My Memoir: “Special Forces” at Camp
Theresa G. Hable
Crown College
My Memoir: “Special Forces” at Camp

The morning breeze from Lake Waconia felt fresh and invigorating. Yesterday's rain settled the dust and gave everything a new look. The beautiful array of flowers from the neighbor's garden sparkled with the glistening of fallen raindrops against the sunrise. What a beautiful day for the Special Force Christian Ministry to leave for a camping adventure in McGregor, Minnesota.
I jumped as I heard the door slam. "Hello? Hello? Where are you? We need to get ready; we leave for camp today! You said one more sleep night; then it's camping time!" screams Michael.
I yelled back, "I'm on the patio near the Winkler's garden.
Michael was about 13 years old and full of energy. Kelly, his sister, blind since birth, packed her bags the night before; she was not a morning person. Almost eleven years old with a forceful personality, Kelly did not let her deafness interfere with life. Learning sign language was a skill I had picked up to converse with her; but, she made sure I knew what she wanted.
She demonstrated her eagerness and excitement signing, "I'll be able to pick my seat on the bus!"
The Special Force Christian Ministry consisted of two group homes: one in Waconia, Minnesota, housing eight males with disabilities; the second one located ten miles away, in the small town, Saint Bonifacius, Minnesota, accommodating eight females. The disabilities ranged from brain damage to Multiple Scoliosis. There were many staff personnel: some with disabilities, but not all. Everyone was just waiting for the bus.
Although, Michael and Kelly are riding the bus, their parents, Tom and Barb Harber will be driving separately: they are bringing their nephew, Duane, (who I have not met), and supplies that cannot fit in the trailer behind the bus.
Finally, "The bus is coming!" screams all the members of the group.
"Everybody aboard?" questions the bus driver.
The staff chaperones scramble to account for all their team members. Soon the Special Force Christian Ministry spokesperson announces, "all accounted: on the road we go." Cheers heard from all the campers.
The bus was bigger than the big orange school bus the kids were accustomed to, but not as big as the double-decked Metro Transit bus. It was spotless and equipped with padded seats. A four-hour bus ride needed some comfort and planning to keep sixteen energetic campers somewhat under control. "Patience is a virtue learned." I grew up with that phrase, so I passed the information onto Doris, my camper to chaperone. She led the group with the license plate game finding as many different state license plates as possible. Failure! Wow! Now, that did not work out too well because the attention span of the group might have been shorter than normal or maybe they were not interested. Doris says, "We do not have to be doing something every minute!" She was right: silence IS golden sometimes.
However, counting down the last few miles emerged energy beyond comprehension. I needed earplugs: the crescendo resounded. We were just a mile away; the excitement surmounted. The winding road enveloped in a forest of evergreens; Pine trees felt like we were alive within a Norman Rockwell painting. So surreal: it felt comforting. The smell of pine so intense reminded me of Christmas celebrations.
As we are driving, the first site was well-groomed baseball fields accessible to all campers, especially the ones in wheelchairs. We winded around more corners; out pops a humongous campfire pit. It has got to be twenty-five feet in diameter with small, medium and huge boulders supporting the frame. Circular benches surrounded the pit for sitting comfort; all made of cut out logs, but well sanded and shellacked--less chance of splinters. The next bend was the cabins. No tents, I thanked God for the cabins: tents are fun, but those in wheelchairs might have felt left out. The canteen, the lavatories, and showers surrounded the cabins: all built like log cabins. I felt we were living off the land, like Daniel Boone portrays on his programs. Most importantly was the chapel; a huge cross, altar, and benches carved out of logs gave the feeling of God's nature inside.
Suddenly the bus stops. The campers were running in different directions, without any rhyme or reason. “Where do we go?” questioned the campers. All the chaperones received instructions on the assigned cabins and off we go. All the bags strewed throughout the cabin when bathroom duty called. I was young and naive; somewhat taken by surprise, when dealing with catheter propaganda. Sandy, one of the adult campers had emptied her bag. Humiliated by urine in this plastic container handed to me, I responded, "What do I do with this?" She rudely replied, "Dump it in the toilet—where else?" I was caught off guard, not expecting to deal with catheter responsibilities. Although, she rudely replied, I believe she later realized my innocence. I always remember that moment of humility; it provides comfort for some reason.
Back at the cabin, everybody was settled and ready for experiencing the outdoors. Doris, my assigned camper, was very knowledgeable. Sometimes brain injuries work in mysterious ways. I asked myself, “What was her disability?” Her hygiene skills were immaculate; she seemed very intellectual. However, her brain injury left her with uncontrollable outbursts that did not give any warning signs.
Exhausted from hiking the hills behind the cabin, we washed up, took a power nap, and off to dinner. The next day was chapel time. Every day started with chapel: bringing back elementary-year memories for me, as every school day began with mass. It reinforces the reason we are on earth. I met Duane, my neighbor's nephew from home every morning for the chapel experience. He was quiet at first, but once he opened up: a wealth of information about nothing.
Barb, my neighbor, had introduced us. I did not think anything of it. He was an alcoholic and had gotten into some trouble, but was trying to reform. An alcoholic did not mean anything to me as I had never dealt with that issue growing up. Every morning Duane was right at chapel; his laughter lightened up the conversation. All the campers enjoyed singing the songs. "Amazing Grace" was their favorite. Doris sang with every ounce of energy in her body.
The excitement continued the next day at the softball game. The feeling of contentment surged throughout my body as I watched the wheelchair participants enjoy the game. One of the wheelchair campers, Joe, was up to bat. The pitched ball came right over the plate; he swung and out to the fence the ball towered. What a feeling! The compacted field allowed Joe to touch home plate in record time. A home run: I think he is still smiling.
Many activities involved all the campers, but we improvised the standard camping letter to home because the majority of the campers did not have any family; except the ministry homes. It saddened me to see the campers without anybody to write to, so words of wisdom and encouragement led them to write to someone less fortunate than themselves. Many times children with handicaps do not see themselves differently from others. It appears the adults chaperones were more concerned than the campers. Campers proceeded to write letters to whomever they wanted or drew a picture or whatever creativity transpired. Spelling mistakes were allowed without correction. There is wisdom in encouraging writing by allowing the errors; therefore, building and not stifling writing creativity or desire.
Finally, the night of campfire fun. Everybody marveled at the size of the fire pit. Unfortunately, just as the bonfire blazed higher than one could dream, a bee stung Doris. Not a mosquito, but a bee! She was so upset and worried about missing the camping songs. I told her that worry did not solve anything. If we do not have control over the outcome, fear will stress us out and cause more health problems. Give it to God and relax. After the visit with the nurse, everything was better, except the big lip from the bee sting.
When we got back to the campfire, Duane asked if everything was ok. He proceeded to sit with us, played his guitar, and sang campfire songs. Roasting jumbo marshmallows encouraged fun: some golden brown, others charcoaled, some for smores, and others popped right into mouths. Either way: gooey, delicious, and fun.
Back to cabins for the last night of camping. Where does the time go? The bus will be picking us up tomorrow afternoon. Doris had forgotten all about the bee sting that made bedtime so much easier.
"Rise and shine; it's going home time!" shouted Doris. You couldn't tell she had been stung at all.
After breakfast cleanup, Duane asked if he could talk to Doris and me. I said that would be alright, but did not understand his insistence that we go elsewhere.
We sat down at the campfire site, not too far from the chapel. Duane kept asking questions about God. Doris said, "God loves you and has a plan for you. He forgives you, and if you repent your sins and ask God to be your Savior, you will be part of His family." Wow! (silence) then Duane says, "I want to repent and become part of His family." My heart exploded as this was my first witnessed born-again experience. I offered my congratulations and opened myself up for future support. Part of me wanted to hug him, but that was not my style. Thanks to a camping trip, wisdom will prevail. Totally exhausted, the trip back home allowed an excellent napping opportunity for the campers. The precious memories sketched permanently in all of us, especially Duane, Doris and me. What a day to remember, a group of Special Force Christian Ministry members and leaders joined for a camping experience that undoubtedly will bring many down memory lane. The ministry had a plan; promoting courage, wisdom, and love. As Jesus works in mysterious ways through all of us, the "special forces" guided another person to salvation. Jesus says, "Go, help, share and serve." If you have never been born-again, open your heart to Jesus Christ today: ask Him for "forgiveness of your sins," and “allow Him into your life as your personal Lord and Savior.” These words of determination and experience exemplified salvation. Although, just a volunteer, this camping trip will never be forgotten. Yes, camping can be for everyone! The Special Force Christian Ministry's camping adventure generated “special forces” at camp that year. Amen!