Love my visitors!!!
I am so blessed. The flowers get more beautiful! Close up!
"What do you call it when it rains chickens and ducks?" Foul weather.
The drama continues.....
*******
Then I made the biggest mistake of my life.
Everything was going so well at Camps with Meaning.
There were a few things that felt a little strange. The conference culture was an adjustment and being a director of three camps rather than one, was a challenge. But I had great administrative help and I felt the support of an entire conference. I felt I was wanted, needed, and successful. I really should have stayed.
It was a dream job…!
But then I received another phone call!
Would I meet with the Camp Arnes board?
Apparently shortly after I left the camp, Dave Loewen, who was experiencing some duress, had left. They were wondering if I would take his place.
Can you imagine taking over for Dave Loewen…. The Mr. Dave Loewen. My instincts told me "no"…. Never follow the steps of a great leader especially if their leave is somewhat controversial. There had already been one interim director casualty - did I want to be the second?
Besides Camp Arnes was an exceptional challenge to manage with its sprawling network of different programs, most of them on the cutting edge – hard to keep track of, much less control. Dave loved it on the edge. I preferred the tried-and-true methods of management.
And, why did Dave leave? What went wrong? No one was forthcoming. The reasons weren’t clear – that should have been a clear sign.
But yet – Camp Arnes felt like home. There was that swimming pool named after our daughter.
We owed Camp Arnes so much for their support, shouldn’t we help them now that they were asking?
I remember discussing this all over and over again. I remember weighing it all… and in the end – I considered it!
I think it was ‘wanting to go home’ that won out. Or was it the allure of being the director of the largest camp in all of Manitoba?
In any case I said “yes.”
At first it went well….
But very quickly I learned that Camp Arnes was feeling a financial crunch. It had expanded too quickly and the board was trying to gain control of the budget.
There was a fundamental change, a shift away from the summer camping program being the priority purpose of the camp to the rentals being the priority! All changes were being made strictly for financial reasons. Making money became the priority! Immediately summer programs began to suffer in light of this.
This led me to suspect the spiritual quality of the leadership of the camp. This was not the way things were done when Dave Loewen was director. Dave had faith – the board had faith that God would lead the way – and always had.
The last straw came when Camp Seton was put on the chopping block. I personally had fond memories of the place.
Camp Seton was an exceptionally beautiful wilderness camp site situated along a river that was even more beautiful through a camera lens.
I had first hand experience with this. One summer weekend, Dave had sent Wilma and I on a photo shoot of Camp Seton. We had a lot of fun experimenting and taking sunset shots on a cliff, appropriately called Inspiration Point, overlooking the river. We tried some tricky photography in one spot where the campers looked as if they were jumping dangerously off a cliff into thin air— but landing safely on a pile of soft sand right below.
I especially liked the way the camp was laid out. The horses were fenced down in a valley, surrounded by the tents. No matter what we did, we could always see those gorgeous animals moving gracefully in their corral.
For this photo expedition, the Seton Program director had planned a chuck wagon ride especially for us to photograph at the end of our second day. The lighting was perfect, and it promised to be even better with a full moon rising.
The director started harnessing the horses. I think the full moon was having its affect, the kids were hyper and the draft horses were fidgety.
The plan was that we would videotape the team as they came down the dusty trail, and then once they were at the bottom of the hill, we would get on the wagon and videotape from the wagon.
We went down the hill ahead of the team to scout the place looking for the camera angles. The winding trail lent itself to the classic S-curve picture.
Wilma found some bushes and I had just positioned myself at the end of the trail, when I heard a strange sound. The sound of pounding hooves. I looked up - the horses were bolting - kids and duffle bags were flying through the air.
"They're coming...and they're out of control!" I called out to Wilma.
She crouched in behind her little bush. But the team veered off the curved road and heading straight for her. I was helpless. There was simply no way I could get there in time to protect her.
And she was ducking behind bushes thinking she was safe... bushes that would not deter a stampeding team of Clydesdales. She would not expect them to come her way, plus I noticed that there was a barbed wire fence between them. She thought she was safe.
The hooves were thundering, they ignored the curved road and went straight for the tiny bushes, barbed wire fence and Wilma. I was screaming. They were almost on her - when she jumped at the last minute.
When I got to her she was lying on the ground very still, . tangled up in a mess of barbed wire.
I gently untangled her from the wire, thanking God that she was alive.
Once I knew she was safe, we looked up.
The wagon had lodged behind two trees. The horses had shaken off their harnesses and had begun to graze as if nothing had happened.
The director and the one camper in the wagon weren't hurt at all.
That night around the campfire, we experienced a love fest like never before. God had been with us.
This was a little to close for comfort but these were exactly the kind of stories Camp Arnes thrived on! Dave had always said that everyone – especially young children need safe challenges to face and overcome. There was such a thing as “safe fear.” Camp Seton offered many such stories in their normal camping program.
People donated to Camp Arnes because it was exciting. But the board, instead of going on the offensive and putting effort into fundraising, went on a program of downsizing and trimming the good programs.
The first cut was Camp Seaton! This was done on the board level with little discussion.
Something died in me as I saw the best of the camp being challenged and shut down. And it all went down hill from there.
I don’t want to go into detail, but it became more and more evident to me that this board – though filled with good people was highly dysfunctional – violating all the principles I held dear. I found it increasingly hard to support this new board – and they found it increasingly difficult to deal with my consistent resistance.
The tension got to me, I became physically ill and landed up in the hospital for three days…. Something that had never happened to me before. Under doctor’s advisement I finally resigned.
I was wounded, hurt and shamed! I hadn’t last two years ----
Something broke inside of me. I lost my drive, my ambition. I had lost myself. I went into hiding!
I am so blessed. The flowers get more beautiful! Close up!
"What do you call it when it rains chickens and ducks?" Foul weather.
The drama continues.....
*******
Then I made the biggest mistake of my life.
Everything was going so well at Camps with Meaning.
There were a few things that felt a little strange. The conference culture was an adjustment and being a director of three camps rather than one, was a challenge. But I had great administrative help and I felt the support of an entire conference. I felt I was wanted, needed, and successful. I really should have stayed.
It was a dream job…!
But then I received another phone call!
Would I meet with the Camp Arnes board?
Apparently shortly after I left the camp, Dave Loewen, who was experiencing some duress, had left. They were wondering if I would take his place.
Can you imagine taking over for Dave Loewen…. The Mr. Dave Loewen. My instincts told me "no"…. Never follow the steps of a great leader especially if their leave is somewhat controversial. There had already been one interim director casualty - did I want to be the second?
Besides Camp Arnes was an exceptional challenge to manage with its sprawling network of different programs, most of them on the cutting edge – hard to keep track of, much less control. Dave loved it on the edge. I preferred the tried-and-true methods of management.
And, why did Dave leave? What went wrong? No one was forthcoming. The reasons weren’t clear – that should have been a clear sign.
But yet – Camp Arnes felt like home. There was that swimming pool named after our daughter.
We owed Camp Arnes so much for their support, shouldn’t we help them now that they were asking?
I remember discussing this all over and over again. I remember weighing it all… and in the end – I considered it!
I think it was ‘wanting to go home’ that won out. Or was it the allure of being the director of the largest camp in all of Manitoba?
In any case I said “yes.”
At first it went well….
But very quickly I learned that Camp Arnes was feeling a financial crunch. It had expanded too quickly and the board was trying to gain control of the budget.
There was a fundamental change, a shift away from the summer camping program being the priority purpose of the camp to the rentals being the priority! All changes were being made strictly for financial reasons. Making money became the priority! Immediately summer programs began to suffer in light of this.
This led me to suspect the spiritual quality of the leadership of the camp. This was not the way things were done when Dave Loewen was director. Dave had faith – the board had faith that God would lead the way – and always had.
The last straw came when Camp Seton was put on the chopping block. I personally had fond memories of the place.
Camp Seton was an exceptionally beautiful wilderness camp site situated along a river that was even more beautiful through a camera lens.
I had first hand experience with this. One summer weekend, Dave had sent Wilma and I on a photo shoot of Camp Seton. We had a lot of fun experimenting and taking sunset shots on a cliff, appropriately called Inspiration Point, overlooking the river. We tried some tricky photography in one spot where the campers looked as if they were jumping dangerously off a cliff into thin air— but landing safely on a pile of soft sand right below.
I especially liked the way the camp was laid out. The horses were fenced down in a valley, surrounded by the tents. No matter what we did, we could always see those gorgeous animals moving gracefully in their corral.
For this photo expedition, the Seton Program director had planned a chuck wagon ride especially for us to photograph at the end of our second day. The lighting was perfect, and it promised to be even better with a full moon rising.
The director started harnessing the horses. I think the full moon was having its affect, the kids were hyper and the draft horses were fidgety.
The plan was that we would videotape the team as they came down the dusty trail, and then once they were at the bottom of the hill, we would get on the wagon and videotape from the wagon.
We went down the hill ahead of the team to scout the place looking for the camera angles. The winding trail lent itself to the classic S-curve picture.
Wilma found some bushes and I had just positioned myself at the end of the trail, when I heard a strange sound. The sound of pounding hooves. I looked up - the horses were bolting - kids and duffle bags were flying through the air.
"They're coming...and they're out of control!" I called out to Wilma.
She crouched in behind her little bush. But the team veered off the curved road and heading straight for her. I was helpless. There was simply no way I could get there in time to protect her.
And she was ducking behind bushes thinking she was safe... bushes that would not deter a stampeding team of Clydesdales. She would not expect them to come her way, plus I noticed that there was a barbed wire fence between them. She thought she was safe.
The hooves were thundering, they ignored the curved road and went straight for the tiny bushes, barbed wire fence and Wilma. I was screaming. They were almost on her - when she jumped at the last minute.
When I got to her she was lying on the ground very still, . tangled up in a mess of barbed wire.
I gently untangled her from the wire, thanking God that she was alive.
Once I knew she was safe, we looked up.
The wagon had lodged behind two trees. The horses had shaken off their harnesses and had begun to graze as if nothing had happened.
The director and the one camper in the wagon weren't hurt at all.
That night around the campfire, we experienced a love fest like never before. God had been with us.
This was a little to close for comfort but these were exactly the kind of stories Camp Arnes thrived on! Dave had always said that everyone – especially young children need safe challenges to face and overcome. There was such a thing as “safe fear.” Camp Seton offered many such stories in their normal camping program.
People donated to Camp Arnes because it was exciting. But the board, instead of going on the offensive and putting effort into fundraising, went on a program of downsizing and trimming the good programs.
The first cut was Camp Seaton! This was done on the board level with little discussion.
Something died in me as I saw the best of the camp being challenged and shut down. And it all went down hill from there.
I don’t want to go into detail, but it became more and more evident to me that this board – though filled with good people was highly dysfunctional – violating all the principles I held dear. I found it increasingly hard to support this new board – and they found it increasingly difficult to deal with my consistent resistance.
The tension got to me, I became physically ill and landed up in the hospital for three days…. Something that had never happened to me before. Under doctor’s advisement I finally resigned.
I was wounded, hurt and shamed! I hadn’t last two years ----
Something broke inside of me. I lost my drive, my ambition. I had lost myself. I went into hiding!
“It can take years to mold a dream.
It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.”
― Mary E. Pearson
It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.”
― Mary E. Pearson
Just a little announcement. This Sunday May 15, Maplecrest is holding a inspirational service for me. I hope to attend at around 10 to receive prayer and encouragement. My goal is to finish writing my story and to encourage everyone to live their story or write it -- Life is worth paying attention to.... Park Theatre 698 Osborne Street, or watch and pray for me watch Maplecrest Church - Youtube. Blessings!
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