SPRING 2004Dennis Deems
Woodbury MM
’d been attending Woodbury Friends Meeting since July. The Tri-Quarter Gathering in October 2003, at Camp Ockanickon, would be an opportunity to grow with friends from Woodbury and make new friends. Months later I would apply for membership with Woodbury MM.
Equally important, I could learn about God as the Light, a term I rarely used from my Baptist, Methodist, and charismatic background. What might the Light be like? Camp Ockanickon in the woods surely would be a place Quaker Light would shine, and I would be renewed. I expected a small adventure. Little did I suspect ...
Friday night I arrived at the dining hall shortly after dark. Since supper was about to start, I decided not to go to my cabin till the end of the night’s activities. The food was fine. I introduced myself to new friends and conversed with Woodbury friends. The games we played afterward were fun and an ice breaker easing efforts to be sociable.
The late night hay ride heightened the fact of the deep darkness over Ockanickon. Afterwards, I hung around the dining hall a few minutes. Earlier in the evening, a friend from Woodbury offered to have one of her children show me where my cabin was. I declined, confident this old boy scout would find his way.
I went to my car to fetch my sleeping bag and personal items. The flashlight didn’t work. My little adventure had begun. Little did I suspect ...
I had signed up to sleep in cabin Cherokee 4. Eagerly I started down the trail I believed was indicated on the map. Almost immediately I came to two cabins, one dark and another well lit with a fence around it. I studied the cabins awhile. Something didn’t feel right. They appeared to be inhabited by year-round or seasonal residents.
I walked back to the dining room. The building was dark. Getting to my cabin was going to take more mental work than I’d imagined. Since the door was unlocked, I went inside and turned on a light. The provided map indicated Cherokee 4 was just beyond a bathroom which I’d seen earlier.
Turning out the light, leaving the dining hall, I found in the dark the trail which led to the bathroom. The bathroom was well lit. Perhaps the light was provided by the Providence of Quaker Light. Little did I suspect ...
The night woods were dark, really dark. But what was there to fear? Friends were every where, although probably sleeping on that cool October night.
A little hesitantly I entered the woods on my way to Cherokee 4. Wandering straight ahead I passed a lighted Pepsi machine by a building—not Cherokee 4. The map, which I couldn’t read since leaving the dining hall, said there were cabins just beyond the rest rooms.
I walked forward and found several cabins named Algonquin, but nothing named Cherokee. I kept wandering in the night, finding the observatory.
I was getting worried. Perhaps I should find my way to my car. Instead, I decided I to sleep in any empty bed in any cabin I could find. I found a cabin and entered the screened room, which had no light. I made out beds to my left. I walked over and in the dark saw a person sleeping in the bottom bunk. Maybe the upper bunk was empty. Little did I suspect ...
I stuck my hand out. I felt a body. I immediately left that cabin!
Wandering, hoping an irate Quaker wasn’t wakened from a cool autumn sleep and pleasant dreams of perpetual silence, next I found Algonquin 12. I entered, found no one sleeping there, and settled into a lower bunk.
In my inability to find Cherokee 4, the Light had provided for me. Finally my first night’s little adventure at Ockanickon was over. I was grateful for the provision. Little did I suspect ...
It was still very dark when I awoke to the urge known to humanity, especially to a man my age. Into the night I went again. The adventure continued.
Over the years I heard a few Christians say the Bible was like a guide for them. With a Bible, they could solve any problem. None of them had searched for a bathroom at Ockanickon at night. Besides, they’d have needed a Bible with glow-in-the-dark print!
Finally it was time to return to Algonquin 12, as if I could find my way in Ockanickon’s darkness. Again I was getting concerned. The way I was going, I’d probably end up at Cherokee 4. Once again I wandered through the Algonquins. Wasn’t that the same tree I passed going the other direction five minutes ago? There was the wooden plank trail that ended abruptly.
Then there was a light shining from a cabin I couldn’t identify. Little did I suspect ...
From the cabin appeared Kandy Lippincott from Moorestown Meeting. We introduced ourselves. I told her of my plight in settling in Algonquin 12 and now unable to find my way back.
She had two working flashlights and lent one to me. Together we set out in the night with the light, truly a Quaker metaphor in Ockanickon’s darkness. I was beginning to calm.
Kandy and I came upon the observatory. A sign there read: The heavens declare the glory of God. “Yes, they do,” I responded, “but do they declare where Algonquin 12 is?”
We turned around and hoped we were heading back to something. Kandy said her husband, Greg, had gotten “lost here five years ago.” Supposing I now possessed Quaker humor, I quipped, “And you haven’t seen him since?”
Apparently I was leading but didn’t know it. We walked and searched; no Algonquin 12. Well, maybe it’s out that away, through that darkness over there. We chatted amiably and ended up at the health lodge, well lit within! We went in and looked at the map.
We would try to keep the lake to our back, if the lake was where we supposed it to be. We went into the darkness again, Quaker and Quaker-to-be. We passed that tree again, found a couple of someone else’s cabins. Then my flashlight went out.
Little did I suspect ...
Kandy recognized where she was and walked to her cabin. In the middle of the night, she woke her husband and asked for his flashlight. He obliged, and she left the cabin with the working flashlight.
Kandy and I wandered into the night. After a few minutes of lostness, we stumbled — well, actually Algonquin 12 is a pretty big cabin — we found the cabin. I thanked her for the help and she went back — I hoped to her own cabin.
A couple hours later, Ockanickon still very dark, I awoke and felt that bodily urge again. Quaker Light had a sense of humor that would take some getting used to.
I came to Ockanickon not really knowing what to expect, hoping for a little adventure. It took until Saturday afternoon the next day for me to let go of the anger I felt. It was directed at no one really. I just didn’t like getting lost.
But in that night of lostness, Quaker Light was there in so many ways. When Kandy was wandering back and forth with me, like the Light, she was first there with me in my despair. Her wanderings mirrored mine, hers a living, walking empathy.
Next Greg, like the Light within, was kind and complained not, attentive to the smallest detail.
Bonded in the night, Kandy and Greg, not I, led me to Algonquin 12. I followed as they followed the Light within. The Light that night blinded the darkness. The adventure was awesome. Little did I suspect ...
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Last modified:
Wednesday, February 18, 2004 at 08:19 AM
