I was constantly reminded of God at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho.
I was reminded of God’s inclusion at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho. Inclusion and acceptance are always floating in the air, in the voices, in the practices at Wakon'Da-Ho. A beautiful practice I was introduced to there was Secret Prayer Partners. The whole week, I had a secret person whom I wrote prayers for, kept in my thoughts, and overall watched for God’s presence in. My person was not someone who I really would have interacted with much at camp if she was not my secret prayer partner. We weren’t on the same volleyball team, didn’t do the same interest groups, didn’t sit near each other at meals often. I wouldn’t have felt like a part of this person’s week if she wasn’t my secret prayer partner. But since I was always praying for her, watching the ways God worked in and through her, Cora became an integral part of my week. I listened for her voice singing at vespers, saw the ways she engaged with the keynote, watched her hype up her teammates on her volleyball team. And through praying for Cora, seeing God in Cora, I in turn felt like a bigger and more integral part of the Wakon'Da-Ho community. By praying for someone else, making them feel seen and known, I too felt seen and known. I too felt included into the camp community in a much deeper way. And in reading the ways my own secret prayer partner was praying for me, seeing me, knowing me, I felt connected to God and each camper in a way I never would have otherwise. Knowing that someone was keeping my struggles, my joys, my experience in their prayers and their heart made me feel deeply included, an inseparable part of the Wakon'Da-Ho chain. That spirit of communal prayer, of communal care, was alive and well the entire week I was at camp. On the final night, during the closing vespers, we each got to name our secret prayer partner and serve them communion. It is the only time during the week that we get to take communion together as a camp. In that moment, at communion, it truly felt like I was a part of the body of Christ in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. Coming together to the table – a deep symbol of inclusion for our tradition – being served by Lauren, the one who had prayed for me all week, then serving Cora, the one who I had prayed for all week, brought to life for me the fact that we all are one bread, one body. I was a necessary part of that camp at that moment, an integral element in the flow of God’s spirit between and amongst the camp community. I was reminded of God’s inclusion at that table.
I was reminded of God’s joy at camp WaKonDo’Ho. There is a light, a laughter there that is always moving, always heard. It’s hard to describe. God’s light shone through the voices singing “Light The Fire” at the end of the campfire each night. The spirit moved in the dance moves of the campers and fellow counselors who I had an impromptu dance party with the night of the all-camp cookout. I could hear God’s voice in the shouts of encouragement and excitement during the camp-wide volleyball tournament (which my team placed second in thank you very much!). God’s joy arose in me as I laughed harder than I had all week during the variety show, watching interpretive dances and poetic imitations. God’s humorous, joyful, bright presence was undeniable during my week at camp. I was reminded of God’s joy at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho.
I was reminded of God’s vision for justice at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho. I had the esteemed privilege of sharing my LGBTQIA+ inclusion workshop with each small group at camp that week. The ways every youth and adult engaged with the content, showed such clear desires to learn and broaden their perspectives, showed me how our earth, our communities, our lives, are bending closer to the justice that God’s kindom envisions. People came up to me letting me know that my words, my story, the narrative of inclusion that is woven through creation, the Bible, and our faith that I shared about, gave them a new perspective. The workshop made people feel seen, known, and loved exactly as they are. The workshop challenged people to see ways their faith can be a vehicle for inclusion and a voice of acceptance. The workshop made youth feel like they are created in God’s image because of their queerness, not in spite of it, for perhaps the first time. Youth asked brave questions about what it means to be gender queer, showing a deep desire to understand and love their neighbors better. Youth shared vulnerable stories about ways they have felt excluded from God’s loving arms, after which I went on to show them how they are unquestionably a part of God’s beautiful and inclusive family. Youth showed their excitement to share this story, this message of inclusion, with their family and friends back home. Youth shared their hope to have hard conversations with family members or community members who need to hear about a Christian lens towards inclusion, having a Bible story as an access point to meet people where they are. Youth shared their gratitude for being affirmed so clearly in the context of camp, where they feel safe to be their whole selves. These conversations, stories, and reactions showed me so much about the justice God works for. Giving people a new perspective, the right point of entry to have hard conversations, a new look at a Bible story that makes them feel seen and known, can create a sense of empowerment and confidence that spurs change, uplifts justice, that extends past the walls of camp. I was reminded of God’s vision of justice at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho.
I was reminded of God’s call at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho. During the closing vespers, there was a moment when campers who felt a call to ministry, no matter what shape or form, no matter how big or small, were invited to come forward. I could feel the air in the vespers space change at that moment. It was as if everything around me was heightened, as if somehow everything that week was leading up to this moment. I felt my own focus shift, becoming more aware. I could really and honestly feel God in that moment, undoubtedly. Slowly but surely, campers started standing up and coming to the front. I saw campers walk by me who had made me feel so holistically welcomed and seen that week. I saw campers walk by me who had been voices of inclusion and love time after time during the week. I saw campers walk by me who embodied the spirit of the table through their friendships and camp connections. I saw campers walk by me who I had seen a call in but didn’t realize had seen a call in themselves. I saw campers accept a call to ministry that I had seen in and through them the whole week. I was brought to tears at the beauty and vulnerability of that moment. I was brought to tears by the way God showed up in those campers, the way God showed up in that space. It’s not often that you get to witness people you have seen God moving in then see and realize that same God in themselves. It’s not often that you get to see and affirm the ways God is calling on those around you. Camp Wakon'Da-Ho fostered the loving and transformative spirit of God’s call during that final vespers service. I also was able to better hear, to better understand, to better acknowledge the ways God calls me while at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho. I have been wrestling and deconstructing my own call to ministry for a long time. In the moments where I felt included and created spaces of inclusion, where I felt loved and created experiences of love for those around me, where I created justice and was inspired by the ways those around me yearned and fought for that same vision of justice, where I felt joy and allowed others to express their joy freely and unapologetically, I felt God’s call to me become louder, clearer. I felt more at home and confident in my call to ministry while living on the holy ground at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho. I was reminded of God’s call at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho.
I was reminded of God’s love at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho. Words of affirmation flow down like a river in that sacred place. The last night, the camp does something called a hug zipper. Every camper and counselor go down the line and gives everyone else a hug and word of affirmation. I felt so seen, so loved, being a link in the hug zipper. Having campers I hadn’t seen much of that week tell me how I impacted their week, how they saw God in me was so beautiful. A moment with a camper in that hug zipper made me feel so deeply known. Her group was leading our final night vespers service, so she had to exit the hug zipper early. Despite that, she made sure she came down to the end of the hug zipper, where I was standing, so that she could have a moment with me. She shared how my workshop and my presence at camp made her feel accepted exactly as she was. She told me that I showed her that she is fully deserving of God’s love, that she is undoubtedly a quintessential part of God’s beautiful and wonderful creation because of who she is. She shared that my presence, my words, my spirit made her belong. I was able to share with her that she had made me feel so welcomed that week, that her presence and attention towards me truly made me feel a part of the camp community. There were moments during my week at camp Wakon'Da-Ho where I felt like an outsider, where I was unsure of my place. But time and time again, this camper would come up to me and invite me into conversations, share words of affirmation with me, let me know that I wasn’t alone. She made intentional efforts to make me feel like an essential part of the camp community, and I expressed my gratitude for her presence in that moment. I felt so deeply loved in that moment in the hug zipper and was reminded of God’s endless and relentless love through her presence. Moments like that define Camp Wakon'Da-Ho. God’s love is brought to life in that space, in that community, in those people, in such a unique and beautiful way. Love is originated, curated, and intentionally spread so that every member of the camp community, no matter how new they are, how alone they feel, how different they perceive themselves to be, is encircled in a hug zipper of God’s love. I was reminded of God’s love at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho.
There was rarely a moment when I was not in God’s presence, walking in the light of God, at Camp Wakon'Da-Ho.
Thank you God for that camp, those people.