​Day 4: Maybe We Really Are Fireflies

I am sitting here at the end of Day 4 wondering how in the world we are already here. I know I say this every summer, but some weeks just move differently. You wait for them. You plan for them. You make lists and schedules and graphics and change the schedule twelve more times. Then the campers arrive and suddenly you blink and tomorrow is already goodbye.

Today started with our annual Prairie Dog Challenge. If you have never watched a group of educators fully commit to becoming prairie dogs, I am not sure I can explain the joy you are missing. We practiced Leave No Trace, became Burrow Builders, and performed some pretty impressive Sentry Skits. There was a lot of laughter and a lot of learning, which is exactly the way I think learning should sometimes feel. 

We watched Bryce Canyon's park film, A Song of Seasons, and I loved the reminder that Bryce is never really standing still. Snow comes, water freezes, rock cracks, summer brings life, and fall begins another transition. The hoodoos we are staring at today are still being shaped one freeze and thaw at a time. Maybe that's true for people, too. Maybe we are all being shaped by our seasons in ways we don't always recognize while they are happening.

Then we gave everyone free time. Real free time, and our campers used every single minute of it. Some took on hard hikes and did things they weren't quite sure they could do. Some went ATVing. Some headed back to waterfalls and frolicked in the water. Some explored overlooks, and some continued what has now become a very serious STEAM in the PARK commitment to the ice cream shop across the street. I think we can officially say we have been their best customers this season. You're welcome!

Tonight was one of those nights I wish I could bottle up. We climbed aboard horse-drawn wagons and headed toward the rim for dinner. We were greeted with blue skies, cool breezes, and the kind of weather that makes you look around and realize just how lucky you have been.

Actually, the weather has been unbelievable all week. Blue skies, no rain, cool breezes, and no fire at our camp. This is the FIRST STEAM in the PARK camp where we haven't had rain during the week. Ever. I almost don't want to type that sentence until everyone has officially left Utah because I know how our luck usually works.

But tonight I also find myself wishing those skies would open up and send some of that rain to Utah. This state has been inundated with fires, and they need the rain badly. We have been incredibly grateful for every blue sky and every cool breeze we have been given this week, but we also know there are people, communities, firefighters, wildlife, and wild places desperately needing water. So, for maybe the first time at a STEAM in the PARK camp, we are actually asking for rain. Just maybe after our campers are safely headed home tomorrow.

We arrived at dinner and ate steak, chicken, portobello mushrooms, and all the sides while surrounded by this beautiful place and these beautiful people. I just kept looking around at our campers, this week, and this park. Sometimes you know you are standing in a memory while it is still happening, and tonight felt like one of those times.

After dinner, we shared one of our most special STEAM in the PARK traditions with our newest firefly family. I won't share every part of our Firefly Ceremony because I think some things are meant to belong to the people sitting in the circle, but I did tell them a little about how fireflies became part of our story.

It started with a camper sharing a blog post, then I stumbled onto a podcast about fireflies that brought back memories of camping in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Facebook somehow connected me with a firefly photographer and his beautiful work, and then fireflies just kept showing up in our parks. A blog, a podcast, an old memory, a new connection, and tiny lights appearing again and again.

I could call all of that coincidence, but I don't. I call it divine intervention because somewhere along the way I started understanding what those tiny lights had been trying to teach me. One firefly doesn't light an entire forest. It simply glows where it is, and somewhere nearby another light answers. I see you. I'm here.

Maybe that is why fireflies feel so much like STEAM in the PARK to me. People arrive from all over the country carrying different stories. Some are glowing brightly, some are tired, and some aren't quite sure where they fit yet. Then someone sits beside them, someone makes them laugh, someone notices them, or someone quietly says, “Me too.” One light finds another, and tonight another group became part of that story.

That's about all I'm going to share about our Firefly Ceremony because I really believe you just have to be there. There are moments and traditions that don't need to be completely explained or photographed or shared. Sometimes they just need to belong to the people who gathered there.

We ended our night at a Star Party with Bryce Canyon rangers, which was another FIRST for us. Every other time we have tried to attend, the weather has had other plans, but this week Bryce gave us the sky. After spending part of our evening thinking about tiny lights in the darkness, we stood beneath one of the darkest skies many of us have ever experienced and looked up at stars. You really can't plan moments like that.

I am tired tonight, the kind of tired that comes from days that start early and end late, from answering a thousand questions, changing plans, watching people, and trying to make sure everyone is okay. But I am also sitting here thinking this has been one of the best weeks of our summer. The weather has been beautiful, Bryce Canyon has shown off in every possible way, and these campers have loved each other so well.

We have watched people try hard things and hike farther than they thought they could. We have watched campers sit beside someone new, laugh until they cried, encourage each other, and make room in their circles. Somewhere in the middle of all of that, lights found each other, and another group of strangers started feeling a whole lot more like family.

Tomorrow is our last day, and I don't really like typing that because this week has been really, really good. We have had the weather, the beauty, the laughter, loving campers, hard things, new friendships, and so many moments I know we will be talking about long after we leave Utah.

Bryce Canyon, you have shown off this week, and this little group of fireflies has glowed pretty brightly, too. Now we are asking the skies to do something we almost never ask for at camp. Send Utah the rain it needs, cover these beautiful places with a little relief, and let us carry all of this light home.