I imagine many of you are already counting down the minutes until Sunday morning. For the first time in two weeks, you will hear your son’s voice.
Some boys will come to the phone with a list of stories they’ve been waiting to tell. Others will jump from one thought to another, trying to squeeze two weeks of camp into a short conversation, and some may require more prompting from you.
There may be some tears, but missing home and loving camp are not mutually exclusive. A boy can spend his days laughing with his bunkmates, racing from the fields to the lake, sleeping soundly at night, and feeling completely at home, yet still become emotional the moment he hears a parent’s voice.
I know many of you will listen carefully to every word. You will analyze his tone of voice, the pauses between sentences, and what he says— and perhaps even what he doesn’t say.
Keep in mind that a short phone call is only a glimpse into two full weeks of camp. Your son may not think to tell you about the hundreds of happy moments he has experienced, but he may immediately share the one problem that is on his mind. He may tell you about a disagreement with a bunkmate without mentioning that they were laughing together five minutes later. An emotional moment can quickly take over a short conversation and make it difficult to see the bigger picture.
Your boys are thriving.
Tonight, I had the opportunity to do some listening of my own.
Our youngest boys gathered for their Warrior Campfire. Away from the pace and energy of their daily routine, sitting together beneath the tall Maine pines, they sang camp songs, laughed, and enjoyed an evening around the fire– no TVs, no tablets, pure old-fashioned fun.
For some of these boys, arriving here marked the first time they had ever spent a night away from home. Less than two weeks later, they were sitting shoulder to shoulder with their bunkmates, singing together as if they had been doing it for years.
The full-season summer camp experience asks boys to step away from their most comfortable environment and slowly discover that they are capable of more than they realized. Growth at this age does not always announce itself. Sometimes, it’s a boy carrying his own equipment without being reminded, sometimes it’s asking a counselor for help, sometimes it’s working through a disagreement with a bunkmate, and sometimes it’s simply looking around a campfire, knowing the words to a song, and feeling like you belong.
On Sunday morning, you will finally have the opportunity to hear about camp through your son’s eyes. Enjoy his stories, ask him about his bunkmates, ask him what he has tried for the first time and what has made him laugh.
If there are tears, remember that your son’s counselors will be right there when he hangs up the phone. They’ll be ready to give him a hug, offer some reassurance, and help him return to the friends and routine that have become his life at camp.
Tonight, I heard your boys’ voices. They were singing together, surrounded by their friends and counselors, very much at home at Camp Takajo.
