The Hand of the Lord is on Us

You hem me in behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

Where ever I go; what ever I speak; what ever I think; He knows it completely... and in spite of our ignorance and shortcomings, He keeps His hand on us: directing, leading, encouraging, providing, and admonishing us when and where it is needed. I am convinced about this as we work at Hidden Acres; God's hand is on us and is the guiding source of all we do.

My days are short before I move into my tent at the site of the new motel; on Sunday, I will give up comfort, a/c, and my chair and coffee in the morning for a tent. I will stay overnight in this tent for 30 nights; I will have my morning devotions in the tent, drink my morning coffee in the tent, and watch camp wake up slowly. I will wake up early; hours before the rest of the camp is moving about. I will see the flag being raised each morning; I will watch the flag taken down each night. I will hear excessive noise and late night activities; some sanctioned, and some not so sanctioned or encouraged by the camp. I am looking forward to the month. Perhaps I won't hear much news about the politics of the summer; perhaps I won't know if the corn prices have hit $7 per bushel; perhaps it might be just the thing to do to clear the mind from the noise of our nation.

The tent is a temporary home; not a place where we want to accumulate lots of extra stuff; just those things that are necessary in life. No pictures on the walls, little furniture, and nothing on the floor: there is little to keep track of; little to dust; and even less to organize and straighten up each day. More time to ponder, more time to think, more time to relate to friends and family, more time for exercise and write.

The Hand of the Lord has been on me. I have seen it over the 24 years at Hidden Acres. I have seen the Lord's hand in and on our daily activity. I have seen His hand with each building we build, with each new program we begin, with each staff we hire.

I trust you can read as I write more often this coming month of the days in the tent. I am praying for insight, new direction for myself and the camp, and for a fresh understanding of what it means to have His hand upon me each day. I am praying that the Lord supplies our needs as we begin the building; to keep us safe; to supply the funds and the workers, and to go before us and make our decision making process accurate and effective.

earldtaylor@yahoo.com

Carpet Ball and Life

I love the concept of carpet ball; everyone can win and past champions can be beat; there is little skill needed, only persistence and a good strong arm; but even the arm is not that important.

The activity is an equalizer; a 3 year old can compete against adults and adults can play with their kids; and both will enjoy the activity. There isn't many games that will please all people; basketball and baseball takes talent; with carpet ball, you just show up to the table and play; if you lose one game, you fall back in line and try again until you are anointed champion for the minute or for the hour.

I have watched educated grown men who are full of profound thoughts spend an hour at throwing pool balls back and forth; no thoughts, no efforts, no issues: only simple competition that should drive everyone.

I like competition; I am not afraid of competition. Our culture wants to eliminate it; they want everyone to be the recipients of blue ribbons; in the name of self esteem... they make everyone the champion in schools. My grand daughter came home with a medal the other day for reading progress; her mother said, "Everyone got the medal!" Wow! That must mean everyone is reading at an accelerated rate... but I doubt it.

Through healthy competition, the cream rises to the top; the best gets recognized and rewarded; hard work is rewarded; the sloven and lazy get nothing. We lost it as a nation in the 60's when we started handing out checks to those who didn't want to work; within 40 years we now have a nation full of people who feel entitled to something free without any effort. They have learned the system and they work it with the skill of a surgeon; they know what to do to claim disability payments and line up for the next hand out.

Let's apply the carpet ball principle to our culture; everyone is equal, but only those who stick with it and apply themselves wins. If you are too lazy to throw the ball, don't expect to rise to the top and become the camp champion; or the best reader in the class; or the best counselor; or the best car salesman! I am not big on whiners, but doers.

Now get out there and start throwing the pool balls!

earldtaylor@yahoo.com

Family Camps at Hidden Acres

We are right in the middle of Memorial Day family camp; over 400 people are enjoying the extra cool weather and a little rain and mud; but most are die-hard family campers and would attend regardless of weather predictions or high gas prices: they see attending family camp as a tradition they don't/won't give up. It is worth of trouble and the expense to create some special memories for their families.

This is my 24th Memorial Day family camp. I still am just as pleased to see our families return; I love it when they invite their friends and family members along to share their weekend. I am even more pleased when a second generation family camper returns with their small children. It was important to them, and now they want their children to have similar memories.

There is more value to family camp than just memories: I see good wholesome, safe fun to be the glue to keep active families together. It is hard for dads to slow down enough to sit around a fire with his kids and just poke at the sparks and talk about things that seem insignificant at the time; child babble it could be called. But occasionally, out of the mouth of a babe, a life truth might be said, or a particular insight into the heart of a child will be revealed to the parent. What parent doesn't get surprised at what really make their kids tick when we stop long enough to listen.

Parenting can be tough, but it can be a real lasting blessing if done with care and with active involvement in the lives of our offspring. Cooking meals outside with less than ideal conditions teaches principles to children like, "Even when it ain't perfect... keep at it... don't stop when frustrated... or if you don't work, you don't eat. Sleeping in a soggy tent ain't fun, but I have yet to see a family melt due to a early morning rain shower. " A weekend at family camp might be one of the few times a family really has to rough it together. And roughing it is good!! Life isn't about convenience and always having comfort in order to be content and happy. Being content in the rough times, only makes those occasional, knock your socks off sunsets even more beautiful and meaningful. Life ain't the Holiday Inn, as a matter of fact, it is more often the Inn experience... with little holiday. There is nothing wrong being in the Inn... surrounded by hay, and sheep, and an old goat or two.

I spoke with a couple my age yesterday; they have been coming to family camp for 22 years; they were waiting for their daughter and her family to arrive at camp. They reflected warmly about the years past; the wet ones, the cold ones, the warm ones, the years the fish bit, the years the mosquito's bit, and the years the speakers spoke to their hearts. All added up to a rich tradition that they would not be traded for all the hotel stays of their life time. They don't run as hard as they used to run, but they love sitting in the Family Life Center and watching camp go running by the window; knowing that their grandchildren can/will be a part of something special too.

See you at Labor Day.

Imprinting: Transferring actions and attitudes

I see it all the time in the animal world; ma and pa goose teaches and emulates proper goose behavior and methods of survival; "Watch what I do and how and what I eat and you will survive to fly south someday," they seem to be saying to the gosling off-spring. Sometimes I wish it was that easy with young people.

I don't know if you have noticed, but young people think differently than we did as teenagers; we lived somewhat simple lives; there were very few outside influences on our lives; our parents, family, church, and our friends pretty much was our world; we were not connected to the outside world's culture. What was going on in California stayed in California; we were quite content to live the rural, bucolic life style of a farm family in Iowa.

Not so today; every kid is bombarded from loud voices from all ways of life; the school teaches multi-culturalism, and a form a rebellion from our parents ways. TV and the Internet brings with its entertainment, but also all kinds of compromises and filth. What we were taught as children as to be wrong or sinful, in today's world nearly everything goes and everything is acceptable.

Imprinting: I try to change the way our summer staff think about their summer ministry; sometimes they respond, other times, they fight me and call my thinking outdated and old. I do try to instill certain behaviors that I find necessary: i.e., no excessive hardware stuck in various parts of ones head; no hats on backwards; no sloppy look in dress; look people in the eye when you talk to them; watch what you watch at the movies and on TV; memorize entire chapters in the Bible; get into the Word every day; cool the secular music and don't get carried away with wild and crazy Christian music (if you can call it Christian!).

I have seen an institution go to pot when someone doesn't stand up and hold certain principles of action as a guiding force; when someone doesn't hold up acceptable behavior patterns, it becomes tyrannical; out of control; the late 1960's revisited. During the first week of camp, we instruct the counselors that they need to conform to our standards. What is acceptable back home may not be acceptable at camp; it isn't a matter of right and wrong... it is about what is acceptable behavior while at camp.

Why should we be so fussy about how a counselor looks like or how they act? We have nearly 2000 young campers who attend Hidden Acres. Each camper comes from different backgrounds, different family situations, different traditions. Many campers are home schooled; their families might have a more conservative flavor to their family; while other campers might not have any church background and find everything acceptable. Our motto is always error on the conservative side.

Most people forget that it has been the seniors of our district that has given the money to develop the camp. I always tell the staff, "Don't being doing something or acting a certain way that would offend your grandmother." I would like to think that any guest that pops into camp would find the actions of the staff as acceptable and positive. Hidden Acres is every ones camp; I don't want one particular generation over-running and controlling the flavor of Hidden Acres.

Besides, I too want the staff to be able to fly south someday; successfully and without any baggage in their lives that will drag them down. Keeping a tight reign on the camp is not about me and what I want; it is about helping young people think through behavior patterns and the affect of bad choices that will scar their lives for years to come.

Appointments to Miracles

We held our annual Spring Fling yesterday for our seniors; John Eilers from the Indianola Free Church spoke to the 40+ folks who made the trip to camp. What a wonderful day together with old friends of the camp!!

John shared his testimony of how he came to know the Lord; he was in his late 30's when he accepted Christ; he had lived an unfulfilled life up to that point... a life with alcohol that clouded his perspective and brought heartache to his life. But what a transformation when Christ got a hold of him. From a pagan to a preacher. From a life without purpose, to a spirit led life. A new creation.

In the afternoon session, John shared from his book about appointments to miracles; short stories of people and opportunities that he used to share his faith. John said, "I am a chiropractor that loves to share about Jesus!" He saw and took every encounter as a divine appointment to share his faith.

I missed one last week; I was standing in Walmart in Independence Iowa picking up a trout stamp and turkey license. An older gentlemen approached me and said, "I bet I have done something you haven't done; I was nearly blown up in Sioux City, at a local grain elevator. Five guys were killed, and I was the only one who survived." All I could say was, "You should thank the Lord for your life." He was 70+ years old... and may never hear the gospel message, and I blew it. Lord help me to see opportunities as appointments to share all that the Lord has done for me.

Divine appointments: are we praying for them or avoiding them? Do we see everybody we come into contact with as a potential hearer of the Word? At the end of our lives are we going to have a trophy room of junk or a room full of testimonies from people that we shared our faith with?

Pray for the summer staff that they too take advantage of every possible opening to share their faith with each camper.

Working for Earl

I have hired a lot of kids in my days; over a 100 kids each summer for over 20 years; I have been around long enough to see how they have turned out! Some have surprised me, others have disappointed me, while others turned out just as I had expected.

Kids come to camp with little or no work experience; mowing grass or a paper route or babysitting is all they can list on their meager resumes. That's o.k. I would rather be the first one to work with them. I want to be the one to instill a work ethic that will follow them along all the rest of their days.

Some say I yell alot. Some say I am a little bit mean. Others would say I am pushy and demanding of the kids who work for me. I would say all of the above. I have heard through the grape vine that their is a group on face book or myspace called "I was almost fired by Earl". I will wear that badge proudly; not because I want to make a kid's life miserable, but I am glad they understand they are under our authority at the camp and are accountable to me or other staff. I don't mind if there is some honest fear; I want them to know that I would be disappointed if they don't follow instructions or if and when they have a lapse in judgement creating a sticky situation between the camp and a parent.

I received a nice note the other day from a former counselor/intern. She is now nearly 30 years old, married and a mother. Let me share what Stephanie wrote:

Hey Earl! I was just reading one of your blogs from March in which you commented on growing the summer staff in their work habits and it prompted a flashback in my mind...

Two lessons I learned working at camp: 1. Never say "that's not my job." and 2. Get in there and take care of it.To elaborate a bit...1. I recall, "Never say 'that's not my job,'" being one of your mantras and I think it greatly affected my work ethic. I often quote you when people to this day comment on my willingness to pitch in and do whatever is needed - regardless of whether or not it's part of my "job."2. My first day interning, I headed out to clean the bathrooms in the girls' cabin area and the cottages. I found 2 dead mice in a cottage toilet. It was surprising and gross, but I got them out no problem and moved on. When I looked in the first stall of the bathrooms in the girls' cabin area I discovered a large, bloated, squirrel deep in the toilet. I really hesitated for awhile about whether I could stomach it or if I should go get Greg or one his rookies working under him to take care of it for me. I went outside for a breath of fresh air and grabbed two sticks. I pulled that dead critter out with the sticks and moved on with the work day. When asked in my interview for my first teaching job to describe a difficult work experience that I overcame, this is the experience I described. They were impressed with me and hired me. One of the administrators commented on my relaying of that story a couple of years later and how impressed she was with my "can do" spirit that revealed. I'm still not sure whether they were impressed with my perceived ability to teach or just wanted to keep me on hand in case any other rodents showed up in a toilet. I taught middle schoolers... it was possible.

Stephanie Haila



If you are a parent sending your child off to work for us at Hidden Acres; relax! We will take care of your child. We will view him/her differently than you; we have very little history in your child's past. In our minds, they will have a clean slate to start their work history with us. What they do while at camp will depend on their character and their ambition. I always tell the kid, if you are lazy at camp, you will be lazy as an adult; so when calls come from future employers, I have a long memory and will be brutally honest about the former staff member.

It pleases me most when I can say, "Hire her!! Absolutely a great kid!" And more often than not, I do get to say that. But occasionally, I have to say, "Bad attitude in general. Lazy or sloppy in habits and character." It is crucial that each summer staff understands their role in making the camp successful. It is crucial that summer staff realizes that what they do now and the decisions they make during a summer has potential to influence future earnings.

For you parents that will be giving up your child for the summer: thanks! Thanks for letting us put them under our umbrellas of authority; and thanks for reinforcing what we say. You will hear from your child, "They expect us to work so hard. They get in our face when we miss up. They sometimes even discipline us." Be like my dad who said, "Son if you are sent to the principles office for discipline while in school, you get the same from me or worse when you get home!" Meaning: I got two spankings in one day. I used to tell my children, "Suck it up and get back in there and do even a better job next week!"

I trust you see my heart. I really ain't a meanie. I really don't enjoy yelling and reprimanding a kid; my blood pressure doesn't need spiked. I do what I do in order to train and mold these kids in future great employees. I don't always see the potential from every staff members; several of our former counselors are now doctors, lawyers, business owners, and pastors/missionaries. There were a few youngsters that I thought would not amount to much; boy did they prove me wrong. There were others that showed all kinds of personality and potential, who have gone on and done nothing with their lives... some even abandoning their faith and moral values and chosen life styles that are contrary to Scripture... those break my heart.

Hidden Acres is in the business to train young people to return home and re-connect with their local church as effective leaders and teachers and mentors. I trust you have seen this happen.

Old Friends

Earl and Norman in 4th grade!

Few things in life are more comforting than having old friends; not aged friends, but friends with whom you go back a long way in your life; somebody you started grade school with; somebody you sat in Sunday school class with; somebody you went to camp with. When you get 60 or 70 years old, and life has turned you out to pasture, friends can be a real blessing and encouragement in our retired years.

I heard a good story from Dave Martin the other day; he was excited about seeing two old grade school friends; Dave is now 78 years old; so these are friends from over 70 years ago. 3 boys who played together, went to school together, and lived right next to each other; one became a priest in the Catholic church, one became a penticostal preacher, and Dave became a Free church pastor and retired as the Superintendent of the Central District of the Free Church. Dave will travel back to Northern Wisconsin next month to reconnect with these two childhood friends; he will go back in time with these two friends, remembering the past and renewing the tie that bound them together as youngsters. I am certain, that if these three boys' kindergarten teacher was still alive: knowing that the three went on to be in the ministry might have shocked her.

I too had a childhood friend that I have not forgotten over the years; as a 4th grader I began a friendship with a boy named Norman Dentlinger; a kid whose family was poor; a kid that didn't excel in school; a kid who was a bit shy and with drawn from the others. I wrote a story about Norman at Christmas time a few years ago; I will share with you again:


My daughter arrived home from college tonight; she had called earlier in the day and said she was bringing a friend. I was a little taken back when I stepped outside to greet my daughter; I could see her friend was struggling with her baggage. She walked with a limp, her knees were turned in and she wore thick glasses, with limited eye sight.
As we sat in the living room, tears came to my eyes because I was seeing the exact image in myself 35 years later. We had moved when I was going into the fourth grade. I was ready for the move. My dad had recently remarried after a 1961 divorce. We settled into the community, and I started school in Miss Sorenson’s class.
In 1964, there were no special education classes, only three levels of students: the smart, the average, and the slow. We had 3 slow students in my 4th grade class. Dave, Patty, and Norman. I was average to smart.
No one wore tennis shoes to school in 1964, but dress shoes. Norman didn’t wear either; he wore a heavy type above-the-ankle work boot that was sturdy, bulky, and enduring. From his feet to his head, Norman dressed different than the other kids. His coat and jeans were not stylish, but straight cut denims that a 30 year old farm hand would wear. He wouldn’t eat the 35 cent school lunches, instead he would carry his lunch of heavy dark bread sandwiches full of last night’s meat. I ate the Friday fish stick lunches and drank the 2 cent milk.
I wasn’t the biggest kid on the play ground, but I remember watching after Norman. I always made sure he was included in kick ball games at recess and would not allow the other boys to poke fun or mimic Norman. He was not overly gifted in running and throwing, but he was extra strong in arms and chest.
When Christmas came around in 1964, my dad was making around $3000 per year. I didn’t know we were the poor ones. I remember having our Sunday school Christmas program prior to Christmas school vacation. I remember the good hard candy and chocolates that were passed out to each child in the brown paper sack. I saved mine.
I took it to school on Monday morning, gift wrapped in a box and slipped it to Norman over lunch. He never said much. I never received a thankyou, but I knew I had done the right thing that Christmas. I haven’t seen Norman since grade school. I heard he never made it through high school. I moved away when we finished 8th grade.
I doubt my daughter’s friend got asked to visit somebody’s home often during her 4 years at Moody Bible. I am glad that apple’s don’t fall very far from the tree. I am glad that some things can be taught and others things are pure instinct.
And to you my old friend Norman, Merry Christmas to you again, 42 years later.

I called Norman last winter after stumbling onto his name in a phone book; he hadn't moved from Coon Rapids in over 50 years. I was all excited to hear how his life turned out; I had hoped he had went on and made something out of himself; that he had created a new life different than his childhood days. The sad part is: he hadn't: and even sadder to me, he didn't even remember me. I had not forgotten his name or even what he looked like for 44 years; he couldn't even recall who I was. I listen as he told me where he worked and a bit about his family. He had married, he had children; but nowhere did I ever hear about a conversion or even a changed life.

I need to go and see him one of these days; I can't change his past 53 years of his life; I doubt if anyone has ever shared with him about a relationship with Christ. I want to do that now; I want him to remember me just as I have often reflected on him and his childhood days. I want his name written in the Lamb's book of Life; where no one will be forgotten.