For some,the years turn around January -- the first signifying the "new" year. For most of academia, a new year begins in August or September, when school takes up again. While I don't really consider it my "new year marker," camp for me is the highlight of my year. People who know me casually might find that funny. People who know me well are no longer surprised.

People who know me only casually know me well enough to get some idea of my physical prowess and coordination. It doesn't take long for me to sufficiently prove my lack of either. This coupled with the fact that I am allergic to everything tangible, it would make sense if spending a week in the woods were something I'd choose only if I were feeling particularly suicidal.

But this camp is different.

I started out at CRYC as a camper, though an older one. (I think I was 16.) It wasn't long after I'd converted; all of my friends from my mother's church would be going to the Baptist camp down the road, the camp I'd gone to before. I didn't know many people except those from my home congregation at Bono; most of them were younger than I was and would be in other cabins. I felt pretty awkward about the whole thing; it seemed like everyone already knew everybody else from previous years, youth rallies and other activities. I wondered how I'd ever fit in, particularly being "older."

I guess I was lucky in that the campers that year were a pretty wonderful group of people. I felt at home pretty quickly. The counselors were incredible people. I remember being impressed; these people really cared about the kids and about camp.

I counsel with some of those same people now. The people I looked up to as adults and authority figures are now peers. And now I'm one of the responsible adults. How'd that happen?

Honestly I haven't got a clue. Though from my first week as a camper on, I wondered how I'd be able to go back to summers without CRYC. To tell the truth, I still don't know; I haven't yet missed a year. Last year it must have been the hand of God himself that got me through.

I'm stubborn. When I was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia in February of last year, one of my first thoughts was "But what about camp?" I finished the first six week round of radiation radiation the week before camp started. Only Gary, one of the counselors and a good friend, even knew of the diagnosis. Immature as it was, I hadn't wanted to tell the director -- he might tell me not to come!

If I'd been smart, maybe I wouldn't have. But I'm not that bright, really, so I'd gone anyway. It was a hard week, physically and emotionally.

Originally, my doctor hadn't thought I'd have to undergo chemotherapy, that the radiation would be effective enough. But the bloodwork the week before showed otherwise. Wednesday of camp last year, I got the news: I'd be doing six months of radiation starting the Monday immediately after camp. I wasn't sure whether to tell anyone or not. I talked to Gary and Gary decided for me: it wasn't something I should keep to myself.

It was a hard week, but wonderful. Even while I felt like yelling at God, I watched kids turning to him, learning to love him. While my faith was being challenged, theirs was growing. By the end of the week, we were all of us stronger.

This year, I'm in a partial remission. I have my doctor's full approval to rush stubbornly into the woods for another week of camp psychosis: no sleep, sugar rushes, running ourselves ragged on the ropes course. And watching teens grow in faith.

Not all of them do. I realize (as naive as I sound) that for some of them camp is just another social event. For some of them, it's an excuse to get away from home for a week. Others are there because their parents made them come. But regardless of why they come, they're there. And God is constantly doing something. Sometimes it takes a couple of years to see exactly what, but he's always doing something.

Very few people plan their theophanies. God's got a way of reaching people who don't necessarily want to be reached.

Anyway, tomorrow afternoon we start another week. I've been praying all year.