I was asked recently to write about why camp was so important to ME.  What I came up with was a story about how I ended up hugging a wooded box!  Here is that story!

Sometimes when memories come flooding back to me of camp at the Christian Conference Center I shrink to a shorter, thinner, less complicated young teenager who was beginning to understand a little more about God and who I was as a human being.  It is normally the mundane things that trigger these memories – A piece of blackened wood, a long lost trail, a view of an open field.  I have, since those teenage years, counseled at several other church camps across this country but none have triggered the feeling of calm and focus that occurs during these retro-moments of life. 

However, I have never felt the tug to hug an inanimate object like I did during a Monday cleaning session in October.  Seven years had gone by and never once did I attempt to turn over what looked to be a box- step designed to help people reach a higher shelf in the “paper closet.”  Out it came, a 2 by 4 foot box made of plywood.  It was placed on one of our round dining tables, dirt and cobwebs intact.  When my eyes first caught a glimpse of this game I immediately reverted back to a time when I stood before it, pulled the string and let the spindle like device bounce from wall to wall randomly seeking a place to stop moving. 

In that moment, I fell to my knees and I reached out and gave it hug.  A hug – That’s right, Bill Spangler-Dunning, known to be frugal with hugs, hugged an inanimate object.  On my knees with cobwebs now in my hair I found myself reflecting on all the things that have made me who I am today.  I thought of counselors who had given me advice or simply believed in me enough to tell me I was destined to do something wonderful with my life.  I relived in my mind full campfires in which directors told stories of their lives and how if they could get me to remember only one thing it was that God Loves You!  I pictured again the very moment that I felt God give me a plan for my life and it occurred during my 8^th grade year at Chi Rho Camp.  I remembered friends whom I wish even to this day that I could see again. 

What does camp mean to me?  It means my whole life!  I have done and will do many more things in my life time but Camp at the Christian Conference Center will continue to be at the center and the heart of all of them.