Imagine standing at the top of a 300-foot grassy slope on the rim of a pristine canyon. The chin strap of your helmet is snugly fastened. Elbow, knee, and hip pads are secure. You stand, not on the grass, but on a mountain board (a snow board on wheels), and the last thing you do before heading down the slope is slide your hands into your protective leather gloves. Oh, and by the way, you're blind.

Year after year, mountainboarding was the favorite activity for our blind campers (followed closely by water-skiing). None of my staff were brave enough to try it (blind folded), but our blind campers couldn't get enough. You should have seen their faces as they swooshed down the hill, holding on to their counselor's hand, as he or she ran alongside, trying to keep up.

I've thought of those campers from time to time with wonder and amazement—at their courage, their sense of adventure, and their complete trust and confidence in those responsible for their safety. I'm puzzled by the fact that their inability to see has not taken away their freedom, their sense of adventure, and their joy for living. I admire them. I wish I had that degree of trust in my Counselor.

"Lord, give me the faith and the courage to trust You to care for me, whatever challenge I face. And help me to face it with joy, confidence, and a sense of adventure, because I know You are with me."

Gary Burns is the Lake Union Conference communication director.