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Mountain Camp Day 41
Once when the Bishop was visiting St. Barnabas's, I plucked up enough courage to tell him how depressed I was feeling. "I'm lonely here in the slums," I moaned. "I feel sure God is calling me to work in the mountains!" As he began to reply, I thought he was going to agree with me. "Yes . . . I know . . . your bishop also feels called to work in the mountains!" Then, he added, "but I'm not going, nor are you!" "If you think that way, imagine how these young people must feel who have moved into the city from the mountains. They don't know Jesus as you do, either."
Kentucky Log Cabin
Later, a group of twenty youngsters and I set out to holiday in Kentucky in a little log cabin in the pine forests. Our tassel haired gang scurried across the wide marbled departure hall of the Dixie Ferry Terminal with bags of potatoes and onions in their hands. Pushing past blue suited business people, they hurried to catch the next boat across the river into mountain country. Tin mugs and coffee pots tied up with string clattered together to the obvious astonishment of the regular commuters. The tired kids were soon at the cabin, surrounded by pine trees. Still, they insisted on gathering stones to build a rough altar. These Cincinnati kids found so much happiness there that they renamed it, "Camp Joy." Our theme song was, "Jesus first, Yourselves last, and Others in between."
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