On this day, May 22, 1990, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I am 32, and have lived 21 of those with diabetes.

While I would never wish diabetes on anyone else, I celebrate this day. I’m a person who doesn’t like it (I don’t get angry, just don’t like it) when someone says “I wish you never had to go through that” or “I wish I could take it away from you.” My perspective on diabetes is that…I’ve been blessed with it.

Other than a wonderful addiction to Diet Mountain Dew (best drink on Earth), many things in my life are direct result of having diabetes…my wife , kids, confidence, sense of “wandering with a purpose,” hundreds of friendships with others with diabetes, a career where I get to work and play with both a part of the job description, a shared bond of diabetes with my sister – and did I mention the introduction to the wonderful beverage of Diet Mt. Dew? I don’t believe in coincidence, and as a Christian, I don’t think that God gives anything that we cannot handle. Diabetes is something that I have handled, and continue to handle, and use as a gift. This doesn’t mean I don’t have my bad days…my “burnout” days. But those days are outnumbered 100 to 1 by the good days. Not too bad to me when I imagine the unhealthy person I could have been without diabetes, or life without Sarah (who I don’t believe I would have met without diabetes) and, as a result, Josiah and Susan. I wouldn’t trade those things away.

So I’m looking forward to another 21 years…and much more. In celebration, I plan on having…Diet Mt. Dew. Maybe even a couple. Hey, why change a good thing?

One month ago today my job ended at The Barton Center.  For three-and-a-half years as the Camp Joslin Director, and two with all the camps, it was my home.  Both literally and figuratively.  Working there one minute, and not the next was a very confusing, emotional parting at first…which then downgraded into just plain emotional.  And while the rational part of me has now accepted that (and believes it to be the best thing for me), there are still those occasional “please leave me alone” emotional spots.  I’ve crossed through that event horizon from one world into another (imagine the “Stargate” television series, walking through the gate…or rather being pushed through it).  As the website title (not to mention the post title) implies, I have often thought of myself as a wanderer with a purpose.  I usually have a pretty good sense of direction.  And only at a few times now do I find myself thinking I’m lost…wandering aimlessly…instead of wandering with a goal in mind.

As I was thinking tonight about the past month I took a look at my blog post from March 20, 2005, when I left my hospital lab job and my home camp, Camp Seale Harris, in Alabama.  While I wasn’t at Camp Joslin, Clara Barton Camp, or the Day Camps for 15 years like I was at CSH, they have all been homes for me.  They have all allowed me to actually enjoy my work for the majority of the time, which is more than some people can say about their careers/jobs.  They all allowed diabetes to be a part of my work, and not just a part of who I was at that time.

I quote from my blog post in 2005 — “Because of it [my diabetes] and His grace, I am able to provide an environment where my wife and soon-to-be-son will, along with myself, grow spiritually as well as professionally.”  And you know what?  I believe that all of that happened.  I even got a daughter out of it, as well. 

So…another era of my life has ended.  As with the last one, it is scary.  But when I’m not in one of my now-occasional emotional points, I am excited about the unknown next step.  I (now) truly hope that I will still be in diabetes camping but that is up to God’s guidance and my perserverance and patience.

I’d be foolish and a liar if I told you that I wasn’t also thinking about the people that I have been blessed and honored to meet over the last five plus years through these camps.  I’ve shared quite a few laughs, tears and serious moments with quite a few people.  But I think I’ll save that for another evening’s post…

So until then, good night all.  I think I may have rambled enough for tonight…Happy Thanksgiving!

This summer has been one of the toughest of both my personal and professional lives. It has been composed of being away from my wife and kids for a month, the death of a good friend from camp, and a couple of other things that I’d rather not mention here yet. Add a heaping of self-doubt and I’ve got myself a…difficult summer.

But that’s not to say that the season didn’t have its good points. As always, the time I got to spend with campers and staff was awesome. It was also one of the best summers I’ve had as far as quality and dedication of staff.

I compare this summer to a really good movie. Like the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It is a great series filled with joy, heartache, laughter, sadness, action, and rest. And while it seems that, at times, that you never want it to end there are times that you wish it could be over. Inevitably, however, no matter what you wish for — it will end. It is a sad thing for the end to come but you find solace in the fact that it was a happy ending.

That is where I am now. The season is coming to an end and there is nothing I can do to change that. As with a couple of other things connected to that — I am a conflicted man (and probably will be for the near future). I am watching the ship sail out and wondering what adventures await me as I stand on shore. I know they shall be grand adventures, but I sometimes wonder what the people on that ship will experience.

So the current adventure is over. After watching the ship sail into the west and the sunset, I find myself wiping away the tears of sadness, turning around and walking to the new sunrise that I know will be approaching after a while. It just means a bit of traveling and wandering through the nighttime.

ad astra per aspera — “a rough road leads to the stars”
“not all who wander are lost” — J.R.R Tolkien

So, here begins the lack of sleep, the smiles of little campers, and the non-stop ride that is Summer Camp. I’ve been a part of it, being a camper or staff member, for the majority of my almost 28 years. So here I go with eyes wide open!

All of them.

All 75 campers…all 60+ staff…they’ve all gone home. Part of me is relieved to have a break…the other part of me misses them terribly.

I was around the staff members for between eight and ten weeks. Even though I may not be as good of friends with some of them because I’m the director…I still miss their presence. Each one of them, no matter their strengths and weaknesses, made a good impression on at least one child. They were my extended family, even if they didn’t realize it. Everyone that I’ve met at any camp in my camping life is part of that family.

So…the Summer of 2005 has ended…and while I’m saddened at its passing, I look forward to improving myself over the next nine months so I can be there for my staff next summer just as they’ve been there for me.

So…raise your bottle of glucose tabs…here’s looking forward to the Summer of 2006.

Today, for example, was a day full of smiles. I saw my son smile (goofy smile, of course) for five minutes straight just because I was making some silly noises while holding him. When walking from my house to the camp office, two campers came up to me, smiling, to tell me about a funny story a counselor had told them.

So — the moral of this story — are you having a bad day? Look at the children around you.

You really have to love this job to do it, whether you’re a Junior Counselor all the way up to my position as Camp Director. The dedication and willingness to put in six to seven 15-hour (sometimes more) days takes the last of one’s energy every day.

So here we go down the road of summer that we have travelled through many times. Successfully, I might add. The scars we have aren’t easily visible to the outside world — but here, at camp, we know that counselors are the most dedicated individuals you will ever find. And as a group, you will never find a more supportive family on the planet than they.

Here begins the Summer of 2005.

I can’t keep track of the days anymore. In a very good way (yes, there are bad ways) one day seems to blur into the next. The past six days have sped along, making me wonder…will the summer go too fast if I blink?

In other news…I’m counting down the days until Josiah arrives. If you didn’t know this, just take a look at the countdown clock on the left menubar. If it were up to Sarah, that clock would’ve reached zero two weeks ago!

Bring it on.

#1 — Josiah should be here soon! The due date is the 17th!

#2 — Camp is almost here! Staff arrive in four days — I’m psyched!

Wow…time really flies, doesn’t it?