Adam's Camp

Three years ago we took the kids on a 7 mile hike- we had been camping for 3.5 weeks and decided they were ready for a finale hike before we trekked to our new home in the Sonoran Desert. The halfway point was a beautiful waterfall- we were blessed with the sighting of a bull moose and the beauty of the mountains- but the thing that made the hike unforgettable was a couple- they were so good with helping us get the kids back down the mountain

and then the said, "Hey! Are you here for Adam's Camp?"

And that was just the beginning...

We later learned that Adam's Camp partners with Snow Mountain Ranch- a 5,000 acre camp near Rocky Mountain National Park, Grand Lake, and Winter Park. Adam's Camp started 32 years ago- here's an awesome video about what it's all about...

Registration opens in November every year so when we returned to Tucson I set my phone alarm and when it opened I immediately registered.

This was our third summer at Adam's Camp. The first year Bentley was in a more clinical setting with a speech therapist, physical therapist, dance therapist, and musical therapist, as well as, volunteers.

The last two years Bentley has been in the program that is less clinical- he still has goals- but they go on several adventure trips a day and have one overnight.

Next year he will be in the next level which means he'll have three overnights- they'll work heavily on his independence (cooking together and all the other daily tasks that one does) in addition to several adventures a day.

Adam's Camp is probably like many adventure camps across the country- there's high and low ropes courses, a huge tubing hill, hikes, canoes, swimming, bumper cars, the list goes on...

It's not the adventures that keep us coming back... it's the developmental leaps our three kids make while we are up there.

Clayton and Lily attend the sibling program. Again, they do the adventure programs- but in addition they have discussion groups every morning that focus on who they are in the family.

Research and personal observations show that the siblings of kids with disabilities often times come out on top- they are extremely high achievers, talented, and empathetic- but they also feel like all the attention is always on their siblings- that their needs always come second- and that sometimes they're invisible. So while I know that Clayton and Lily are probably gonna turn out alright- I am hyper aware that they have voices and a need to be seen and heard too.

On the last day of camp every year the counselors share the qualities and characteristics of the siblings and the siblings read the letter they have written to their sibling with Down syndrome (we go during DS week every year).

The part of Colorado that we visit has cool mornings in the 40's and highs in the 70's/80's- it's one of the most beautiful places in this country with the Rocky Mountains, the greenery, and so many lakes. Snow Mountain Ranch has some of the kindest youth and staff working all summer. All of these things and more combined would give us enough reason to return- the reason we keep returning is because of the gains that we see in our kids. Research and stories indicate that kids who return to the same places year after year with their families are instilled with a strong family identity- rooted deep. So while David and I would probably prefer a new adventure every summer we know that our kids look forward to Adam's Camp every year. We also see how the the trained staff manage to help Bentley grow exponentially every year.

When it comes to our kids I know we are all trying our best. I have so many doubts about every decision I make- so many tears have been shed about my decisions. On balance I know I am doing my best and that they're gonna grow because of us and in spite of us. There is peace in knowing that some decisions are good ones- and I think our return to Adam's Camp- for at least another year- is one of those decisions I won't regret- I haven't thus far...

what will be

My children were born into community.

They were born into love. 

They were born into chaos- beautiful chaos.

We lived in a community house: Chris + Leigh, Micah, Scott (+ Kristen), Nate, Karla (Kaivon and Kameron). 

We were part of inner city ministry in Detroit, Michigan. First the Van Dyke Place. Later, the corner of Mack and Burns. We had a triple lot with vegetable gardens, chickens, rabbits. A swing set, sand box, and grass abounded. We ran sprinklers, played in the snow, took walks in the rain. Everyday a group of women and I gathered together at the public library, the splash pad, the Science Center, the zoo, backyards, basements, third floors, kitchens, alleys, car trips to Costco, didn't matter- we were together. We changed diapers while sitting on couches, walked on the streets so we could fit all the strollers, traded babysitting, watched the little eyes of our people glow with wonder. 

We talked about theology, sang praises to the King, wrestled with what it all meant. We saw houses get shot up, were next door as homes were robbed, walked to find the house fires and watch the glow. We made friends, had community bbq's, we learned the culture, the history, and the beauty of Detroit. We shared clothes for events, passed books around, toasted over wine, went to birthday parties, found ways to encourage one another- lived a glorious life together. We tried recipes- we cooked vegan, vegetarian, beef, chicken, gluten free- you name the need- we'd find the perfect recipe. 

Easter, Christmas, Thanksgiving- always together. Warm homes, beautiful lights, candles, fires, late nights, new beers, here, try this recipe. 

I had no idea that what we had was so unique. One of the core recently moved away and she is struggling to adjust. Will it get easier, she asks. Easier? You mean will you replace it? Probably not. Easier, perhaps.

We moved into a new home last year. We bought a house with a pool and a big backyard. Other than the obvious move for Bentley it was also in part to invite people in. 

Compared to the life we had in Detroit, few have come. 

Over rice and vegetables at a local restaurant we discussed my perceived loneliness with friends. "Well you've invited us to swim, but I don't want to take advantage of you." 

The words stung heart. "Take advantage of me?"

"Adrienne, you're inviting people to use your stuff, you're not inviting them to be your friend." 

Like The Giving Tree I am begging, "Come friends, come swing from my branches and eat my apples". Come enjoy the gifts that God has given us. And like the boy who wants more- it seems that those I have invited were not looking for a pool or a house or some food- 

I am offering the wrong thing. I am offering things. I am not offering friendship. 

But friendship is what I long for.  I long for for more than a monthly gathering or a weekly meeting. I long for the daily interactions- the texts, the meet ups, the assumptions we will find ways to be together. In part I long to be the center. Not the center like I need the attention- the center like you're welcome here- you're safe in this home.

If you come and need to cry I'll put on a movie for the kids even if they've already watched. 

If you come and you're hungry I'll start naming all the things I have to make you food. 

If you come and you're angry I'll let you rage. 

Come unannounced. 

Come because you're in the neighborhood- come because you aren't. 

Perhaps such a blog sounds like a desperate plea to get friends. 

It's no such thing. 

It's recognition that what we had in Detroit was unique. 

It's a confession that I've offered it all wrong.

It's understanding that as we get older it's harder to develop and maintain friendships. 

It's a fire to ignite us to work harder to find community in between the sundays. 

It's a longing- a truth- that what I want is more and a realization that what we have is enough. 

Sometimes all we need is to put words to our emotions- and see the stories behind it and simply realize that we may never have what we had in Detroit; but also realizing that what we have is something else- its clay remolded. It's a new creation- a new chapter in this book, authored by a God who dearly loves us, knows us, and wants good things for us. 

When we compare what was with what is we miss the opportunities of something new.

The great thief of joy is comparison.

I have been comparing a community past to a community present.

And so today I repent of the desire to create what was

and hold my hands wide open to receive

what will be. 



Amen.