Fellowship in the Forest

They came.  They saw.  They conquered.

They also danced, fished, ate, laughed, jumped, ran, sang, drew, swam, paddled, hopped, batted, swung, putted, dived, shot, cooked, roasted, braided, modeled, acted, passed, dunked, rapped and, most importantly, soared. For seven straight days, from sunrise (and before) to the end of the day, 150 Dragonfly Kids did all this and more-transforming Camp Green Lane not only into Dragonfly Forest, but into a space and time where everything seemed possible, and it was all good.

If you were to ask 20 different campers, staff or volunteers what the highlight of the week was, you'd probably get 20 different answers - because there were so many opportunities to have fun, to do something new, to feel special, and to create long-lasting memories.

There were a lot of moments I will never forget. But even more important, at the end of the week, because of these moments (and hundreds more in between them), there are three things that I know better about myself, about children and about what I think Dragonfly really means.

Number 1: It's not about me. It's also not about my pillow, my goals, my time off from work, my lunch, my talents, or what I think should happen next. It's not even about me wanting to help, to do something good. This took some time to figure out, but when I did, I understood it as a unique gift that Dragonfly offers every volunteer: the opportunity to remove yourself from the center of the universe. When you do this, and the shock wears off, amazing things happen. You see and feel and understand things in ways you never have before. And that's awesome.

So, a belated thanks to Dragonfly Chairman Laura Jansen, for calling up an old friend. She thought she was asking me for a favor, but she was really preparing a present.

Number 2: Children know the difference between the talk and the walk. W.C. Fields supposedly coined the adage, "Never work with children or animals," and there were times at Dragonfly when that sure seemed like good advice. Children can be judgmental, sometimes painfully so, and they have a very low tolerance for anything that they think is insincere or contrived, especially from adults.

I've worked with children for about 10 years, coaching soccer teams and directing youth choruses, but I learned more about "keeping it real" in one week at Dragonfly than in all the combined seasons and concerts of the last decade. It was hard sometimes-the campers I worked with, especially the older ones, were looking to see if you really had "skin in the game." But if you took the risk, and gave full-out honesty and engagement, the payoff was intense. Mutual trust and appreciation. Respect. Shared goals and shared fun. And, most of all, a profound sense of connectedness.

Number 3: Opportunity is everything. Every day, in countless ways, I saw the opportunities that Dragonfly was making possible. Some, especially the physical and athletic ones, were obvious: leaping from a high ropes platform or holding a snake in your hand is not something you do every day. But I kept noticing the less visible and the more-nuanced ones-those that involved introspective hopes and risks, and those that involved choices in the context of the Dragonfly community or relationships between the campers and the volunteers, or campers' hopes for the future. As hard as it is to pinpoint these opportunities, I have absolutely no doubt that they were pervasive, and that they were important.

It seems clear to me that by any measure-from activities to campers to programs to participants-Dragonfly Forest was a huge success. But to truly measure the impact and importance of Dragonfly's first experience of camp at home, you'd have to come up with a whole new set of tools and devices-ones that could somehow calculate what it means to try something new and exciting, or to feel just like a regular camper doing all the things regular campers do, or to be in a place that facilitated a unique sense of belonging, an opportunity for personal awareness and growth, and a powerful sense of connectedness, bonding and freedom. To put it another way: how do you measure a hug, a smile, or a new perspective on yourself or your potential?

At Dragonfly Forest, a sense of wonder and potential was as pervasive and real as the late-night chirping of crickets or the cool morning dew. If you were there, you couldn't help but sense it. You couldn't help but see it everywhere you looked. And you couldn't help but be incredibly thankful for everyone who had helped make it possible.