Bugs love me. It is an unrequited love. In the forests of North Carolina where I have spent summers since I was seven years old, it was a constant battle not to be consumed by the never ending mass of insects who rated me five-star cuisine. Maybe it was my fair skin, the light hue that drew them like a lantern in the night. Or maybe it was my fresh mint shampoo that made them think I was a part of the nature they so adored. Nevertheless I learned to coexist. It was in those forests I learned to shoot a bow, to build fires that blazed through the night, and fly through the air on a wire I never quite believed would hold. In these forests I discovered that I could be a story, a princess on the run, a knight in disguise traveling over chasms by
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Service, courage, strength, honor, joy, all represented in more than words, in thought and action and practice. Years upon years of continual joy and laughter and struggle. The ecstasy felt at the top of that mountain laughing for all the world to hear, and the compassion built from supporting my sisters who couldn’t quite make the climb. Learning to mentor and lead those younger and more vulnerable. Saving a younger camper’s life as she choked on a seemingly innocent treat. The panic and relief that that situation and many others over the years brought exposed me to the insane vigilance it takes to be a protector. Learning how to ride for the first time a beast so large it could crush me underfoot. Growing and grooming and learning with that same beast until I called it Beauty, and felt the freedom of truly running on its back. All of these experiences, from the heights to the nitty gritty ground, taught me and grew me and let me live. Without them, without those women and girls who poured into me and my life, I would’t be who I am today. A compassionate, adventurous, bubbly little bookworm who can both plan a party and retreat from one. Someone who knows when to be a protector and when to be a friend. Who loves to dress up but can change a tire if need be. This is who Camp Crestridge made
Service, courage, strength, honor, joy, all represented in more than words, in thought and action and practice. Years upon years of continual joy and laughter and struggle. The ecstasy felt at the top of that mountain laughing for all the world to hear, and the compassion built from supporting my sisters who couldn’t quite make the climb. Learning to mentor and lead those younger and more vulnerable. Saving a younger camper’s life as she choked on a seemingly innocent treat. The panic and relief that that situation and many others over the years brought exposed me to the insane vigilance it takes to be a protector. Learning how to ride for the first time a beast so large it could crush me underfoot. Growing and grooming and learning with that same beast until I called it Beauty, and felt the freedom of truly running on its back. All of these experiences, from the heights to the nitty gritty ground, taught me and grew me and let me live. Without them, without those women and girls who poured into me and my life, I would’t be who I am today. A compassionate, adventurous, bubbly little bookworm who can both plan a party and retreat from one. Someone who knows when to be a protector and when to be a friend. Who loves to dress up but can change a tire if need be. This is who Camp Crestridge made