Written by Traci Marriott
Do the things that only camp can do.
Let them hike far enough that they feel like they’re really exploring; teach them how to follow trails and let them be gone just long enough that they start to wonder if they’re lost.
Let them squint and stare at the rocks until they imagine they can see a dog and a whale and a mummy and the baby Jesus; let them squeeze through narrow places and get a little dirty.
Teach them crafts that let the artists unleash their creativity; let the kids who always say they’re no good at art make something with their hands while they learn the value of spending an hour talking to their friends about everything and nothing.
Let them cook their supper over a fire and fall asleep in the field looking up at the stars and wake up in the morning covered in dew.
Plan their day so they can rely on the rhythm of the schedule, be surprised by something special, and learn to let go of worrying about what’s next.
Let them play games that don’t require them to be terrific athletes; show them silly motions and let them dance with abandon before the world makes them bashful.
Let them worship where they can be mesmerized by the fire or look out over the hills or hear water running in the stream; let them feel the pulse of creation in the stillness and hear the deafening chorus of the woods in the silence.
Teach them all the songs until they sing the gospel back to you.
Do the things only camp can do.