From the Rector…
There’s a bumper sticker that reads, “I would rather be at Camp McDowell.” And while I dearly love the Church of the Ascension, today I have the joy of being at Camp McDowell, taking part in the Province IV Daughters of the King retreat as part of the clergy chaplain workshop. So, today, I would rather be at Camp McDowell!
It’s always a gift to return to “Wonderful, Wonderful Camp McDowell,” even if only for a day. It’s a place to work, pray, and play—all day long. It’s a chance to reconnect with old friends, meet new ones, and perhaps most importantly, to breathe in the fresh air and the Holy Spirit in the heart of God’s backyard.
I’ve been coming to Camp since before I was even an Episcopalian. Growing up Roman Catholic, I didn’t have a church camp to attend. But in third grade, my best friend invited me to come with her to Camp, and the rest is history. I’ve returned to Camp McDowell nearly every year since I was nine years old.
There’s something about this place that speaks to my soul. Whether sitting on the porch of a cabin overlooking the lake as an adult, or telling ghost stories about the Nauvoo Girl as a child, Camp has always held a certain mystery and peace. Yes, snakes and scorpions exist here—but they’re not what you think about. The brittle, anxious, non-linear, incomprehensible world fades into the background. Its dangers don’t disappear, but they don’t feel quite as loud or pressing. And maybe that’s why Camp feels like such a refuge.
As a child, summer camp was filled with canoeing and hiking and jumping off the high dive. It was also the place where I made friends for life. I went to Loyola in New Orleans for undergrad and then transferred to the University of Alabama. There was never more than thirty people in my classes at Loyola. In my first day at Alabama, I walked into my biology lecture hall filled with more than two hundred people. I was immediately overwhelmed. But, within seconds I started hearing people calling my name. A group of my camp friends spotted me and waved me over to them. The anxiety melted away, I had found home.
As an adult, Steve and I attended Cursillo at Camp—a three-day spiritual retreat where lay leaders from across the diocese share the joys of Christian community and a Christ-centered life. Through that experience, we’ve made some of our dearest friends.
Now I get to go to Camp for all kinds of fun things like clergy conference, various workshops and retreats, and even as a member of the Department of Camp McDowell. It is always a wonderful, wonderful experience!
Jesus wandered the hills and countryside of Galilee, often teaching outdoors. I wonder if that’s because it’s simply easier to see God in nature—in the fields and flowers, lakes and trees. Not because God isn’t in the church, or the streets and alleys of the city—but because in places like Camp McDowell, the distractions are fewer. Or at least, they’re a lot more beautiful.
Light and Life,
Candice Frazer+