Since 2010, I’ve ended every single day at Camp Chen-A-Wanda the same way, sitting at my desk way after midnight, writing a blog to share with our camp parents that are home. What started as a way to update you on sports scores has turned into something much deeper. Over time, it evolved into a space for reflection, storytelling, and connection. No matter how tired I am, I sit down and write because I need to share the moments of the day that made it remarkable and wanted you at home to feel what is happening at Camp.
There’s always at least one moment that takes my breath away and reminds me why this place is so extraordinary and some days, there are dozens of these treasured moments. While I can’t capture them all in every blog post, I try my best to bring you into our world, to help you feel the joy, the laughter, the growth, and the magic we experience here daily. Truthfully, I’ve never known who actually reads these blogs. I’ve always hoped someone out there did but Visiting Day so many of you came up to me to say, “I read your blog every morning, it’s part of my routine.” And I can’t begin to tell you how much that means to me. To know my words resonate and help you feel connected to your camper’s journey, that means everything.
But these stories I share, they aren’t mine. They’re built from the moments I witness, the conversations I overhear, the emotions that unfold right in front of me. These seven weeks fill my heart in a way that lasts all year long. In a world that can often feel chaotic, confusing and heavy, camp is a reminder that connection, kindness, freedom, and joy still thrive. For seven weeks, the world just makes sense. So I write. And apologies for the typos (usually typed with one eye already closed), but the stories are always clear in my heart and I truly hope they come out the way I intend them to. To share the beauty of what’s happening in here.
Tonight, I’m heading out west with our GC campers and taking this amazing group to LA and beyond for the trip of a lifetime. And for the first time in 15 years for these next seven nights, I won’t be able to blog for you. Leading this trip means stepping away from the keyboard, and being fully present for the kids who’ve been waiting and dreaming about this trip for years and its finally here and this is where my focus needs to be.
So, I hope you’ll understand the pause. I’ll miss writing to you and I hope you’ll miss reading it, too. But when I return to camp, I’ll be back at my desk, still exhausted, still inspired, and ready to share all the stories waiting to be told.
Elissa