“The Hike” by Camp Melton

“The Hike” by Camp Melton

I don’t do a lot of hiking.  In fact, I have only gone a few times, but I like it a lot.  This week I’m going hiking with my dad. We are in Asheville, North Carolina at a Young Life camp called Windy Gap. It is a beautiful place, nestled in a valley up in the Smoky Mountains. It is one of the first times in years that my family is on vacation with no worries and no distractions.  I have my family all to myself.  My Dad has been saying that we are all going to hike up to a place called Pioneer Plunge. It’s a very long hike, moving uphill the entire way. My Mom and sister are not enthusiastic. The day of the hike arrives and my Dad decides that he is going to go alone if none of us want to go with him. I hastily volunteer to tag along. He has been teaching me the whole week to use my gifts of tenacity and determination, and so I decide that this is the perfect opportunity to put those gifts to work.

We start along the trail.  Early on I think to myself that this will be easy.  I have no idea that it is a 5-mile hike and the path is steeper than I thought it would be.  About halfway through, I am feeling the burn. I can tell my dad is too.  I keep telling myself to put one foot in front of the other. I can’t start complaining; I don’t want to be a wimp. We both push ourselves and eventually we make it. Pioneer Plunge is an actual rustic settlement.  It has four cabins and everything is built from natural resources. My Dad is showing me all the old architecture, the bathhouse, the way they keep their food cold, and the way the mountain stream feeds into the pond. I can’t really focus on anything but that pond. I am so thirsty and my Dad tells me that the water is safe to drink.

He lays down in a hammock to rest.  My thirst is getting the better of me. I run as fast as my weak legs can take me and start gulping down the fresh water in the lake. Finally refreshed I turn to see my dad sidling towards me.

“I dare you to jump in there naked,” He says. I chuckle and he starts to smile.
“I will if you will.” I reply.
“Okay,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, why not?”
We both start roaring with laughter.  My dad will never cease to surprise me.

Dressed in nothing more than what we were born with, we quickly realize that the water is colder than we thought.

“Light Without Fire” by Camp Melton

Today’s post is a poem written by my 15 year old son Camp Melton.

I’m watching her; I can’t will myself to look away from her bright beautiful form. I doubt she notices me, I am so dwarfed by comparison, but it does not matter. Just a few more minutes, I tell myself, and then I will scrape the last amount of dignity I have out of the bowl and I will look away. I feel as if I am feeding off of her radiance. If I look away I believe that I will die. I must look away in order to regain my self-respect. I have to stop worshiping the Moon. I may be a flower, but I am not ordinary. I am a rose. The king of flowers. I can defy the Moon. She is false nourishment. I must get back to my true light. With all the determination I have left, I force my gaze away toward the ground. I did it. I looked away, and I am still breathing. There is no hurt. No death. I remain whole. But then I start to feel it…a burning deep within me, and an intense sense of shame. I have bowed before this idol’s borrowed glory and now I am ashamed. What have I done? Is there nothing that is true? The red within my petals withdraws into the ground. My bloom begins to fade. Death sets in.

Just when these thoughts seem most crushing, I feel the change. The Moon is gone and something has replaced it. The Sun has broken in the morning sky, elegant and majestic. He lights up all the earth and I feel myself being fed and renewed. He notices me and my shame is cast away. He looks at me and I know that I am loved. Once starving, my hunger now is quenched. I know what is true and what I will worship. True light. True warmth. True fire. I am weak, but he is strong. I will falter, but I am forgiven.

I was loved, I am loved, and I will be loved.

Yet, I must drink deeply now, for night will come again.