What I’ve Been Missing

BY MARY ANN RYAN

Ididn’t know I was missing it. I’m not sure I ever had it, so how could I know it was missing? The long, deep talks. The serene surroundings. An affirming community. The … lack of wifi?!

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The story starts back in March 2021, when I am still self-isolating due to the pandemic, tired of being cooped up. Then, an article in our church’s monthly newsletter, Family Camp 2021. “Honey, have you ever been to church camp?” I asked my husband, now retired. “Hmm, it’s been a long time,” he replied. “You interested in going?” “Yeah, sure.” And just like that, we were signed up for a long July Fourth weekend at Cathedral Ridge.

The months pass, and we kind of forgot about it. Then suddenly, it’s next weekend? What to pack? What to expect? Hubby is not the social type—unlike me, the family social butterfly— so I was starting to have second thoughts. Kumbaya around the fire pit? Speaking in tongues and public witnessing? Nah, I thought—these are Episcopalians! My homies.

And hubby said that we don’t have to participate in anything we don’t want to. Well, OK then.

And, so, we arrived. Talk about welcoming with open arms! The camp counselors knew our names and immediately made us feel right at home. “We are here to serve,” was their motto. And serve, they did.

We didn’t know a lot about Cathedral Ridge, but it is, in fact, a gem. Tucked away in the mountains near Woodland Park, it is a secluded paradise. It is not the large, sprawling facility I had imagined, but, rather, a homey group of cabins and lodges with a personal touch. There is a dining hall that served our meals, and two outdoor chapels—both of them outfitted with log pews and rustic altars. Church where we feel God most acutely!

The grounds revealed other secrets during our exploration—secluded cabins, a rope course, a labyrinth, and a horseshoe pit, to name a few. The work-in-progress silently spoke of growth and of enjoyable times to come. Trees, forests, seclusion— then open space, mountain views, community. It was all there and ripe for the taking.

Cathedral Ridge is a family camp. And my husband and I felt like part of one big family here—not the “retirees” but, rather, the grandparents. We overheard one of the mothers say how “safe” she felt here. She remarked how blessed they were to be at a place that she knew her kids were safe, where she was able to be fed—literally to not have to cook—and where the entire church family was watching out for each of them. We realized that the safety that we all felt extended well beyond our physical security.

Some of the best things about the weekend were the “programs” and experiences they had in store for us. There was something for all ages, which was perfect since we campers ranged in age from 2 years to late 60s. There were families with small children, a single dad with teenagers, a lone woman in her 40s, retirees—you name it. All ages, all colors, all gender varieties—all God’s children. All welcome.

We didn’t think we came for the programs, but they came for us. “Come play corn hole with us! Is it too far to walk? If so, we’ll bring it to you!” Labyrinth walk, check. Arts & crafts with the preschool set, check. Rope course for the teenagers (and teenager wannabes!), check. Best of all, the encouragement, the affirmation. The sense of community, of family, under the starry heavens. And the talks. Unplugged from the grid, we found ourselves having deep, soulful talks. “Do you think the soul can grow?” was one typical question. “Well, maybe not grow in size,” one response spooled out, “but it can be fed. And diminished. Remember the guy on Breaking Bad?” We talked for hours about the mysteries of the universe, the mysteries of God. When I ran out of books, I turned to … the Bible?! It’s been a long time, but it spoke to me in these hidden hills and crevasses as cool water slakes a thirsty soul.

On the last evening, sitting around the campfire with the families from our parish, our rector (who was serving that weekend) asked us to describe—using one word—how we were feeling at that point in time. I offered the word “sated.” “Satiated?” asked those unfamiliar with that word. No, something deeper and more soulful than satiated with food, I replied. Full, content, fed. I didn’t know I was missing it! And yet, here it was—up in the mountains, at church camp of all things—that my entire being radiated with peace, joy, and contentment.

The glow afterwards lasted for days and even weeks. We still talk about our weekend. “We are fed so we can feed.” I’ve always loved quote by St. Francis: “Preach the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.” I try to use everyday kindnesses and Christian behavior to feed others, as it were. Whether it’s talking to the lonely man at the doctor’s office, or the distraught neighbor whose dog went missing, or the lady at the grocery store whose toddler is having a meltdown. Or whether it’s volunteering at the local homeless shelter, or with Junior Achievement, or as treasurer at my church.

My experience at Cathedral Ridge has helped me to bring that “everydayness” back into focus—resisting the urge to fling the doors wide open after the pandemic, to rush headlong back into the social commitments of before. Rather, take a pause, take a deep breath. Remember that it’s really all about feeding others as you have been fed.

I know now what I’ve been missing.

MARY ANN RYAN is the treasurer and a vestry member at St. Stephen’s, Longmont.

Support the mission and ministry of Cathedral Ridge by making a donation today at cathedralridge.org.