Day 4: When We Make Room for One Another!

For the second summer in a row, STEAM in the PARK has shared the beautiful NatureBridge campus at Olympic National Park with students from The Woods Project in Houston, Texas. Founded more than 20 years ago, The Woods Project helps young people discover confidence, leadership, and a sense of possibility through outdoor experiences, many of which introduce them to places and opportunities they have never experienced before. While our groups come to Lake Crescent for different reasons, sharing this special place has become one of our favorite new traditions. We spend our days following different schedules, yet somehow, before the week is over, we always find ourselves sharing something far more meaningful than a campus.

Truthfully, today's story began last night.

After our campfire, someone turned on music. Our campers began dancing, and before long a few of the Woods Project students wandered over, smiling from a distance. Someone invited them to join us. At first they stepped in a little shyly, but it didn't take long before the Cupid Shuffle erased every invisible line between our two groups. There was cheering, laughter, and the kind of joy that reminds you we're often just one invitation away from belonging.

When the music ended, many of the Woods Project students stayed around the campfire. Several of them experienced their very first s'mores, and our campers happily taught them the fine art of roasting the perfect marshmallow. They lingered around the fire, talking and laughing together long after the music had stopped. No one planned it. No one put it on the schedule. It simply happened because people made room for one another.

As one of our campers walked back toward the cabins later that evening, they heard voices call out across campus, "We are family now!" Four simple words. No program. No lesson. No adult prompting. Just young people recognizing something beautiful had happened.

Those words stayed with me all night, and somehow they shaped the way I experienced today. They reminded me that gratitude often begins the moment we stop asking what we're going to receive and start noticing what we've already been given.

This morning began with a beautiful lesson about Salish canoes. We learned that these remarkable cedar canoes were far more than transportation. They carried families, traditions, stories, and entire communities. Every person had a role. Every paddle mattered. No one crossed the water alone. I couldn't help but smile as I listened because the lesson sounded remarkably familiar. Maybe that's exactly what we had witnessed around the campfire the night before.

The rest of our day unfolded with free time along the crystal waters of Lake Crescent, opportunities to simply breathe and enjoy this incredible place, our afternoon film, meaningful lessons, and preparations for one of my favorite STEAM in the PARK traditions—the Firefly Ceremony. It was a wonderful day, but beneath every activity ran a quiet current of gratitude. Gratitude for Olympic. Gratitude for this community. Gratitude that kindness still has a way of bringing people together without anyone having to force it.

Of course, we'll laugh for years about the little mice that graced a few cabins with their cute faces. We'll remember the runaway shower hose that had a mind of its own. Someone will certainly tell the story of the paper towels in the toilets. We'll smile about the hilarious dancing, the songs, and all the little moments that stitched this week together.

But when I think about this week, those aren't the moments that rise to the top. What I'll remember are the hearts of these thirty-four STEAM in the PARK campers. They welcomed without hesitation. They noticed people standing nearby and quietly invited them into the circle. They celebrated people they had just met. They made room without expecting anything in return. In a world that so often encourages us to stay comfortable with the people we already know, these educators instinctively widened the circle.

I've been thinking all day that maybe generosity of spirit isn't found in grand gestures after all. Maybe it's found in a simple invitation to dance. Maybe it's found in offering someone a place around the campfire. Maybe it's found in showing someone how to make their very first s'more. Maybe it's found in seeing a stranger and deciding they're welcome here, too.

Steve and I came to Olympic hoping to help educators discover the wonder of this extraordinary national park. Instead, they reminded us of something even more extraordinary. When we make room for one another, gratitude grows. Communities grow. Hearts grow. And perhaps that's what the Salish people understood all along. A canoe only moves forward when everyone paddles together. This week, around a campfire on the shores of Lake Crescent, a group of educators from across the country and a group of students from Houston reminded us that the same is true for people. We move farther, love better, and experience more joy when we make room for one another.