I woke up early last Sunday morning, enjoying the cooler weather with the windows open. It made me think of classic Door County weather: lower humidity with temps ranging from the mid-50s to mid-70s. Just 72 hours earlier, we were camping in Door County, and the weather wasn’t nearly as pleasant. In fact, it was much smokier up there than it is down here. That’s when this blog came to mind even before dawn.
I started thinking about how the past two summers of camping with my family have felt… different. Not just because the girls are getting older or the campsites are booked faster, but because the outdoors we’ve always loved has started to feel a little less hospitable.
This summer, we camped in Minnesota and Wisconsin. Last summer, we planned to camp in the national parks of Colorado, but unusual heat and wildfires forced us to change plans—twice. Both summers were marked by extreme heat and humidity. I found myself repeatedly thankful for the small rooftop air conditioner on our aging pop-up camper. When we first bought it in 2016, the A/C felt like a luxury, maybe even unnecessary. Back then, we’d only run it as white noise when a nearby site got a little too rowdy after bedtime. These days, the A/C has become essential.
I remember back in 2016, not long after we started camping regularly as a family, Meghan and I heard an interview with the then-director of the National Park Service. He shared his worry about the impact of climate change on our national parks. “What happens,” he asked, “when there are no more glaciers in Glacier National Park? What do we call it then?” Or what becomes of Joshua Tree National Park when it can no longer support Joshua Trees?
That conversation stuck with us. We decided then that we wanted our girls to experience these places while they still could. Maybe it was a little dramatic at the time, but we wanted our girls to be able to tell their grandchildren that they saw a Joshua Tree, and Glacier, and the many other natural wonders of creation. In 2019, we saw the Joshua Trees. In 2021, we made it to Glacier. But instead of cool mountain air, we stepped into record-breaking 100-degree heat. The park was stunning, but so was the warning.
I know it’s tempting to chalk it all up to a few hot summers or brush it off as part of a natural cycle. But I think the truth is harder. We are living through a time of ecological crisis. The blue skies I love to camp under are more often clouded by smoke. The cool nights we count on are being replaced by sticky, sleepless heat. The great outdoors isn’t what it used to be.
And I can’t help but think about our role as people of faith in all of this.
Genesis tells us that God called creation “good.” Not just the people—everything. The trees, the waters, the skies, the creatures, the soil beneath our feet. And we were given the task of caretaking. Not dominating. Not exploiting. Caring.
When I look at the state of the world today, I wonder: how are we doing with that calling?
Here at the United Methodist Church of Geneva, I’m so grateful for the growing efforts we’ve made to honor creation. From energy-saving improvements in our building to the faithful work of our Creation Care team, we are moving in the right direction. But this is more than a building project. It’s a heart project.
We don’t just need the climate to change. We need people to change.
I need to change.
We all do.
The good news is that we can. We are not powerless. Small acts: recycling, reducing consumption, supporting climate-friendly policies, investing in renewable energy, planting trees, advocating for change, it all matters. Every step adds up. And more than anything, these actions testify to our belief that this world still belongs to God and that our hands were made to help care for it.
As I sit with these memories from our summer travels, both the beautiful ones and the hard ones, I find myself holding a prayer for our kids, and their kids, and the generations I won’t meet. I pray they’ll still get to wonder at a glacier, or smell pine in a pristine forest, or watch a sunset that isn’t filtered through smoke.
I pray that they’ll know the outdoors as something great, not something dangerous.
And I pray that we’ll do our part as disciples of the One who created it all and called it good.
