Stale Bread - a sermon

Back when I was a kid, we had to read a story in school -- I’ve tried to find it but no luck. The gist of the story was that a boy wanted to buy a soda, and was going to pay for it by returning bottles for deposits (or something like that). As he went along, he discovered that he was a bottle short and couldn’t afford the soda. But he also knew the old store owner would just tell him to put the bottles in back and would never count.

So he went, dropped off the bottles, and collected the soda he’d been tasting all the way there. On his way home, the soda tasted flat, sour, unpleasant. All because it was guilt ridden.

This is not all that different from the story of David and Bathsheba which we’ve been reading the past few weeks. David gets Bathsheba, but now he’s faced with the prophet Nathaniel and forced to acknowledge that HE is the one who has done wrong. He is faced with his own guilt, and the fruit of his sin is bitter indeed.

Not that guilt is the only way to make the fruits of our labor so bad -- or to use another metaphore, to make our daily bread go stale.

There’s another book in the Old Testament called Ecclesiastes, and in it, the author essentially says that everything is meaningless. “Vanity of vanities,” he writes. “All is vanity. What do people gain from all the toil? There is nothing new under the sun.” For him, life is empty, meaningless, dry, stale. And this supposedly from the king -- from a guy who has everything.

But then, when did having everything ever bring us meaning or joy or purpose. I’ll admit, having enough food in our bellies and having sufficient shelter from the elements is a good thing, but beyond that, what’s the point?

Sometimes we delude ourselves into thinking that having stuff will give us meaning, will be enough to make life all right. We work hard and finally burn ourselves out. We invented vacation to take care of that (and I’m all for vacation!), but even that doesn’t suffice.

Jesus found the crowd he had fed to be in that frame of mind. They were thrilled with him because he had filled their bellies. They wanted to make him king because he could produce food out of nowhere. This was impressive.

It was like Moses who gave the people manna in the wilderness. THAT was impressive. And let’s face it, if someone said to us, “I’ll give you guaranteed endless and sufficient food forever,” we’d sit up and take notice.

But Jesus says this food -- even manna -- is just stale bread. Or at least, it will turn stale because it is, ultimately, just stuff. It’s temporary, fleeting, dust.

The bread we crave will go stale before we can ever fully appreciate it. Because like David, like the author of Ecclesiastes, like the boy in that story, like the crowd in the gospel the bread we crave is material bread. It gives no meaning, no purpose, no life.

But Jesus, unlike Ecclesiastes, which finally just ends with a resigned note to do one’s duty, gives life. He says, “I am the bread of heaven. Come to me and you will never hunger again. You will never thirst again because what I give will never go stale.”

What Jesus gives is honest and loving and eternal -- it is nothing short of God’s abiding love. He says that whoever eats the bread he offers will live forever -- not merely exist or survive but LIVE. His bread never loses its taste, remains forever fresh.

To take in the bread of heaven is to become part of Christ’s body, to enter into the divine. As mere humas, we have to do so with tiny little bites because we can’t handle God’s fullness. But we’re invited to take part in that eternal bread. Whether any of us does or not is up to each of us individually. Bon appetit. Amen.

Fear and Loafing - A Sermon

If you have not heard the good news, I am delighted to share it with you now: Vacation Bibel School is over! No, really, it was a fantastic week with kids enjoying themselves so much that I’ve received at least two e-mail from parents asking us to keep their children for the rest of the summer! Of course, I mean that the children, asked why VBS could not go on longer.

In all seriousness, there was a special feel to VBS this year, and I think part of it was the phenominal work that so many people put into it, and the remarkable faith that the volunteers expressed. Twice, I went to the volunteers and said, “I don’t know, gang, we may have to cancel.” Twice they said to me, “We can do this, and we want to.”

My fear was that we were competing with bigger churches, using the same program during the same week (don’t ask me how that happened). My other fear was that we didn’t have enough staff or enough kids to justify the work. Sometimes, pastors need to hear words of courage from their parishioners, and that’s what I got from this amazing group.

All I can say is, when it looked to me like the spiritual cupboard was bare, people here found bread to spare.

By the way, four kids actually attended another church’s version of Camp E.D.G.E. in the morning and ours in the evening. Their parents told us that they really loved how even though they were the same programs, they were completely different. So as exhausted as I am by the week, I’m also thrilled.

Now, the kind of fear that I experienced was the kind that said, “I can’t do it. This will fail. Woe is me.” But you know other fears. The fear of David in today’s Old Testament: “I’m going to get caught!” Or the fear of the disciples in the Gospel which can roughly be translated as, “Eek! A ghost!”

All that fear, when you think about it, is rather silly. I mean, King David’s is justifiable because he knows he’s going to get into trouble if he gets caught. And with all his experience with God, he ought to know that he can’t hide what he did from God. But instead, he decides to do even worse harm by committing murder. He is so focused on what’s good for David that he ignores God and God’s people altogether. I’m guessing we’ve all been there. It’s not a good place.

But then, no fear feels good. The disciples were afraid of a ghost even though they have just returned from a mission trip in which they were healing the sick and casting out demons! They’re terrified of what they think is a ghost even though Jesus just fed 5,000 people with a couple of loaves and fishes! Why did they not get it? Are they that slow?

On the other hand, don’t we have enough experience with the disciples to know the answer to that question?

On the OTHER hand, we have even more experience with Jesus -- with God in general -- than David and the Disciples. We’ve heard their stories and seen God’s love and power for millenia. We -- or I should say I -- ought to know that all things are possible with God, that when we are doing God’s will, fear is generally misplaced.

It’s true that we can’t know how things will turn out when we start something new. But we don’t have to, either. The disciples had no idea that they would be able to cast out demons -- but Jesus told them to, so they did.

They had no idea that five loaves and a few fishes could feed 5,000, but Jesus said, “Make them sit down,” so they did.

Yet even so, we shriek in fear at things that we think might embarrass us or expose us to harm or just overwhelm us. We forget the lesson of the loaves just as quickly as we forget the lesson of the cross. And we forget God’s promise.

That promise is that God will feed us with what we need to do the work we’ve been given on this earth. And God will never abandon us but will love us always.

That might not seem like much, but it is enough to drive away fear. We have enough to do the job. That’s all that’s promised, and that’s all that’s needed. We might not know exactly what the job is or how it’ll turn out, but we can always move forward knowing God is with us.

Which makes my fear about VBS seem all the sillier. Fortunately, God knows our fears,forgives them, and helps us move beyond them. Because the thing we can trust most is that God loves us always, and love forgives even our lack of faith and our fear. Amen.

Sheep Without a Shepherd (or a GPS) - A Sermon

It’s summer, and like a lot of people in this high-traveling season, I’ve made a new friend. This friend helps me a lot but never shouts. Whenever I bring him along on a trip, he keeps me on my toes and generally makes sure I get where I’m going.

I’d like you to meet “Tim,” Yes, my GPS.

It’s not that I ever got LOST or anything before I met Tim. It’s just that finding my way home from work is so much easier now. Besides, now I don’t have to worry about missing exits or even gas stations, since Tim knows there those are, too.

He’s not perfect. Once he told me to turn off onto an exit that was closed. But all in all, I like never having to pull into a gas station and asking, “Where am I?”

Wouldn’t it be great if we had a GPS for our lives? You know, “Apply for job at this factory. Then, tell old boss to take a hike.” Or you’re walking along when someone you want to avoid approaches. You don’t see them, but Tim saves the day: “Turn around as soon as possible.” Listen to Tim. He’ll guide your life.

But for now, we still often feel lost and confused in this life. Some of us feel that way MOST of the time. And when you’re LOST you’re also often SCARED.

This is nothing new. Even before the days of GPS and Mapquest, people were getting lost on the roads of their lives. Confused and frightened, that’s our natural state it seems. And it’s usually in those states that we do silly things that get us in trouble.

Look at King David in the Old Testament. He’s going along in his new kingdom rather nicely, when he gets this idea of building a temple for God. God comes back to him and says, “Why are you doing this? Who asked you to do that? Just keep to the path you were on.” Of course, David keeps getting off the path, but fortunately for him, God keeps bringing him back.

Or look at Jesus in today’s Gospel. He saw that very thing in the people. He said they were like sheep without a shepherd. Let me tell you, sheep without a shepherd can very quickly equal lost, confused and frightened because sheep aren’t that bright (as we all know). And because they were so lost, he had compassion on them and gave them what they needed.

What he gave them was guidance. He taught them. Not so much in the “Do the right thing” sense as in the “come closer to your Father” sense. That is, showing what really matters in life. Because often we get lost by forgetting what is most important in life, forgetting what our goal is -- and the path.

Yes, he healed them and fed them because Jesus is God incarnate, and that means Jesus is love. But then, LOVE is our goal and love is our path. Unfortunately, Love is a goal and a path that’s easy to lose, because it’s a narrow and winding path with many obstacles.

So, the closest thing we have to a GPS for life is Jesus because he will always show a life that is pointed toward God and one that will always act toward others in a loving manner. When his disciples were tired, he asked them to rest -- sure wish more of US would do that with our employees and families. When the sheep were confused, even though he himself was exhausted, he taught. And when they were frightened because they thought he was a ghost, he calmed them.

Best yet, when they went wrong -- or when WE go wrong -- he forgives. And shows us the way back to him. Tim can’t forgive. The best he can do is say, “Turn around as soon as possible.”

By the way, did you know the word for “repent” is “turn around”?

I bring this up because today we have two baptisms, and in the baptismal covenant, one of the questions we ask is, “when you fall into sin, will you repent and turn to the Lord?” Will you return to the path? Will you listen to the voice that guides you? Will you follow Jesus?

Being baptized is a funny thing where we essentially ask people to join our group of travelers who are all following the same path, listening to the same voice. It is a group that understands just how lost we are without our shepherd, without God incarnate.

When we are baptized, we become part of the Body of Christ. We become sheep WITH a shepherd, we bind ourselves to God’s love and mercy. We’re not naive about what that means. God doesn’t say, “Turn right at next exit to find that dream house.” God stays with us and reminds us, “You’re getting off the path of Love, turn around as soon as possible.”

It might seem that most of the time God remains silent, that Jesus’ words in scripture are pretty much all we have. But then, God has given us more than a mere voice in a box. God has given us each other, too, and we are here to help along that road. I pray that you will be active parts in helping guide our newest members.

And that you, like sheep WITH a shepherd, will always turn to the Lord of life, who is our goal and our path, which, of course, is LOVE.

God, Life and Everything - "The Fulcrum"

I write a biweekly column called "God, Life, and Everything" for the Hudson Valley News. The title reflects the broad scope I want to take. Everything in life falls under the eye of God, and if we watch carefully, we can catch a glimpse of God in it all.

I am sitting on the fulcrum of summer programming. Harry Goodpeople told me so.

He came to visit the other day and sat on my porch drinking a soda as he watched the rain. “Lucky for you that you were in North Carolina all last week,” he said. “Nothing but sun.”

“True,” I replied. “Ninety degrees in the shade and digging postholes all day. My son had it worse: he was on a tin roof all day.”

Harry would have none of it. He laughed at my complaint and said, “The rest of us have been enduring northern rain and work even when it was supposed to be warm and sunny. So what if you got hot? You had sun! And I bet you got to play some, didn’t you?”

Again, it was true. The group of eleven that I went with to North Carolina -- remember I wrote about going to Towel Camp -- worked each morning then cut out around 2:00 pm to take showers and rest. Most of the teenagers played football or threw a frisbee. The work team I was in charge of opted for ice cream after showers. I ate a lot of ice cream.

But we worked hard, too. Building, repairing, cleaning. I’ve bored so many people with reports of our mission trip that I’m afraid to say anything more. Except that now our trip is over, and we are rushing headlong into our next event.

That’s where Harry Goodpeople came in. While he wanted to talk about fishing (even though he knows I don’t fish), all I could talk about was Vacation Bible School. It’s next week, and even while we’re still cleaning out the Towel Camp van, I’ve been diving headfirst into VBS. Harry sipped soda while I paced the porch and talked of tents, registrations, games and songs for the kids.

I paced the porch and went on endlessly: “The recreation person doesn’t know what he’s doing yet, the CITs aren’t trained, the bible stories are still ragged…”

He held up his hand.

“You, my friend, are on the sitting on the fulcrum of summer programming.” I stopped short and cocked my head in confusion. “You’ve filled your summer with nothing but activity, and now you don’t know whether you’re coming or going.”

“But VBS is so important,” I protested. “It’s our opportunity to share the gospel with the community.” He snorted.

“Sure, but take it easy,” he said. “Sometimes what you need to do is take a deep breath and slow down. You just finished a big project. You’ve got one more real soon. But today you can breathe. You can look back at a job well done on one side, and look forward to a job you’re going to enjoy and through which you’ll touch young lives. Enjoy the moment, because it’s fleeting.”

“But we’re not ready! What if it falls apart! What if my volunteers fall through. What if I mess up!”

The hand went up again.

“It’ll be what it needs to be.”

I don’t know when Harry got so smart. Usually, I’m the one giving him advice. But as I quit pacing and sat down in an Adirondack chair, I could feel my racing nerves slow down and the stress ease up. Weight lifted from my shoulders.

“It’ll be what it needs to be,” I repeated.

“Sure,” said Harry, taking another relaxed sip. “Just take a moment to admire your work, the work of others, and God’s quirky sense of efficiency that never seems in a hurry to get much done.”

“It’ll be what it needs to be,” I said one last time, as if to brand it on my brain. And that’s right. VBS is stressful, and even while my mind is still buzzing about our mission camp last week, it looms ahead. We sit on the fulcrum of activity. But to know that it will be what it needs to be, no matter what that might be, is sheer freedom.

“There, isn’t that better?” Harry asked. And it was. He went inside and returned with an iced tea.

Our VBS is from Tuesday, July 21 - Friday July 24 (5:30 - 8:00 pm) and Saturday, July 25 (10:00 am - 12:30 pm). Cost is $15/child. Call 229-2820 for registration.

Dangerous Dancing - a Sermon

It is my grandmother’s fault that I can’t dance. Her, and the Methodists.

Inside, I’m Fred Asataire, but outwardly, I look like a Walrus trying to get back to the sea or a chicken trying to take flight.

I blame my grandmother, of course, because she was … a Methodist. Not just any Methodist, of course, but a country Methodist. Of course, they did not allow alcohol, but they didn’t believe in movies or dancing. Especially dancing was dangerous because it led to, well, all sorts of things.

Since Granny never danced, my Dad never danced, and since he never danced, I was deprived of rhythm in my life. Dancing. Do it at your peril.

Now, you would have thought that my grandmother got this idea about dancing from the bible, and if you read the Old Testament and Gospel today, you might think she had a point. The dancing in each of these had a pretty bad outcome.

But, of course, the dancing back then was just as innocent as it is today despite all those terrible things Granny imagined it was guilty of. The dancing was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Take a look at the Gospel for a moment.

King Herod has imprisoned John the Baptist because John criticized Herod’s marriage to Herodias, who just happened to still be married to Herod’s brother Phillip. Got that? But at a birthday party, Herodias’ daughter dances beautifully for him -- the way I do inside, I’m sure -- and is rewarded with a promise of anything she wants, up to half his kingdom.

The girl may have been a great dancer, but she wasn’t very bright. She had to go to her mother and ask what she wanted! Of course, Herodias knew: John the Baptist’s head on a platter. Personally, if I were the girl, I’d have taken a chalet on the Mediterranean. Either way, dancing gets a bad wrap. It was all that darn Herodias’ fault.

Things are even more of a soap opera in the Old Testament. There, King David finally brings home the ark of the covenant and dances in ecstasy as it’s brought into his city. Any king would probably have done the same thing. But his wife Michal sees him from her window and despises him. Why is she such a party pooper?

Don’t be too hard on poor Michal. She and David actually loved each other at one point. But that was when Saul was king, and he only allowed her to marry David because he thought he could use David’s love for Michal to get David killed. As a bride-price, he required David to go get 100 Phillistine foreskins. Saul assumed David would die in the attempt, but David succeeded, and Sau was forced to give her to David in marriage.

But soon David had to flee for his life from Saul. While on the run, David married two other women who are kind to him, and Saul gave Michal to another man to be his wife.

Upon returning and gaining the throne (after battle with Saul in which Saul is killed), David reclaimed Michal. There’s no description of how she felt about it, but just think: when he fled, she was his only wife, and her father was still alive. Now he comes back with other wives - and his army is responsible for her father’s and brother’s deaths. That’s got to put a crimp in the relationship.

So is it any wonder she might find an excuse to publicly despise him? When David brings the ark home with ecstatic dancing -- in which he is barely clad -- she confronts him -- just after the section we read in church -- and argues that he danced nearly naked in front of the servant girls. It was unseemly for a king, she said. She blamed the dancing -- but it’s clear there was a whole lot more to it.

Now you might be thinking, so what? David and Michal lived a loveless life after that, big deal. But for the writer, it was because he ends Michal’s story by saying she died without having children. She was Saul’s last child. No children meant Saul’s line came to an end. It was over for Saul just as it was over for John the Baptist.

These two dancing stories result in tragic ends. But the dancing is innocent! Itjust allows us to see into the soap operas that so often populate the bible. It helps us realize that these were real people, real stories that were complex and conflicted. Even if the stories were tweaked by their authors, it’s real human drama. And that means that they are more like us than we want to imagine. Of course, that also means that we, like they, are dependent on God’s love far more than our own righteousness. Or our ability to dance. Amen.

We're Back - A Sermon

Well, we’re back.

Like the disciples returning from their mission, the campers are back from Towel Camp. However, and I don’t mean to disappoint, we brought more than a staff on the trip. We took money (that you helped us raise) and boots and extra clothes. In fact, we took as much as we could cram into the Scooby Doo van.

I’m not sure how many demons we cast out, but I know we anointed the sick and the troubled. That’s what we do on mission trips like this. We go out to comfort the afflicted. We go out to heal those in pain -- maybe not physical healing, but healing in the soul. That and we eat a lot. If you were a member of my work group, you ate ice cream, too. Every day.

Rest assured, the young people you sent out to North Carolina last week did you proud. They worked hard and looked for more work when they were done. They sat with people who had nobody to care about them, and they cared. One group talked an older -- and quite stubborn -- woman into going to the hospital when they noticed something wrong with her. Although it took awhile to convince her, she went and eventually discovered she had to have surgery.

While we were away, our young people -- like those disciples -- led worship, read the scriptures, reminded me more than once at meals that “We have to pray,” actually sang hymns, and even stood along the street one evening holding up “Honk if you love Jesus” signs. Apparently, in the south, this is perfectly acceptable even for Episcopalians.

At this point, some parents might say, “That’s not my child you’re talking about.” It’s like school when a teacher says, “Your child is such a delight in class,” and you look at the name on the address to make sure they’re talking about your kid.

They go out and do great things, but it’s hard for us to see it. These are kids who run in the parish hall when we say “walk.” These are kids who can’t keep their rooms clean. These are kids whom we’ve known since they were knee high to a grasshopper, so they can’t be going out doing great things.

But they are. They grow up. They spread their wings.

It happens to everyone. I remember one of the few times I ever preached at my home church. Bob, who’s about my dad’s age, came up shaking his head in disbelief and said, “Huh. That wasn’t bad. Who’d have figured?” And walked away shaking his head.

Young people go away, they change -- whether at college or at camp. One of the reasons young people go away when they reach a certain age is because back home people still see them as children when what they want is to grow and change. On our way home yesterday, we ran into a church youth group from Ottawa, Canada and started talking. They were also coming from a mission trip in North Carolina! (And you thought WE went a long way away). Like us, they left home to help others but also to change. Like us, I’m sure they did. And like all young people who go away and come back different, I bet it’ll be hard for those at home to accept the changes.

It sure was with Jesus. He went away -- who knows exactly how long -- and what people in his town expected to see returning was young Jesus, the carpenter’s kid. They expected to get back what they had sent out.

Instead, they got back a prophet. More than a prophet. They got back someone they barely recognized because he spoke with authority, wisdom and power. They got a teacher who brought them healing and words of life. They expected young Jesus, and they got Christ.

Why did they take offense? Because he had changed. They never even heard the words -- words they would have been happy with had they come from the mouths of someone else. They simply could not look past the surface of someone they had always known.

I pray we don’t make that mistake, understandable as it is. You’ll have chances in the coming weeks to talk with some of those kids. Please look beyond the surface of a teenager listening to loud music on an iPod or texting on their cell phone. Listen to their words even if they are halting -- they have wisdom to share with us. And healing. It’s called Christ’s love.

I pray we don’t make that mistake when it comes to any of us. Because we are all bearers of the light. We are all members of the body of Christ and therefore prophets of God’s love to those nearby and those far off.

Not all of us have to go away to change inside -- it only needs growing in Christ’s love which is a journey that requires no miles, only a willingness to look within. This is the sort of change that has no age limit, either, just a desire to keep growing. That, and an awareness that as we grow closer to Christ, some will not understand it - they will want us the way we always were. But if we never grew, how could we go out and serve, heal and preach the good news? And how could we come back with rejoicing, which like the disciples, is what your own fellow parishioners have done. Ame

Towel Camp Journal - Days 5 and 6

Twelve members of our congregation are on a trip to North Carolina to work on the homes of those in need. It's called Towel Camp. I thought you might like a brief run-down of each day as it happens. You’ll be able to follow along - and I might even be able to send a photo each day. Hope you enjoy it.

Days 5 and 6:

I didn’t get this out yesterday morning because I overslept. That happens with late nights.

On Thursday, our last work day, we finished our jobs. Well, we got as far as we could. Some work crews finished within an hour or two because their jobs were specific and limited. Others finished early because there was so much to do that it would take another camp to even scratch the surface.

Our work site is in the second category. But even the limited job we were supposed to finish, we couldn’t. Our task for the day, now that we had removed the playground, moved a shed and dug a dozen postholes into which we had planted the posts, was to finish a retaining wall and to pressure wash a wheelchair ramp, then paint it with no-skid paint.

While half the crew worked on the wall, I took three others to pressure wash. We traded off after three or four boards, and it was tougher than it looked. Early in the process, our group realized that the highest pressure nozzle was not necessary -- it cut patterns into the wood. The camp leader reminded us that the water pressure was enough to cut off fingers if we weren’t careful so we were careful and put on a lower pressure nozzle. Still the going was slow. But the end of the work day, we had a wall and a clean ramp, but had not painted. That will have to wait for the next camp.

The next morning, -- Friday -- we let everyone sleep in. It was our visiting day where we got to look at each others’ sites and meet the people we were helping. The first visit was to a 98-year-old woman for whom the campers had fixed her bathroom to make it more accessible. Her 81-year-old son met us as we arrived, and when we met her, she reminded us that she could still “whoop” her son if he needed it.

Then we went to a house we had visited the year before, where two older women lived. One of them had been taken to the hospital the previous day, and was in the middle of surgery while we visited, so it was a more sober time than they had anticipated, but the other woman was hopeful and in good spirits. The work there had been more general but included repairing a roof.

Our third visit was to the women’s shelter, the only place where we did not get to meet any of the residents. I’ve described that job already. Finally, we went to the home of another woman who lived in a tin-roof house that rested on cinder blocks. She was delighted in the way the roof was fixed and a new back stairway was built.

After the visits, we went to Steele Creek Park for swimming and a picnic. When we pulled in, it became apparent that the 4^th of July weekend is not the best time to go swimming -- it was packed! Pulling in with three large vans was tight parking. To make matters more complicated, every three feet little children pointed at us and shouted, “Look Mom, the Scooby Doo van!” If you have not seen the van we bring down each year, it’s painted to look like the “Mystery Machine” on the cartoon, “Scooby Doo.”

We amazingly found a group of tables to sit at, but after lunch nobody wanted to face the crowds at the diving board, so one group settled for mini-golf while another went up creek and found a set of large rocks to lie down on while they waded. In the end, we were all ready to go back by 3:00 pm.

After showers and the mandatory visit to the ice cream shop, the campers simply spent their time together realizing that it was their last night. They clung to each other like long lost twins who were being separated again. At dinner, the eyes started tearing up. At the closing eucharist, there were tears. I am pround of one of my team members, however, for helping me with the sermon. She had to let me yell at her for getting it all wrong -- turns out she was a great actress!

After the eucharist in which we all received actual towels as a reminder of the servanthood Christ calls us to, it was packing time. As I write this, it is nearly 5:30 am on Saturday, and I am minutes away from waking the campers up to get them on their ways. It is bitter sweet because the camp was very good, the kids fell in love with each other -- and now they will part, hoping to see each other again some day. Probably at camp. Either way, they go with a renewed sense of the joy of service.

Towel Camp Journal - Day 4

Twelve members of our congregation are on a trip to North Carolina to work on the homes of those in need. It's called Towel Camp. I thought you might like a brief run-down of each day as it happens. You’ll be able to follow along - and I might even be able to send a photo each day. Hope you enjoy it.

Day 4:

Hump Day. The room at breakfast was filled with more moaning and groaning from the aches and pains of the previous day. However, what most of the youth groaned about was the lack of sleep. I’m afraid that is a recurring theme: they stay up as late as they can get away with and stay in bed (sleeping bags) as long as they are allowed. Even 7:00 a.m. is too early for them. Go figure.

On the other hand, they were anxious to get to their work sites for two reasons. First, because they now only had one more day of work to finish their projects -- Thursday is the last day of work. On Friday, all groups visit each other’s sites and meet the people they have been working for. It’s is a chance for us all to appreciate what our new friends have been doing and to make yet newer friends.

Second, they knew that this Wednesday had a special treat in store. We were going to work only half a day and then go to the lake for swimming and canoing.

Our group thought we were going to finish building a retaining wall. Instead, we dug more postholes -- with the manual digger of course because I managed to break the gas powered auger the day before when I hit a doozie of a rock on the last hole. By the way, that earned me a nickname on my team: TAB, The Auger Breaker. Sigh.

The digging was easier this day because there had been a couple of hours of rain in the early morning. Of course, that meant that we were working in mud -- red slippery clay -- but you can’t have everything. We had to fill in or redig a couple of other holes that had been measured wrong, and by the time we finally set the posts in place, we only had time enough for some arm wrestling.

When we arrived at the pavillion we had reserved by the lake (it’s Lake James, by the way), we found it occupied by that camp of 6-year-olds from the YMCA. I mean, it was the exact same kids who had driven us from the showers. I think they are following us. We found a way to share the space, had our lunch and went for fun in the sun. Sadly, I did not get pictures of the lake. About a dozen of us rented all the available canoes while the others swam. Our flotilla explored as much of the lake as we dared until one canoe capsized. (NOTE: All canoers wore life jackest!). They were older and were able to tow their canoe to a nearby sandbar. On the way back, another canoe capsized, so it was back to the sandbar to empty them out. That was when we decided we had had enough fun.

In the evening, we received our Towel Camp 2009 t-shirts and had eucharist. I was able to celebrate while another priest, Mary, who is also on my work team, preached. It was great fun.

Finally, after church, the kids from Hyde Park made a special phone call to sing Happy Birthday to Tara Cotton. Happy Birthday, Tara!