Poems and Short Remembrances

The Marble
By Rory DiMario

I have a marble in my pocket
I'm going to keep it there
It's there because of all of you
It's there because you care.

And when I hold it in my hand
I'll think of these 7 days
Of songs and meals and laughs and hugs
And even, softball plays.

I'll see Lakeside in the morning
And hikes in darkest night
I'll feel hands holding my hand
And see the blinding of flashlights.

I'll hear music and see starlight
Of memories, there'll be no lack
I'll even remember the feel
Of spit water on my back.

The Bible teaches God loves children
Children? – Well, that includes me
Because all I'll say about mud soccer
Is a big "whoopee!!"

And in my heart, I'll hear the words
At worship time, from Art,
And I'll try to live more faith-fully
From today – a brand new start.

And it wasn't just a movie
It's much more than it seems
You each really can go out
And find your Field of Dreams.

So, whether you have a marble
Or just memories in your head
Remember, that, by your faith
You always will be led.

So keep Camp Fowler with you,
As you go along your way
And I pray that God will bless
You all,
Each and every day.

Fowler Mornings
By Elizabeth Alesse

It is serene.

The spider's web connecting tree branches in the foreground
are blurred when my eye is drawn beyond,
to the rolling mountains in the distance.

The shimmering water in-between reflects the beauty surrounding it,
and I am just an insignificant detail hidden in the painting,
barely there.

The evergreens blanketing the mountainsides are dark
in places the sun has not yet touched.

And as the wind blows,
the splashing of the water on the rocky shore below becomes louder,
as the color of the trees change
as the clouds migrate past the sun.

I swing slowly on a chair made of birch branches,
suspended from the ceiling on irritated chains.

This chair has been here for as long as I can remember,
and it is as much a part of this place as the mountains.

Some mornings here look different at first,
when it is early, and the fog has not yet receded.

Then the web-clad branches are all that have been painted,
and the view beyond is a misty, unclear white.

The artist has not yet finished this Adirondack masterpiece.

The morning has not yet dawned,
and I feel like I am at the end of the earth.

The mountains are not there,
And the only assurance there is about existence,
Is the familiar splash on the water-beaten rocks below me.

To step this lakeside porch would be to step off the world.

I stand at the boundary of heaven and earth,
and though I know that in a few short moments the mountains
will begin to be sketched back into view, I am not quite at peace until they do.

So I sit and wait for them to appear,
as I know they always will.

Because He is the artist.

And this is His daily work.

Fowler Gifts
By Teresa France

Loons on the lake swimming swift and sure
Songs and campfires, snacks and s'mores
The special community and sense of belonging
Once camp is over, I'm constantly longing
Make the next year fly bye ‘til I make my return
To Fowler, special friendships and new things to learn

Camp...My Ministry Here is All About Love and God's Grace
By Michelle Taylor

A paper crane hangs in my bedroom, on the slanted ceiling over my bed. It is a constant reminder of the flock of cranes in the chapel it was taken from over 4 years ago I was a camper for "Triple A," the high school week. I was excited about being at camp for another Friday night worship service after 8 years of being a camper, when I found out that one of my friends from home had been killed. In the world outside of camp, people would console me and walk away, but in this place things are different. When it was time for me to go home, I was sent away with a prayer and a peace crane as a reminder of the peace and grace of God.

Since that night, I have looked at that fading, dusty origami bird often to remember God's all-sufficient grace… Strange how such a plain object can be filled with a powerful message. I think it is the same way with camps. Ordinary, simple, sandy, and full of mosquitoes, this place I have called my summer home is a place where miracles happen. Where trees and dirt may seem plain and impotent, God has been working in tremendous ways. As unexpected as the crane in my bedroom, camp has an unexpected way of showing kids the mighty hand of God that is powerful to save.

Having been so well loved and cared for as a camper, part of my ministry is to show love and care for the children that ride down the dirt road into our camp. It is my role to show them that God's love and grace will cover them always. Some of them are open to this message and come with cups to be filled. Others reluctantly tolerate the message in order to get out on the water in kayaks or to hike the next peak. Both groups of children have God's love and grace. It is my job to them, however I can. I paint with them, draw with them, eat with them, play and jump rope my way into their hearts so that they can see a bit of God. And yes, I even teach them how to make their own paper cranes.