board where they "picked our brains" about Outdoor Ministries.  Again, an odd role reversal as I knew about 80% of them from long ago. But between the meetings, as we walked the camp and the buildings on our way to meals or other locations, that  was when the real flashes of memory came.  

At Silver Lake, 1981

There I was a camper with all my friends.  

There I was having a passionate debate about inclusive language. 

There I was counseling a camper and realized I needed to get more training.  

There I was singing makeshift karaoke long before we knew what that word meant.  

There was my first kiss.  

There was my first faulty septic system experience

There I was singing at a campfire.  

There was a difficult break up.  

There someone had inflated the six foot diameter "Earthball" in the middle of our room. Removing it, we got wedged - me on one side of the hall, my buddy Giff on the other, and the Earthball between us pinning us both to the wall.  Then we started laughing and we just could not get unstuck.  

There I was showing a slide show to my church on a church retreat.

There I was filling in for a dean that didn't show.  

There I was sneaking over the wall into the camp store to buy candy when Ruth walked in.  

There my friend Paul and I opened our hearts, took a risk and found out we were not alone, and not so different.

There I was helping build the outdoor chapel with my father.

There I was directing the camp show.  

There I was putting a group into a stream for a camp photo.

There I was sitting on the loading dock having a late night talk.  

There my friends Charlie, Giff, Kenny and I were sitting, talking into the wee hours of the morning listening to Pink Floyd with black paper covering the lights of the stereo so we wouldn't be found out.

There I was worshiping and heard ee cummings for the first time

There I  was laying in the wet grass watching the stars with someone I loved

And in all these times and places I felt, and knew the presence of God.

It was when we walked into the social hall (the summer dining/program hall) that the real epiphany of this weekend came.  There are some who have re-visited history on this point, but when I first arrived at Pilgrim Lodge I made a pact with myself.  I would NOT mention Silver Lake the entire summer.  Not at all.  As years went by and I became more comfortable, I relaxed about this absolute.  I know that much of my time at Pilgrim Lodge has been learning those traditions and customs unique to PL while at the same time applying some of the training I had learned from Alden about safety, and the theological and spiritual impact of Outdoor Ministries.  It was a balancing act to be sure, one that became more natural as the years at PL went by.

Still, there was some little nagging part of me that always wondered if I was living up to Alden's standard.  I must have called him twice a week that first summer through the staff rebellions, walking cooks, run away campers, and a whole lot of furrowed brows.  I knew I had tried to take what was best of both worlds and blend them but we humans are creatures of self doubt.  Most men spend a good deal of their adult life wondering if they are living up to Daddy.  I was unconsciously trying to live up to Silver Lake.  In that moment of walking into the social hall and seeing where much of the drama of my early years had taken place it came rushing up to me like a windy truth.  I'd come home.  

And home was Pilgrim Lodge.  

Now clearly I mean no disrespect to SLCC.  After all, I have just chronicled my past, its influence on the trajectory of my life, and on my present choice of ministry.  I will always pray for blessings on SLCC and be thankful for its impact on my life.  As much as it will always be a part of me, I am now of Pilgrim Lodge.  It's as if, at 42 years old, the training wheels had finally come off.  And it wasn't as though I felt them come off, I looked behind me and realized they had been off for years.  OK, maybe a more empowering metaphor would be that the solid rocket boosters have fired and now I was flying in space.  

When I started at PL I felt that my whole life had led up to that point: childhood in the church,  Silver Lake, College, Graduate School, Seminary, my work in social work, in the theatre, and in ministry - each had been part of the seasoning needed for Outdoor Ministry (OK, so I could have used a few years at a trade school, but I'm not complaining).  But now, after my visit back to my old stomping grounds, I felt that even my first six years at PL are prologue as we move toward our fiftieth anniversary and the next phase for Pilgrim Lodge.  

At the end of the film The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Frodo Baggins reflects

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life?
How do you go on?
When in your heart, it begins to become clear, 
you can't go back"

and yet, as Tolkien himself wrote "The road goes ever on and on." 

I drove out the gate and north toward Maine, and with Mudge pond in my review mirror, I smiled and gave thanks. For the United Church of Christ, for our multitude of camps and programs and the spirit that binds us, for Silver Lake and all the many souls I've met through its ministry, for my family, and with a renewed sense of purpose, for Pilgrim Lodge. 

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