The Camp Container
Hospitality creates new worlds
As I’m coming to you on Cyber Monday, let me offer this: give a kid in your life the gift of summer camp.
Some places invite us to discover who we really are. When they do so with hospitality, they help us see our true belovedness. For me, summer camp was one of those places.
To reach Camp Cross, you have to take a boat across Lake Coeur d’Alene. That moment, the family waving from shore and the camp waiting across the water, forms a threshold, just as Priya Parker describes in The Art of Gathering: the space where we leave one world and step into another.
My first time on the boat to Camp Cross after my family faded from view, we came around to the camp dock and were greeted by staff and counselors who expected us and rejoiced in our arrival. To be received as expected, waited for, longed for, as though they knew how special I already was - that was deeper than just “welcome to camp.” They established a new world, a world that waited for me.
In spiritual practice and hospitality, we often talk about creating a container, a space held by trust and care where growth and transformation can happen.
Within the camp container, counselors and staff modeled courageous hospitality, showing a deep openness to the campers, which allows them to be open to one another. Camp becomes a space in which belovedness is assumed, care is the norm, and compassion is foundational.
At Camp Cross, silliness was sacred. Humor broke down barriers and made belonging possible. Whether we were singing loudly off-key or performing in the all-participation talent show, that shared goofiness created a space where fear loosened its grip and belovedness could take root.
It’s so special, it will never be like that particular week again.
This was not always easy, but the camp container was a safe place to make mistakes, and I did. Hurt friend’s feelings, tested ways of fitting in, tried on different ways of being me. Ultimately, I would bump up against the truth of who I was, and humbly apologize to my friends and myself, growing into my belovedness without fear. I learned to be honest and open, vulnerable about my inner-life, and share deeply with people I only saw for 7 days a year.
Any kid is terrified of fitting in, or afraid of not belonging. Camp strives to embrace each camper, not just by the kindness of the staff and counselors, but by the culture of hospitality that facilitates fearlessness.
At Camp Cross we had a full participation talent show, which relies less on talent and more on community. The silliness factor was through the roof! Counselors and staff persuading campers to try something on a stage, when normally our fear and self-consciousness would have been overwhelming.
That first summer I had the best counselor, Jon was always encouraging, patient, and very, very silly. I volunteered to perform as our small group’s dance participant. When my counselor Jon told me, ‘I believe in you,’ something in me rose to meet his confidence. That’s the power of mutual hospitality: his trust helped me trust myself.
My love for dance flowed, and smiled through it - in large part because hardly a minute in, people were cheering and clapping, Jon proudly shouted “That’s my camper!” and our whole small group stood up to cheer me on.
Hospitality and encouragement are very near. They help us uncover confidence in circumstances when we may not be sure. Encouragement helps us perform in the face of fear, but mutual hospitality invites fearlessness.
Courageous hospitality, like that practiced at Camp Cross, creates a world where belonging is assumed and fear gives way to love. Once we’ve experienced that, we carry it with us wherever we go. Like light that lingers after the campfire burns low, it reminds us that we are always awaited, already beloved.
