Does the term “Wakon’Da-Ho” mean anything to you? Most likely not, as most people have never even heard of it! No, it’s not an expletive you shout when you stub your toe; it’s my beloved church camp and it translates to “The Great Spirit Rises”. I can definitely say I have felt the sweet, sweet spirit in this place.
You can find this camp down in my old Kentucky home; specifically, it’s in Liberty, KY (one of the most patriotic names for a town I can think of, right behind Independence, KY). I’ve made the drive south to this place more than once or twice in my short lifetime, and I always get a case of the butterflies as I drive up the winding gravel road. I have fond memories of this place; some memories are significant and some are simply fun, but they’re all good.
Let us start with the "simply fun" memories. Church camp was not only my introduction to stargazing (which has become one of my favorite pastimes), but it was also my introduction to star-tripping. Basically, you spin around a ton of times while staring at a star, then you fall down. It’s stupid and it’s fun — a great combo.
Of course, there were also the “messy games”. Whether these involved baby food or slip’n’slides, the shower afterwards was always very welcome. The basketball and volleyball tournaments always stirred up a bit of healthy competition, and the excitement of getting past the first round usually outweighed the disappointment of losing in the second round. At this point, I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t dedicate a special shout-out to my basketball team (the cut-off tees and short-shorts gave us a huge advantage).
Camp food, of course, is also amazing, and campfires were only complete when accompanied by camp songs (p.s. you can’t ride in my little red wagon). Oh! I almost forgot to mention the best hangout spot, the “water cooler” of camp: the four-square court.
Of course, love and community may be viewed as being religious, but there were also more typical religious moments. Vespers was probably my favorite part of any day. It involved congregating into a small enclosure in the woods, sitting on wooden pews, singing mellow hymns, and listening to a short sermon. While sitting, you could listen to the crickets and frogs chime in, and you could look up at the stars.
Mornings included a few minutes of private, silent reflection. During this time, people went off to different parts of the camp and spent some time alone, listening and praying. Small groups were a time for opening up to people, sharing insights and opinions and growing close within a smaller community.
Despite all these wonderful moments and memories, I believe there will be one person who will always stand out among them: Michael Gatton. Every year I went to the high school camp, he was the speaker. Every morning, he would deliver a sermon. He always had wonderful themes for his talks, and he always had the funniest, most touching stories to tell. He didn’t only stand out when speaking at the pulpit, though. He is extremely personable and makes you feel special and important whenever he talks to you.
Although my days as a camper are over, I am looking forward to counseling (coming up this month!). This camp is a special place, and it truly is where the Great Spirit rises. Every time.
