No Rain No Rainbows

It had been a frustrating morning. I had to chase down a pickup with a load of In Camp High Adventure kids in the back. They were eager to get to the Union Falls trail head and frustrated in waiting for the other groups and their vehicles. Parking is always a problem here at Loll, the parking lot ½ a mile away, up a steep hill. I returned to my office to find a homesick scout and his leader wanting to use the phone. Many tears and frustrations later, I pried the phone from his snot covered hands and sent him back to camp so I could deal with the next homesick scout wanting to call and go home; and listened to his weeping and whining to his mother. I was wondering if the Spartins didn't have something to teach us. The staff straggled in to breakfast so I scolded them, and the weather report for rain.

Yesterday it started raining in the middle of merit badge orientation sessions. I had already walked the camp with Leonard and had thought to have a few minutes to myself in the lodge. But whenever it rains I visit the troops; so I put on my boots, raincoat, and got out my umbrella. I was tired of the rain, frustrated with the challenges it presents our campers, especially on opening day. As I walked the trail past camp Yakutat the sun came out. Golden light shown on each rain drop and the forest was bathed in light and gold. By the time I reached the landing there was an amazing rainbow rising out of the lake. At first the end of is seemed to rest on the landing itself. As I approached, the great arch of colors flitted out to the red buoy, the other end resting on the blue catamaran. I tried to see the pot of gold on the trampoline. I could see the waterfront staff on the dock painted by the colors of the rainbow. If I had not taken that grudging hike, gone out to do my job, I would not have seen such beauty. I ran back to the lodge and had Janice and others come out to see it through the trees. Sharing it made it even more wonderful.

After breakfast this morning, I walked the camp again. At Puma I spoke with the scout leaders from Troop 293, sponsored by St. James Parish in Ogden. When I was a professional scout I worked with St. James, where the scoutmaster was Mr. Remkes. He told me how as a boy he had been a Boy Scout in the Netherlands during the Nazi occupation. It was a capital offense to be a Boy Scout under the Nazis, but his troop met secretly every week until liberation. I guess rain isn't much of a challenge compared to the Nazis. In another camp I got a hug from Tim Moser, a former staff member, up here with his troop. At Cheyenne the troop, some of whom were my former students from Layton High, lined up and saluted me. So many colors, so much sunshine, so many good things that would not have come without the rain.