Another camp memory...this one a little longer and serious...one that can teach us all a lesson and give us something to think about. I was about 16 at the time.
At a weekend church retreat our youth minister divides us up into groups of 15. He purposely groups us in with people we don't know very well. I mean, we are all friends, but we aren't grouped in with our current boyfriends or best friends...things like that. It's about 9 PM, so it's pitch black outside, and he takes our group of 15 out for what we think will be a little nighttime tromp in the woods. We are loud and carrying on when we come upon a small building in the middle of the trees. It isn't even a building...it's more like a free-standing room with no windows. Just a door. A single door. Suddenly, the 15 of us get really quiet. The youth minister is the only one with a flashlight and he throws it off into the woods. What's this? I begin to get a little bit nervous. Small places with no light. Hmm. Not my idea of a cozy campfire night with my buds. So...we each step inside the room. There is barely enough room for the 15 of us to line the 4 walls. And we sit indian style on the floor. The youth minister comes in after us...shuts the door...locks it...darkness...silence.
After what seems like an eternity...whoosh...a small orange flame appears in the middle of the blackness as a candle is lit. Nervous and anxious faces begin to be illuminated and eyes squint and search for familiarity amongst the darkness. All eyes soon focus on the man who brought us here. We want answers...now. When the air is palpable with our silent questions...he begins what in reality is an imaginary story...but in our hearts becomes a very real and true journey.
"We've just gone on an expedition into a cave. All 16 of us. The opening to the cave has just collapsed, trapping us all inside. Workers have been called in and are in the process of digging a hole to get us out. Here's our dilemma. When they dig the hole, it will be unstable. There will only be enough room for one person at a time to crawl out. The hole can collapse at any time and once it does...they cannot reopen it. The only thing guaranteed is that at least ONE person WILL get out."
He let this sink in. None of us moved. None of us spoke. We just stared. He went on.
"So, now...we have just a few minutes to decide who will be that one person to get out. And then we must decide in WHAT order will we proceed from there. And once we do that, we will all have 2 minutes to tell the ONE person that we know will make it out what we want our loved ones on the outside to know...in case we happen to not make it. And just so you know, I will be going out last."
Woah. I'm not ready for this. And from the look of everyone else, they aren't either. But too late for not being ready. It's here...now. Decide. So we go around the room and give a half hearted vote on who we think should go first based on who we have on the outside...what we have on the outside...regrets...dreams...wishes...we were reaching for straws. We come up with someone. He was sitting right next to me. We were touching knees. I looked at him. He was going to make it. Even in the small orange light that was fading to blue I could see some relief in those eyes. But instead of being envious, I grabbed his hand and squeezed. He needed it more than me. And I was glad for him. He squeezed back. Hard. And the orange-blue light caught the reflection of moisture on his cheek.
Soon we had our order figured out...I was number 7 out of 16. About the middle. I was guessing that was better than number 15. She was looking a little green around the gills. We were eager to tell our number 1 everything we wanted our loved ones to know. Now he was looking a little wary. Can you imagine the burden to bear? He was so relieved to know that he was going to live...and now to carry the weight of what could be 15 other lives that perished on his heals. And he is carrying their very words on his lips to those they loved. We each took our full 2 minutes and poured our hearts out. Not a single person had a dry eye. I talked of my mom who was my hero, my best friend, my soul mate, my whole life...tell her Thank You...even though that could never be enough...I told him to tell my little sister that I'm sorry I wasn't there enough and I love her...I told him to tell my "step"dad that he had changed my whole world and given me a new definition on what a dad could really be...and that words could never begin to tell him what that meant to me...I told him to tell the rest of my family that I loved them...I started to tell him more...but my 2 minutes were up. 2 minutes goes by really fast when you want to say how much you love someone...let alone how much you love everyone who ever meant something to you.
The workers broke through...the door opened. And we lined up in order. Our instructions were this...Line up single file. Look straight ahead. Do not speak. Do not turn around and look behind you. Keep walking until you reach the lodge of the campgrounds. So we walked. And we didn't speak. And I thought it was a great lesson learned. And it was all over. I followed my fellow "cavemen" in a tight single file. Until I cheated about midway through the woods and turned and glanced over my shoulder. Remember....I was 7th in line. When I turned around. There was no one behind me. I was the last one who made it out alive.
I cried all the way back to camp. And when I got back everyone there had similar stories to tell. I ran and hugged all my friends and we all cried and said how much we loved each other. About 30 minutes later, the "dead" campers came back all swollen eyed and told their story of how they got trapped again and talked about how they would feel. It was an incredible experience. And one that I wanted to share because just...what if? What if you had just a moment or two to tell someone how you felt before you left this Earth? What if you, like me...couldn't even REMEMBER all the people you wanted to tell? I know it's totally cliche to say that you should never let a day go by without telling the people you love how you feel about them...and "Live each day as if it were your last." Well, ok...sure...much easier said than done. So, how about instead we just TRY to every now and then take a moment to pour our hearts out to those we love...just to make sure they KNOW how we feel. Have a "check-in" moment. Would that be so hard? In case we ever do find ourselves trapped in a cave...or at the receiving end of a scalpel during a major surgery. You know...one of those rare occurrences like that. ; )
Love to all AS always!
Forever yours,
MareBear
