Some Days

Some days at Windsor Hills Camp are a little dreary. There are stretches where the sun does not seem to penetrate all the way to the ground, getting lost in the chill and damp, in the mud and muck.

As winter slowly approaches, it is easy to remember “some days” from last winter, days of shoveling roofs and trudging through waist high snow. No, I didn’t say “snow banks” as if that which was waist high was the accumulation of drifted snow. I said “snow”. The drifted banks far exceeded waist high.

But even with the rapidly encroaching winter months ever present in our minds, there are still other days. And it is those days that fire our imagination.

This morning I was on the camp ground early to check on the progress of breakfast and to see how cold the dining hall really was. The temperature the night before had dropped into the thirties, and the dining hall was cold. The installation of the heating system in that room was behind schedule, fraught with challenges of its own. The room was cold.

The kitchen staff did not seem discouraged; breakfast was right on schedule. I moved to another place where I would shortly welcome several students for an all day teaching session on Christian Preaching. Reynolds Institute has become an increasing presence on the campground. The relationship between Reynolds Institute and Windsor Hills has been good for everyone.

I had scheduled an exam for part of the morning session, and once the exam was rolling, I snuck out onto the camp ground to survey the progress of the day. I was a little unprepared for what I experienced.

The sun was reaching all the way to the ground that morning. The autumn leaves were burning with colors, dancing in the gentle breeze, even as the sun warmed the crisp air. The ladies from the Beverly Women’s Retreat passed by, having finished breakfast. We talked about how beautiful the day was, and how comfortable the new Inn was as a retreat setting. Breakfast had been tasty, they reported.

I strolled down the hill toward Burgess Hall. Paul Willette was teaching a history course to prospective pastors there. I snuck in to hear a snippet of the lively discussion. The dozen or so folks in the room were having a great time. After giving a few instructions about the coffee machine, and inviting the group to lunch, I turned to trudge back up the hill to where my class would be finishing the exam.

As I walked up that hill, and as my eyes drifted to the treetops, brilliant with illuminated foliage, pieces of a puzzle came together in my mind. And I knew what was happening around me that day was right and good.

All at the same time, two classes of prospective pastors were pursuing preparation to follow God’s call on their lives. A large group of ladies were meeting in worship, opening their hearts to God. This was exactly what was supposed to be happening in this place. And God would be faithful to meet with all of them. And lives would be changed. And people would be encouraged. And pastors would be trained. And in it all, God would be glorified.

The sun managed to reach all the way from the heavens that morning and warm this camp director’s heart. And, --wouldn’t you know it -- by noon the heater in the dining hall was working as well!

Dan Whitney

Glory be to You, Lord Christ.

We praise You, we bless You, we worship You, we glorify You,

We thank You for Your great glory, O Lord God, heavenly King, Father Almighty.

O Lord our God, accept the fervent prayers of your people; in the multitude of your mercies, look with compassion upon us and all who turn to You for help; for you are gracious, O Lord. In You, we place our trust. Amen.