Camp DeSoto

I've been thinking recently, how exactly do you describe Camp DeSoto to someone who has never experienced it?  I can say that it is a little piece of Heaven, but that does not describe it fully.  I have been reading books on prayer this summer.  And last Sunday, I came upon a passage that Fiona Macleod wrote about a place named Iona.  It is a sacred and holy place.  So, I have stolen the majority of Fiona's words to help paint a picture of what exactly DeSoto has meant to me...

A few places in the world are held to be holy, 

because of the love which consecrates them, 

and the faith which enshrines them.  

One such is DeSoto...  

It is but a small mountaintop, fashioned of wooden cabins, 

a few grasses tread by feet of many, 

a few rocks that bring us together to worship, 

and upon whose woods the birds and crickets never cease to sing their song.

But since the remotest days,

 little girls have bowed here in worship.
The peace of DeSoto whispers to many.

On top of this mountain, a lamp was and is lit whose flame lights the world.  

From age to age, lowly hearts have never ceased to bring their burdens here.  

And here Hope waits.  

To tell the story of DeSoto, 

is to go back to God, 

and to end in God.

This is DeSoto.