2018 is almost behind us. There is always so much to celebrate at the end of a year. This year at camp saw a new zip line, new programs for refugees and immigrants, more kids, more schools, and more impact. As the years have gone by though I find myself feeling the goals that weren’t accomplished more readily than the ones that we accomplished. I’ve always struggled with New Year’s Resolutions. For me they have always seemed a little like a failure waiting to happen. I’m not good at failure. I don’t like experiencing it and I certainly hate having others watch me experience it. I do think I am good at seeking growth opportunities, and this is one. So Alumni of Camp Kitaki - I have failed you.
A few years back we rebooted our Embers newsletter and promised quarterly updates. We were hitting that target for a bit, but have missed it more recently. For that I am deeply sorry. Since I am generally a positive person, I wanted to focus not on the failure, but on what opportunities we have moving forward. You see I don’t feel this particular failure because you didn’t get an email in your inbox. I feel it because I left you out of the story. More and more as I think about camp I see it as the collective story of all those who have participated in it. It is a complex narrative tapestry. One where the tiniest of silver threads woven in a corner reveal their impact only in certain lights. And where thick lines of like texture that dive in and out in paths easily discernible at a quick glance. It’s easy to get caught up by the narrative that is currently being woven, the strands of story not yet complete that intersect and create something immediate and new. But those stories did not spring together out of nowhere. They were supported and began through patterns started by those whose stories may never directly cross the immediate, but whose hue and texture set the loom for those who follow.
It’s a cast of characters, some seemingly central to the story before plot changes bring the focus to other threads. Some seemingly only in supporting roles until they appear at the right moment, to change the fabric forever.
You see, why I have failed is not in getting you an email. It’s in making sure that you know you are an important part of the story of camp, and that you always will be. The stories you wrote at camp will always be a part of the epic poem of Kitaki. I would love to promise you that I will do a better job consistently of being in touch, but I don’t feel I should make that guarantee. I will promise you that I will always be thankful for your parts of this story, and that when I can, I will do my best to shed light onto your part of the tapestry and invite your thread back into the stories not yet woven.
Hope to see you at Staff Night Out on the 26th.
Jason