FROM THE PAGES OF THE CAMP NEWSLETTER WINTER 2004/2005

I woke up this morning to find that it had snowed during the night. It was the kind of snow that forms pillow-like mounds on the tops of parked cars, and traces every branch and twig in white. From my bedroom window I looked at the railing, which runs around the center grass, and visually estimated that about six or seven inches of snow had fallen while I was asleep.
Sarah and Bowden were still sleeping, so I quietly pulled on my clothes and laced up my boots in the dark. I get a thrill out of being the first person to walk through a virgin blanket of snow. I get the same feeling when I dip a knife into the uniform surface of a new jar of peanut butter, or when I lob a rock into the still surface of a placid pond.
I slipped downstairs, avoiding the third stair- the one that creaks- and stepped out into the hush of early dawn. I enjoyed the “scrunch-scrunch” of my boots as I walked through the snow and admired the way snow softens and rounds every surface. Every tree was drooping and heavy-laden with the stuff. The two little trees by the shuffleboard court were doubled over under the weight of the snow so that they looked more horizontal than vertical.
After meandering my way through the camp I came to the stream, which was gurgling and splashing its way down the mountain. I thought about how the stream would change in a couple of days when the snow melts. Then it would be a roaring and rushing thing, but this morning it was calmly picking its way between the rocks.
I walked along the stream for a while taking note of the different animal tracks, which crissed-crossed my own. Deer, coyotes, and rabbits had all passed that way before me. I decided to follow a set of deer tracks, which turned to the left and set off up the hillside. I had wanted to see the view from the ridge above and I had read that wild animals usually follow the path of least resistance. I hoped that was correct as I looked up at the steep rugged hillside. After squirming my way through manzanita bushes, and clambering over several fallen trees I decided that the deer did not have my best interests at heart. At one point a squirrel, scurrying along a branch, caused a shower of heavy wet snow to rain down on my head. I was beginning to think that the forest creatures were having a little fun at my expense, so I decided to quit the deer’s trail and strike out on my own.
I walked for about another ten minutes through the snowy woods before I emerged at a spot where the trees cleared and there was a truly incredible view of the mountains. The slope, which I had just climbed, dropped away below me and rose again on the other side of the stream. In the distance rose the peaks of Mt. Tahquitz and Mt. San Jacinto. In the light of early morning the mountains were covered in a sparkling blanket of white.
I was reminded of Isaiah 44:22-23, which reads, “I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you. Sing for joy, O heavens, for the Lord has done this; shout aloud, O earth beneath. Burst into song, you mountains, you forests and all your trees, for the Lord has redeemed Jacob, He displays His glory in Israel.” It seemed to me that the Lord’s glory was on full display this morning in these mountains. What a wonderful and gracious God we serve! As I walked back home, retracing my steps down the slope and along the stream, I joined with the mountains, and forest in singing His praises. “This is my Father’s world; And to my listening ears, All nature sings, and round me rings The music of the spheres.” Lord, I am so grateful for the beauty of your creation, and thankful beyond words to be numbered among the redeemed.