Secret Mission in Pennsylvania

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Originally uploaded by steakbellie.

The place we go on vacation every year is actually a Christian Retreat Camp. The people who go there are mostly from the Midwest, and are the very same people Garrison Keillior might conjuor up in an episode of Praire Home Companion. Beautiful families of Norweigon decent, with strong sons and tall tall daughters. Everybody is blonde. These are not the Neo-Conservative Corporate Christians of late, these are the hardworking, firm believing, quiet suffering Christians of a different time. They are understanding and compassionate and softspoken. They are hopeful, but careful not to smile to often.

On Sunday morning the newly arrived campers gather in the auditorium for Sunday Worship. The auditorium is built into a mountainside over a lake in the Adirondaks. The orginal wooden portion of the Auditorium is nearly 100 years old, and it has been expanded to house over 1,000 people in recent years. It has stadium seating, and wonderful acoustics. Most of the staff at the camp have been selected because of their musical abilities. They play traditional Orchestra instruments like Flute, Trumpet and Chello. They are nearly 60 players strong and they play with skill and passion.

On this particular Sunday, I am seated with my wife, sons and parents in a row. My Father is visibly proud to have his grandsons with him, and he gives each of them a pocketknife to fiddle with during the service.

The music starts and the first few hymms are belted out by the packed crowd. This is not like a typical Sunday Service. These people are the most passionate singers from their own churches, they know and love these songs and sing them to feel good inside.

Finally the audience is warmed up and it is time for the presentation of the Flags. One thousand faithful begin 'Crown him King of Kings' and it is wonderous. Non-believers will have difficulty verbalizing the feeling in their bellys. The words thunder throughtout the sunlit auditorium. If God has been hiding, he can be found in this place, during this ancient hymm. My spine is chilling as we approach the final verse.

Everyone stands for the last verse, and the flagbearers enter the auditorium from the back. They are beautiful twentysomthing blonde men and woman, dressed in all white. Each of the 16 carries the National Flag of a country that has Camp Missionaries stationed there. The only time I recall seeing my Father cry is during this ceremony. It one of those fantasticly moving human experiences. He's not crying this time.

The flagbearers reach the stage below before the verse is done and take their positions facing the crowd. The last note rings in the enourmous room, and in a line one at a time the flagbearers dip their flags and Announce the name of the country to the completely silent crowd standing at attention. The roll call continues accross the stage in a measured pace....the final few flags are announced...
"The Bahamas!"
"Nigeria!"
"Uganda!"
"Austria!"
"South Africa!"
"Poland!"
"Costa Rica!"
and the last one...
"Hong Kong!"
My Father adds in exact timing from the crowd....
"Pennsylvania!!"
My jaw wants to drop and laugh out loud as the perfect silence of one thousand sphincters tightening surrounds us. It is the most enourmous awkward moment ever and the poor people on stage have forgotten what to do next. There is a silent count of three before anyone moves. Not one of these good hearted people turn to see who has ruined this ritual. They roll with lifes punches and are not angry. I can feel them offering prayers up for the old man who must have some mental ilness...I can feel their love and forgiveness for him as strongly as I feel my Moms heated embarrassment. She has 3 blonde Grandchildren blocking her from throttling my Dad in the Aisle.

Its moments like these that I realize how much I love that man....