Neverland

A blast from the past...something I wrote a few years back and have been reminded of since I got back from taking my own youth group to Lone Tree. Enjoy.

I’ve found Neverland. Its just as magical as you may imagine. The food is wonderful, your imagination is one of the most practical things you can own there, kids are often seen chasing bunnies, and fun is practically a requirement. However, its not found by following the second star to the left and on ‘till morning. It’s closer to second mountain to the left, down the dirt road ’till morning.

***

The rain is coming down, softly pattering all around the Capitan Mountains and making a pleasant noise to all who can hear it. I take a deep breath, my nostrils seeking the fresh smell of rain, but they are only greeted by the smell of horse manure and mashed potatoes. As I sit in the rodeo arena at Lone Tree Ranch, I am struck by what an odd sight I must be; Much like a Lost Boy.

***

I am sitting cross-legged in a puddle of poop-water-mud in the middle of a rodeo arena, wrapping ropes used for a game called “Human Foosball.” I finish one set of ropes and move on to the next, taking care to move around an extra-poopy puddle, and I plop down in the mud next to another set of rope. I sigh, and wipe mashed potatoes off of my blue water-polo cap, grateful that it was so good at repelling food from my hair and ears, and then begin to deftly wrap rope again. I take note of the stains that the bottoms of my cowboy boots are making on my camo shorts as I think with a smirk, “I wish my mom could see me right now.”

***

For the past two years, I’ve spent my summers at Lone Tree Bible Ranch. When I first decided that I wanted to work there I had absolutely no idea what I was in for. I just remembered going to the camp on winter retreats as a kid and climbing on the rock-wall and drinking hot cocoa. I learned how to ride a horse there.

***

^{I’ve always been that kid that follows the crowd. I remember in 5th grade it was the coolest} thing if you owned a yo-yo. We’d spend all recess learning tricks like walk-the-dog, the pendulum, and the high wire, all of which were extremely cool, and required skill of the most extreme sort to perform. I couldn’t do any of those, but I could make my (cheap) yo-yo go to sleep. My best friends Ryan and David were naturals and they led the recess yard in yo-yo skills; I followed along and became cool by association. I saved my allowance for a month so that I could get the best yo-yo on the market; it cost $20. I remember finally getting my awesomely neon-yellow yo-yo, and bringing it to school, only to realize that Ryan and David had moved on to hackey-sacks. I was devastated. Twenty bucks was no small amount to an 11 year old. For a month afterwards, hackey-sacking was the pastime of choice. One day Ryan called to tell me that he had just beaten the high-hackey score by ten. The new record stood at 327. About an hour later David called to inform me that the newest record was 340 hacks. My personal high score was 10.

***

I get up and throw the ropes over my shoulder, grab my battle savvy, potato and mud stained flag, and begin to walk down the road to the program office. On my way I pass a gaggle of girls talking incessantly and giggling like mad. I wave as I walk by, “Coo-coo cachoo!” And I am greeted by more giggles.

Oh middle school.

Middle school was a rough time for me as well. Following the crowd didn’t phase out for me in middle school. In fact, it probably flared up even brighter; Bleaching your hair was very cool. I did that. It was also cool to buy pizza at lunch and embarrassing to bring your own lunch, so of course I begged my mom to give me money everyday. Watching 'Friends' on T.V. was definitely in. Oh yeah, and Bod Spray was awesome, and much to my family’s nostrils’ displeasure, I practically bathed in that stuff.

I was lost among the throngs of kids; Lost in the endless system of who’s in and who’s not. I was growing up too fast and the faster I grew up the less aware I was that I was lost.

Like Neverland, Lone Tree tends to draw a certain kind of kid. Most of them come to camp looking for adventure. We provide that by the truckload. Some of them come because their friends invited them. Many come because they have a crush on someone else that’s already going. There are a lot of kids that come through camp that are caught in the same system I was; Lost Boys arrive at camp every week.

I think it was the summer before I became a senior in high school when I realized just how lost I was. I realized it at a camp called M-Fuge. M-Fuge is a place for youth groups to come together in a big city and do volunteer work for the community, and it’s amazing. That year I worked in the Children’s Ministry group for 6-8 year olds. Up until this point I had been sailing along, steadily becoming a pirate lost in the system.

There was a little boy that I was in charge of who had a bit of an attention-span problem; He didn’t have one. We were supposed to make a macaroni-Noah and the Ark which meant glue, macaroni, and focus to a certain degree. I had been working with this six year old for a few days and I knew that this would be a difficult task. We brought in our kids, sat them down, set out the paper with the dotted lines, set out the supplies, and began. Well, before we began we cleaned up the macaroni that was spilled nearly instantaneously, and then we began. I learned that day, that you never ever let a 6 year old with A.D.H.D. hold the glue. I washed that glue out of my hair later that night and the night after that, and again when I got home. The point is, that 6 year old boy got the macaroni Noah finished, and it was beautiful, and he gave me a monstrous hug before I left that day and said that he had fun.

I sat on my bunk that night thinking about the day’s events, and realized that the old me wouldn’t have been able to handle that. The old me wouldn’t have even tried to tackle the situation of the hyperactive boy with glue and macaroni. I realized in that moment that I was stronger than I had been. I realized that I mattered and that I could get things done

One of the Lost Boys found his way to Lone Tree a few summers ago. His name was Trevor. He was quiet and composed but mainly the guy was just shy. He was in 7^th grade, and he had come to camp with a friend, he told me, because it sounded cool. We hung out all week. He was in my group that I lead, and he seemed to think I was cool. I found out that he was scared of heights, and then talked him into conquering that fear by challenging the Alpine Tower, a 5-story tall climbing contraption, often referred to as a ‘big jungle gym’. I thought for sure he was going to conquer his fear of heights on that thing, but on his first attempt I didn’t even get to hook him onto the ropes. He fidgeted around for 30 minutes before telling me that he’d try tomorrow because he had to go to the bathroom. That poor kid couldn’t think of anything else to get out of climbing. When he came back the next day, I got him to climb for real this time. Trevor climbed to the first platform, about ten feet up, and told me that his back hurt, and that he wanted to come down; a likely story. He went up again afterwards about 15 minutes later, and when he got to that very same platform again, he froze. He looked down at me with eyes wide from fear and said he couldn’t move. He and that pole became well acquainted that day, as he stood there bear-hugging it with all his might.

“Trevor. Buddy. What’s wrong dude? Is it your back again?” I said, trying to make him feel better about his fear of heights. “Dude, you can totally make it up. You just have to take it one step at a time.”

“I don’t think I can do it. I’m really scared.” Came the reply, muffled by his face being buried in the tower. “I just can’t do it. I’m scared.”

“Listen bro. If you get up to the next platform…or if you even try, I’ll buy you a coke from the hub.”

“Really?” He said as he looked down at me.

“Definitely. Now lets do this. I’ve got you man. You’re not going anywhere but up, and that’s your choice.”

“Okay.” He moved up one foothold. He reached out with a shaky hand and grabbed the next one, and step two was accomplished, but then he froze again. He now stood 11 feet off the ground, and as he looked down at me I knew that he wasn’t going to make it. I also saw in his eyes the only reason he hadn’t come down was because he was lost again. He was scared of heights, yes, but he was more scared of what the other campers were going to say when he came down. He was lost and stuck, both figuratively and literally.

Its moments like these that I live for. My time at Lone Tree has made me stronger and well equipped for these situations. Its times like these that I feel like Peter Pan leading the Lost Boys into a victory against the pirates. Pirates who grew up to be lost in the system.

“Coo-coo cachoo dude! Guess what? I’ll buy you a coke if you make it or if you don’t. Whether you make it up or not. Just like that promise God made in the story we read this morning. Cool?” I call up to him with a smile.

“Really!?” Disbelief was clearly evident in his tone.

“No doubt. Just let Mr. Pole breath again and then sit back in your harness, and I’ll lower you down.” It took him a few seconds, but he released his Kung-Fu Death grip on the pole and came down. “Good job Trev. I’ll find you after dinner tonight and we’ll get a soda together alright?” I then dropped my voice to a conspiratorial tone as he got near, “Thanks for that.”

“What? I didn’t go up all the way.” He answered in dismay.

“Well, you gave me the chance to prove a point about our lesson from this morning. All the others heard that. You just helped teach my lesson buddy.” I said matter-of-factly. “Now take off that harness and put it in the bucket. Its time for dinner. I’ll find you after.”

I’m not the same kid I used to be. I’ve changed and grown. I’m no longer lost. I’ve found, due in no small measure to Lone Tree Ranch, that I’m stronger, smarter, and better equipped for most situations than the younger version of myself could ever have imagined. I don’t need to fit in to be the person God made me to be. In fact, it has turned out to be quite the opposite of that. The person I was created to be is slightly different and more than a little weird and flies higher than most of the lost.

Whether its leading an assorted crew of mid-highers and high-schoolers with mashed-potatoes in hand to wildly attack another team in Potato Wars, falling in the mud in the rodeo arena, kicking a massive kickball at a four-sided goal while locking arms with two 7^th graders, or talking a scared-to-death kid off of a tower, I’ve found that I know who I am now.

I’ve found my place. I am no longer lost.

Its funny that I had to grow up a little to realize that I don’t want to grow up. I am Peter Pan at Neverland, leading Lost Boys to victory.