The students’ conversation faded in the distance as they made their way to pack up their things in the bunkhouse. Our weekend religious retreat had come to an end. I stayed behind sitting on a bench that was part of a horseshoe around the camp fire pit. A small platform stage sat opposite me. Centered on it was a large cross where we placed symbols of our weekend. One student had brought a rock – a symbol of the strength of friendship. Another offered a hair clip – a device that helps hold it all together. I had offered the keys to the bus – a sign of the journey we all went on.

But what held my attention was the pink bra that hung on the cross.

I had simple hopes when I first began taking high school classes on weekend retreats. Teaching high school students is an energizing and tiring experience. Teenagers have boundless energy only matched by their goals and dreams for the future. They are also full of limitless questions, rarely willing to accept anything at face value, especially if it comes from the mouth of an adult. I hoped to find a way for the kids to escape the day-to-day distractions of boyfriends/girlfriends, family, and life in general to explore their own beliefs. I hoped they would see that is okay to have faith. At the very least, they would experience a great weekend together.

Each trip has exceeded my, and the student’s, expectations in surprising ways. The classes always are surprised by their own teamwork. Each group is given tasks that seem impossible. Arguments break out. Tempers rise. Then, with the understanding that they have nothing to loose, they balance for over an hour, cross chocolate – lava rivers, and leave marks over forty feet off the ground on trees.

Individuals learn more about themselves. I’ve seen the quiet girl become the leader mobilizing the entire group, even the adults. Episodes of strength and agility are demonstrated and we chase each other around the island. Everyone learns the value of perseverance by scaling 14-foot walls.

And the most powerful lesson is the value students learn to see in themselves. On almost every trip at least one student refuses to come along. I try to patiently question him as to the reasons. I reassure them that money is never a problem. One student, Charlie, gave the gamut of excuses. He had to work. His parents could not get him to the school to meet the bus. He finally admitted to me that he didn’t feel like he belonged in the class, that he had no friends. When it came time to leave he was there and he came along. At first he didn’t try some of the games. But he did share some of his feelings and thoughts in the group discussions. On the second afternoon we did an activity called “Faces of Jesus”. Each student gets a trace of his or her profile. Then they wander around the room writing something nice on each person’s ‘face’. There was a short break after. I watched as Charlie walked up to the bunkhouse.

“Do you want to play football with us, Charlie?” I called after him.

“No. I think I’ll take a nap.”

I later walked into the bunkhouse. Charlie was not sleeping. He was lying on his bunk staring at the comments on his paper from his classmates. He and I both shed a tear at the end of the trip when he thanked me for making him go.

It was time to go. I picked up the bus keys from the cross and sighed. The weekend wasn’t quite over, but the bus ride home would not last forever. In another month and a half this class would graduate and go their own ways. I hoped that again, this would be a weekend each student would remember. I also hoped it would be weekend they could draw upon for strength when life gets tough. Perhaps a few would have new faith in God and Jesus. I prayed the seeds that got planted here at camp would find fertile soil.

And then a student walked up. She blushed and grabbed her bra.

“You should have told me we were going to put our symbols on a cross, Mr. Collins.”

“I’m sorry,” I laughed. “Why the bra?”

“It’s kind of stupid,” she paused. I shook my head. “Well, this weekend we all supported each other. And this bra, well, offers support and helps things stay together.” She walkedquickly away, clearly embarrassed.

So, I learned another lesson in finding meaning in strange places.