Last week, I took a short personal journey that followed a familiar path only recently reclaimed by the mindful stewards of tradition at Camp Mitchell. It leads to an enchanted clearing in the woods, carpeted with lichen and moss, shaded by a canopy of tree leaves and pine needles. And there sits the stone altar. I’ve always felt closest to the gentle freedom of self-determination amongst the natural creation of wood and water, rocks and rivers, sand and sunshine; when my body is enveloped by its environment. These are holy places for me...
Decades have weathered the altar, now more rustic than ever, and I understand it will soon be refurbished for new generations. I’m pleased that my feet won’t be alone on that path, that this special place will continue to provide rest and respite for weary souls like mine.
“Grant us grace fearlessly to contend against evil and to make no peace with oppression; and, that we may reverently use our freedom, help us to employ it in the maintenance of justice in our communities and among the nations...”