Mystery At Camp Paradise, Chapter 1
January 3, 2025
Dear Nieces & Nephews,
Here's is the story I promised in my last letter. It's a work in progress, so please send any editing suggestions my way!
Much Love,
Aunt Michelle
The front door flew open with a furious blast, and a stranger entered from the darkness. The “Camp Paradise – Guests Welcome” sign had beckoned him as it swung wildly in the wind, striking its post with steady “ker-thwumps.” He had followed the arrow back until another sign reading “Lodge” greeted him at a large, cheerily lit cabin. It clearly was a camp, as the sign said, with shadows of smaller cabins peeking from behind each other on all sides. But paradise? Well, the scene that greeted him as he stepped inside the lodge took the traveler’s breath away for a different reason.
Unnoticed, he wiped his wet feet on the entry rug, lifted his goggles and allowed the water to run off his raincoat as he surveyed the spacious room he had entered.
It was bedlam.
“What is bedlam,” you ask? Well, it doesn’t mean children who have bathed, brushed, pajama’d, and kissed their parents goodnight are heading peacefully up the stairs. Like lambs going to bed. No, that is not what bedlam means.
In this case it did involve children … quite a number of them. But they were throwing things at each other.
“Pillows?” you ask. “Were they having a pillow fight?”
I’m sorry to say they were not. It had started as a pillow fight. But then Rubi couldn’t find a pillow fast enough and had grabbed a shoe instead. This Ty took fully on the jaw when an unexpected move put him in its path. He in turn had kicked Rubi furiously in the knee, only she had moved just in time to expose Jamari’s shin. Howling in pain, Jamari wound up for a hard swing to Ty’s gut, but Ty saw it coming and dove for cover under the coffee table, wiping out Aleks on the way by. He went flying facedown and added to the growing monkey pile. Tiana, the littlest, wouldn’t stop screaming because Rubi had taken her shoe (the shoe that had begun it all). Rubi screamed back that Tiana shouldn’t have left her shoe on the floor in the first place. Tiana lunged at Rubi and tripped over the pile, adding the final layer. That started Rubi laughing, which pitted all the others against her. They were in the process of untangling themselves and throwing books, legos and more misplaced shoes at her when the stranger walked in.
Was there no mom or dad around? Yes. Both, actually. But Dad’s face was buried in his newspaper. And Mom was just now running from the kitchen where she had been making popcorn.
“This ends … NOW!” Her exclamation was drowned out by the bedlam. (Do you understand the word by now?) She had just taken a deep breath to repeat herself when she saw the drenched stranger standing there with mouth hanging open. In an attempt to save face, she forced a smile, stepping over flying arms and legs to approach him. “They're wild things, aren't they?” she called out as she held out her hand. “I claim no responsibility! Welcome to Camp Paradise! I’m Teresa!”
He smiled graciously and shook her hand.
“Could you hang on for just one minute?” she asked, apologetically. Turning back to her brawling family she stomped her foot and cried out, with the intensity of the thunder outside, “Kids, you will stop NOW. Or you will spend the evening outside in THAT STORM.” Here her pointer finger flew in the direction of the picture window and confirmed that this would not be a pleasant choice. “WE HAVE A VISITOR.”
Bedlam halted. Six children flew to the couches. Dad, who had finally folded his newspaper and set it aside, rose to his feet.
“Welcome,” his deep voice greeted. “I’m James. And this is my family. Stand up kids.” They greeted the tall stranger with polite regard ... because they weren’t bad kids. They were good kids with noble hearts who simply had some growing up to do. The stranger’s eye-twinkle hinted that maybe he knew this and found them to his liking.
“I’m Raz,” the stranger replied. “I need a place to stay and was drawn by your sign. Do you have a bed available?”
“We sure do!” Dad replied. “We sure do!” (This would be their first paying customer since purchasing the camp, and funds were running low.) “Please take off your coat and tell us about yourself and how long you’ll be staying.”
Raz gave his boots a final wipe before removing them and tucking them neatly in the corner. He pulled off his hood, revealing a leather aviator hat and goggles underneath. He carefully placed these on the top shelf of the coat tree, and shrugged out of his long raincoat. This he held above the Ficus tree, giving it a few gentle shakes to water the plant before hanging it under his hat and goggles. The deliberateness of his movements lent an atmosphere of awe, and his spectators held their breath in silence. All eyes traveled from the man’s impressive figure to his hat and goggles, to the abstract artwork painted on the right shoulder of his brown leather jacket.
Dad came out of his reverie first, and gestured toward the largest recliner in the room (from which he had been catching up on the news).
“Please, sit down,” he encouraged.
Raz thanked him and sank into the chair with the kind of sigh a grandpa makes when he’s been on his feet too long. He did, actually, have the look and feel of an extraordinary yet comfortable grandpa, and the kids were drawn and fascinated by him. He had white, fluffy hair that stuck in many directions (as would be expected, having been under a hat in a rainstorm). His weathered skin had just enough wrinkles to indicate the probability of an outdoorsman about 70 years old. His bushy eyebrows loaned expression to his kind eyes that travelled from person to person, surveying each with returned curiosity and good humor.
Everyone else forgot to sit down. The kids gathered around Raz, Dad stood a few feet behind them, and Mom suddenly remembered her popcorn project.
“Oh my, the popcorn!” she exclaimed. “I’ll be right back with a snack!” and she flew off to the kitchen.
“That’s a pretty special mom you’ve got there,” Raz said. His voice held a grippingly kind authority. “Any mom that will make popcorn for her brood while they fight is to be honored above all,” and he winked at them. Their minds tossed and sorted this new concept, chinking it into usable storage. They had never thought about Mom’s popcorn like that before.
While they waited for Mom to return, it was Jamari who finally asked the question plaguing him. “Are you a pilot?”
Rather than wait for the answer, the rest of the kids took the cue to begin firing their own questions.
“Where did you come from?”“Why are you out in a storm at night?”“What are you doing way out here?”“Did you bring any candy?” (This was Tiana.)
Raz smiled and held out his hand to slow the torrent. “Whoa! All in good time, young ones!”
Mom re-entered the room with a large heaping bowl, and took a step back when she heard a hearty chorus of thank-you’s. Jamari rushed to her side to relieve her of the serving bowl, while Rubi took the dishes, scooped corn into them and passed them out. Mom sat down on the loveseat adjoining Raz’s chair with a surprised grin. Dad took the spot beside her, fed her a piece and amiably thumped her on the back, which sent it shooting back out. Laughter filled the room.
“I had a mission today which brought me in this direction,” Raz began after recovering, and the kids eagerly sat down on the floor in front of him. His twinkle deepened at the almost tangible question marks that hung over their heads. “When the storm came up, it seemed best to sit it out before making my way home.”
“Where’s home?” Jamari questioned.
“Oh, it’s a long way from here,” Raz replied. I expect it to take a good day of travel, and that’s with good weather. This doesn’t feel like a storm that plans to leave anytime soon.”
“No, the forecast says it could stick around a few days,” Dad interjected. “You can stay as long as you’d like. Last week we finished remodeling our first guest cabin for someone just like you, and I think you’ll find it charming and comfortable.”
“We’ll take it a day at a time,” Raz countered. “But before I sleep even a wink, I need to know all about these delightful young fighters here before me. I have a special place in my heart for people like these, but I need to know their strengths, weaknesses and tactics before risking a night attack over my shoes.” This brought a flush of rosy cheeks and embarrassed titters.
Dad cleared his throat and leaned forward from the loveseat to indicate each as he made his introductions.
“This is our oldest, Rubi,” Dad began. She’s fifteen and leader of the pack, even when she doesn’t want to be.” Rubi’s green eyes sparkled with friendliness from where she sat closest to him, but then quickly averted to the floor. Unperturbed, Raz took her hand, lifted it and bowed his head as though to a dignitary. She couldn’t help but smile and bow in return.
“Then it’s Jamari. Twelve, sparky, and determined to lay the world flat in his wake. When you see him coming, step aside or get pancaked.” Jamari grinned, revealing deep dimples and a mischievous glint, and returned the stranger’s nod and fist bump.
“Aleks is ten. He’s our thinker. He’ll analyze circles around any situation before making his move, and then he’ll stick by it no matter what. He’s our newest, just arriving two months ago.” Aleks dipped his head in reciprocated respect but didn’t make eye contact. Raz took his hand and held it until Aleks looked up. A friendship was born.
“Next, we have Ty, eight. He won’t be bending your ear! He seldom talks, and secrets are safe with him. If you need a listening friend, you’ll find it in Ty.” On hearing this, the stranger grew more serious, wrapped both his hands around one of Ty’s, emanating a deep compassion.
“Finally, we have Tiana. Tiana’s seven and full of sugar and spice. One moment you’ll think she’s the sweetest thing ever. The next your eyes will be watering as you wonder what hit you.” Ruby’s innocent brown eyes said, “The spice part is a figment of his imagination.” Raz tousled her hair.
The visitor sat back in his chair, set his bowl on the light stand next to him, sighed and looked at each of his new friends in turn.
“As many questions as there are awaiting answers, this old man is ready for a good night’s rest. How about you show me this new cabin you got ready for someone just like me?” he chuckled as he looked at Dad. “Thanks for the introductions! Now if the storm blows one in my door tonight, I’ll know what I’m up against.”
The kids sent up a chorus of disappointment. They hadn’t found out anything
about their new friend! But at Mom’s disapproving glance, they stood begrudgingly and watched as Raz deliberately donned his raincoat, boots, aviator’s hat, goggles, and finally the hood to keep them dry.
They waved good-bye as Dad led him out into the storm-soaked night.
Aleks gave his mattress a kick and sat up with a groan. 3:16. Why did he always have to wake up at 3:16? His 10-year-old bones were too sleep-heavy to move, his heart too anxious to rest. He knew he’d spend the next hour tossing and turning before drifting back into a troubled slumber with regret-filled dreams. Especially with that wind whipping the driving rain against his window.
His family had moved into the old camp on the shore of Lake Paradise just after they took him in earlier that summer. Aleks and his foster brothers and sisters felt adventure in the air the moment they took that first whiff of must and mice. And despite job assignments each morning, there were long afternoons to explore old cabins and sheds, swim, swing, and torment each other with the large population of spiders they lived with.
Dad and Mom had grown restless living in the city and had jumped at the opportunity to purchase and fix up the abandoned camp with their family.
Family. The word held a mixture of longing, hope and despair for Alex. He had spent his first nine years living on the streets with Pops (his biological dad), hiding from social services. “They’ll take you ‘way,” Pops would slur before slumping into another drunken stupor under the bridge on 4th Street. “Don’ let’m find you or we’ll never shee eash other agin.”
So that had been Aleks’ life. Hiding. Pretending. Lying. Whatever he had to do to not get taken away. “Taken away from what?”
he sometimes wondered, looking around at an unconscious Pops and his homeless community. Some pretended to be friends, but it was survival of the fittest and everyone knew it. Still, it was what Aleks knew, and he didn’t intend to get taken away.
Then one day it happened anyway. Aleks had seen a $5 bill clutched in Pop’s sleeping hand, and he’d taken it to buy a rarely enjoyed favorite: Cheetos. It was there at the gas station that the social worker had spotted him, and within an hour Aleks found himself, hugging his Cheetos bag like a teddy bear, in a small office waiting for a foster dad to come and take him away.
Even though his heart still ached, Aleks was glad. The Harts actually seemed to care. He always had a bed to sleep on, plenty to eat, and lots to do. Pops had never come out of his stupor long enough to try and get him back, and Aleks now saw him only in his dreams … raising a warning finger, slurring out the warning, “Don’ let ‘em find you!”
3:20. Aleks threw himself back down on the bed, flipped to his right, flopped to his left, then sat back up. Enough. He was bored, bored, bored. And he felt depressed, just lying there. He had to figure out something better to do with this hour that held his sleep captive each morning.
Slipping out of bed, he sneaked past his brothers to the shelving unit to feel for lantern and shoes. He dare not clad his feet yet, or little Tiana would be up and following him. She wouldn't be fun at all. Not at this hour! As he sneaked past her room, he peered in to see she was deep in sleep. Not watching where he was going, he stumbled with a start into Rubi, who was coming back from the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a half-whisper. “Why aren't you in bed?”“Can’t sleep.”“What you gonna do?”“Dunno.”“Better pray then. I can’t sleep either. Something feels dark and heavy, like there’s something wrong.”“OK.”
Aleks didn’t like being told what to do, but he was relieved Rubi wasn’t pushing to come with him. And something was different about her … he wanted to do what she said because she did it herself. Besides, she was nice. And right. He felt the darkness and heaviness too. He guessed he could send a prayer in God’s direction.
God’s direction? Where was God?
Part of him believed God was real if the Harts said He was, but He seemed a world away and Aleks didn’t know how to cross the divide.
He gave it a shot anyway.
“Dear God, please take away the darkness and heaviness,”
he whispered. “And help me not be so bored!”
Surprised at his own request and wondering what God must have thought of it, he shrugged and put the thought out of his mind.
Looking out the doorway window at the driving rain in the early morning darkness, Aleks thought better of his shoes and put on a pair of boots and a rain poncho from the coat tree. Memories of Raz came flooding back, with renewed wonderings of the intriguing stranger. Maybe today would hold some answers.
He did his best to shut the door quietly behind himself as he made a mad dash out into the torrent. Out of the corner of his eye, Lake Paradise to his right did not look welcoming. It was to the dilapidated cabins on his left that he ran, barely illuminated by the camp’s one yard light and the waning moon.
The banging of an unlatched screen door “th-wapping” in the wind drew him to a deeply shadowed cabin behind several others. Leaping up the step onto the door stoop, he threw the screen door open, thrust himself against the heavier door behind it and jumped inside, slamming it behind him. Breathing deeply, he was surprise by the aroma of garlic, turmeric and cumin that greeted him.
He held his lantern up and looked around the one-room cabin. He saw nothing to indicate food, but a mouse scurried for cover. Or a rat. Following the movement, he discovered a softball-size hole in the baseboard.
Should he turn around and find a more welcoming place? Or stay out of the rain and see what was behind that smell? He stood and pondered this for a while, examining every angle in his mind, just the way Dad had described to Raz.
"I asked God to help me not be bored, so I'd better not be chicken!" he muttered to himself. Taking a deep breath for courage, he let his curiosity lead him several steps forward to the rodent hole.
Kneeling and peering inside, he was surprised to see the glint of metal reflecting his light. He reached in and pulled out an old skeleton key, thick with the fuzz of dust and webs. Curiosity gripped him, and his pulse quickened as he examined it in the shadowed light.
What was it for?
Slowly, his eyes wandered over the walls of the cabin. There were no doors except the one leading outside. Walking toward it to give the key a try, he stumbled over a piece of hardware sticking up from the floor. Dropping to his knees, the thumping of his heart deepened. He was dimly aware that something inside of him, something even larger than anticipation, was pulling him like a magnet to the edge of something new in this very old cabin.
The hardware was a hinge.
Now, Aleks was almost as smart as you, my dear readers, and he knew that a hinge had to mean a door. Searching the boards around it with lantern and fingers, he eventually made out the full outline of a hatch which blended perfectly with the floor. And hidden opposite the hinges, he found the keyhole he was looking for. The key fit in loosely, and it took a lot of wiggling twists before he felt it bite into the right spot. He gave it a hard turn, and it made a satisfying clunk.
What had he just unlocked?
A little more exploration of the floorboards revealed a missing knot hole. Reaching his fingers inside he pulled upward and felt a slight give. Scrambling to his feet, he set his lantern down, braced himself for better leverage, slipped both hands into the opening crack, and gave the heavy door a mighty heave. With a groaning creek, it opened upward.
He had unthinkingly set his lantern on the hatch, and the surprise of its toppling crash caused Alex to stumble backward. As he fell to the floor, he gave the door a final thrust. With a thud it reached its hinges’ limit, stopping just short of crushing the still-lit lantern underneath. As he pulled himself into a sitting position at the edge of the new and deeper darkness that loomed in front of him, he grabbed for the light and sat panting and acclimating to the new void.
It was the opening to a stairwell.
Should he take it down and explore what lay underneath? Alone? In the dark?
As he trembled with exertion and excitement, it wasn’t hard to decide. There was no turning back now.
Dear Nieces & Nephews, Images of you have been filling my mind this morning. You’re going through so much. I want to be with you in it. But lives have put physical distance between us, along with the invisible barriers that come with full homes and schedules ... only to be crossed at special events and chance encounters at Costco. I sure do want this to change. Being with each other really is a very big deal. It’s the substance of relationship. Jesus wanted his disciples with him when he was entering his darkest hour. He brought them to Gethsemane with him. When he told them he was overwhelmed with grief and sorrow to the point of death (pretty vulnerable), it’s remarkable that they fell asleep on him. It’s not like He had a victim mentality and talked that way all the time. “I want someone with me in my pain,” is central to the human heart, and I believe mirrors God’s. Yet how often do we sleep through our loved ones’ pain? Or defend ourselves in it? Or analyze it? Or devalue it by trying to rationalize it away? Yesterday was the portion of Resurrection Weekend that experiences Jesus’ pain with him, that watches and prays with him, that doesn’t try to explain anything away or fix anything, but just stays with Him. I'm going to give it another day. What does that MEAN for me today, Lord? What does it LOOK like? Watch and pray f or WHAT? There are no soldiers for me to watch for. Perhaps I am just to watch. ??? Why is this so hard? I want to know what to watch for. And I want to know what to do when I see it. But you haven’t told me that yet. And if I try to prepare for it, I’ll bring along a sword and cut off someone’s ear, or something equally rash. JUST WATCH. AND PRAY. AND BE WITH HIM. Be with Him in His pain. Be with my family members in their pain. Don’t try to fix anything. Don’t defend myself. Don’t analyze it or assign blame. JUST WATCH. AND PRAY. AND BE WITH THEM. And remember. I didn’t prepare for this at all, but I’m going to set up our kitchen island with the closest thing I have to bread and wine, and serve a day-long communion. I'm going to remember what my Savior did for me as I watch and pray, and invite Uncle Kerry and your cousins to do it with me. And I'll be remembering YOU, my nieces and nephews. Maybe I can’t be with you, but I remember you. I am praying for you. And I am watching for any points of reconnection. All my love, Aunt Michelle
Dear Nieces & Nephews, We moms put a lot of thought into making sure our kids know enough. Especially when we’re homeschooling, it can become all-consuming. Everything runs through the filter of, “Do my kids need to know this?” or, “How can I help them understand that?” “Will they survive without knowing that thing they have no interest in?” becomes more prevalent as they get into their upper high school years. We know their bents and their battles and choose carefully. Frankly, we'd all do well to apply the same strategy. Maybe it’s time we slacken the line of fear over all we don’t know, and just embrace what life is teaching us in the moment. Especially the hard things. Go ahead and marinate. It’s a lot more effective than a thousand pings of slight recognition from a text book. Thaddeus and Kieran have taught me more about learning from the nitty gritty of life than anyone else. I used to call them our “Dopternal Twins” (twins through adoption). With just two months separating them, they became a formidable duo that took the world by storm the day they locked eyes in parallel play and discovered that combining forces could triple the noise and excitement. Synergy. For some reason, they decided early-on the same thing Uncle Terry used to tell me growing up: That everything I know is wrong. Until proven right. Or at least interesting. This made for an interesting dynamic in our homeschool. They learned to read standing on their heads off the back of the couch. Every subject was made as tangible as possible, and stories were woven into everything ... along with lots and lots of life. We began each day with FPT (Family Project Time), ran our home businesses together, and hosted streams of people and events. When the boys were in 5th Grade, we discovered the Madison Area Home Schoolers basketball team. The first time I saw them play on a team, I wept tears of relief as I saw the good that could come out of their dynamic synergy. Not only were they quick, intense and skillful, they also had the kind of connection that left onlookers breathless, passing the ball blind to each other with uncanny precision. Now they’re 18. Graduation is right around the corner. Life has taken a lot of turns and they’re on different paths. They are still learning some things academically, but mostly we are amazed at what life is teaching them. It’s slow and hard and painful, but so much more effective than books full of random facts. Whenever we see them embrace life, we rejoice. Three flat tires in a month? Wow, is he getting good at changing tires! A friend taking advantage of him? He's figuring out the balance of boundaries and forgiveness. Two parking tickets for the same infraction? (Turns out City of Madison and UW Madison parking enforcements have overlapping jurisdiction during state basketball tournaments.) A whole load of life going on in this one! You get the idea. Yes, life can be painful but it’s such a good teacher. I wonder what it’s teaching you today? Embrace it! Love, Aunt Michelle
Reclaim Your Living Room
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