School Dreaming
We were hiking and looking for ginger when he said it. A simple sentence by an eight year-old that's begun an exciting conversation. "I wish I could go to school here."
So do I, I thought. And a dream was planted. We continued that conversation about what a school might look like at Chestnut Ridge. A school focused on learning largely outdoors, by experience, and alongside caring educators.
I'd like to have gone to school at a place like that.
Chestnut Ridge calls forth dreams I would never have imagined on my own. The people, the space, and programs, they all speak to me of the gift of time and a place to grow, to discover ourselves, each other, and the world we share. Every day, this space and community transforms lives in remarkable ways.
The thought that young boy shared has sparked a new dream: The School at Chestnut Ridge.
At the moment, it's a fledging dream. But, I can see how a school might fit into the overall mix of life at Chestnut Ridge. The forest, the lake, and the bog lend themselves to scientific exploration and discovery. The challenge course and a plethora of initiative games suggest a focus on good relationship skills and character. The gardens and animals lend themselves to teaching skills of a bygone era, one which must be resurrected in part if we have any hope of feeding ourselves and our communities in a sustainable manner. Dramas and language. Art and music. Service learning and outdoor education. Learning primarily through experience and hands-on activities.
It makes my educator's heart thump wildly to think about the possibility of a community of learning at Chestnut Ridge. A place where school wouldn't feel like school, but rather a boundless invitation to learn and grow.
So, dream with this young boy, with me, and with others. What would this school look like? What would it take to move from dream to reality? How might this fledging dream take flight?
One in Heart and Mind
Last Sunday, I had the privilege of preaching from Acts 4. At this point in Luke's narrative of the early church, Pentecost is a historical event and groups of believers are moving from word to deed, from belief to faith. (That is how I understand faith - living our lives according to what we profess to believe). As I lived into Luke's words, I found myself lingering and returning to one phrase: "All the believers were one in heart and mind." For real? At first I wondered if Luke might be just a bit prone to exaggeration.
Being of one heart and mind sounds a bit dreamy to me, but Luke reports to us that this kind of solidarity - brought about by a common belief in the resurrection of Christ - is a mark of the early Christian community. Maybe it didn't last very long, but at least for a moment, unity marked the community of believers.
As I've lived with these words, long after the sermon, I realize how much unity, even in diversity, defines the community at Chestnut Ridge. Persons who work, volunteer, and visit here come from a variety of social, economic, educational, and even spiritual places. Yet, here in this special place, we are unified as we live together, be it for a few hours, a few days, or a few years.
What is it that draws us together? It is the belief that the resurrection of Jesus makes a difference in how we live our lives. That is to say, we're all trying to enact our common belief. Without exception, we believe that God is capable of breaking into our lives and changing us and our world.
That is what I see here every day. A child who realizes on the challenge course that listening is more important than talking. A middle schooler who experiences a moment of "awe" that didn't require any batteries. A high schooler who realizes that their identity is not given to them by their peers, but is in truth deeply rooted in Christ. A college student who believes that social justice means we need to consider the needs of others ahead of ourselves. A summer team so qualified they could choose any number of ways to spend their summer, yet they choose to spend it in service to children, youth, each other, and God. Adults who leave renewed by spending time away, and return to the world stronger and more passionate.
We haven't perfected unity at Chestnut Ridge, but it is a worthy goal. To the extent that we find unity based on our belief in the resurrection of Jesus, the love of Christ is made visible in our midst. That folks, is what I believe Luke is talking about.
The Reset Button
I'm about to hit the reset button. Not Chestnut Ridge's, but my own. An occasional ctrl+alt+del is good for the soul.
Odd as it may seem for a camp director, I'm going camping next week. No frills, unless you count the cot and linens. Compared to my usual cocoon-sized backpacking tent, this kind of tent-you-can-stand-up-in is the luxury version of the camping experience. But, it's still camping.
No television. No computer. No phone. No commuting. The lack of so many things that fill the normal days - the noise and business, good as it all is - is replaced with a kind of simplicity that restores the soul.
Conversations, long and unhurried. Leisurely walks and exploratory hikes. The smell of fresh coffee in the morning while the sun comes up. The sound of birds singing their praise. A game of Uno by flashlight. Stories under the moonlight. A time to reconnect by living simply. Immersed in creation and renewing relatationships with my husband, children, and God. A total reset of the system.
It's the gift of time apart, of sabbath. Breaking away to be made whole once more.
Back in a week.
Why I Send My Kids to Camp
It may seem a bit strange that, as a camp director, I was a bit nervous about sending my kids to camp. The first time, I simply sent them "down the hill." (That's Chestnut Ridge lingo for the distance between the director's house where I live and main camp where all the action takes place). Sending them down the hill to camp was a little nerve racking - really. I worried whether they would make friends, have fun, sleep well, and if they would remember to brush their teeth (and if their counselor would remind them - hey, wait! I trained those counselors, of course they would get a reminder). I knew that if they forgot something, I could make the five minute walk to their cabin and drop if off. I would see them every day. Off they went for a week.
Back up the hill, the house felt strangely empty. Quiet, actually. No new piles of clothes accumulated in the laundry - although I knew that was coming on Friday. The sinks in the bathrooms were oddly devoid of splatters and splashes. The number of dishes in the sink dropped dramatically. This confirmed my long-held belief that 1 child does not equal one dish and cup at a meal. Suddenly, I was faced with something I hadn't known since BK (before kids)...I had free time .
So, what's a mom of three to do? In the day-to-day world of being a mom, a wife, and a camp director, the concept of free time falls largely in the realm of fantasy. When I have it, it's usually only enough to squeak in a walk or maybe read a few pages in a book. Now I had whole evenings - blocks of hours - and I could choose my own activity. Not wanting to squander the unexpected gift, I pulled out the photos and memorabilia from the past 12 years and got to work. As I slid pictures into slots and wrote notes about events, birthdays, vacations, and friends, I took stock of the blessings in my life. Thankfulness for my family grew ten-fold that night.
I took one evening to sneak away for a long and scruptuous dinner with my husband. No babysitter necessary. No worries about whether the kids were treating each other alright. We stayed and talked until late in the night. It felt like a first date all over again.
And, I took an evening to have all to myself. I indulged in a long bubble bath, a fuzzy bathrobe, and a good book. Didn't cook dinner. Just put my feet up and relaxed. Really relaxed.
At pickup on Friday, I couldn't wait to wrap my arms around my kids and hear all about their week. (I'd tried to keep a low profile so they could have as normal a camp experience as anyone else). They were so proud of themselves...and I was just a little proud of myself. In our short time away from each other, we'd all grown. I felt renewed and ready to step back into my full-time mom duties. The kids brought home great stories, and a new kind of self-confidence. Suddenly, they were taking more responsibility for their belongings, and helping out around the house. For months, every other conversation mentioned "at camp, we..."
At camp, my kids grew up in the very best of ways. They gained confidence in themselves, trust in others, and a deeper, richer sense of God's love for them as expressed primarily by our summer team. What I didn't expect is that I would have my own camp experience too - a time in my own house where I wandered. I remembered some things about myself and my dreams that renewed me as well. I'm a better mom for it. And, I'll keep sending my kids to camp. My Mamaw used to tell me that, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." I think she was talking about boys at the time, but I'm talking about my kids. I thought I couldn't love them more...and then I sent them to camp...and found I do.