I never went to summer camp as a kid. In fact, the idea of camp was my nightmare.

Sleeping away from home, strange food, and sweaty kids forced to play sweaty group games? Hard pass.
I was an anxious kid. Rumors of a sleepover would make my skin crawl. I’d fluctuate between making up excuses and trying it — only to call my parents at 2 a.m. for a pickup.

My only camp experience came from TV and movies. I grew up on a steady diet of Salute Your Shorts, Heavyweights and The Parent Trap. Then, at age 23, as a young Air Force wife, I volunteered to be a counselor for a weekend retreat with our church youth group.

It was eye-opening. At one point, I actually shouted, “Twizzlers should not be used as weapons!” I left sleep-deprived, and certain that camp life wasn’t for me.

But life is a funny beast. Fast forward 15 years to last summer. I found myself volunteering at Camp Hope, a ministry of Hope Forest held at Camp Bentley in Drake, North Dakota.

My kids and I went to visit for a day while my husband was away on National Guard duty. What was meant to be a 4-hour volunteer shift turned into a 4-day stay when several staff members came down sick.

That girl who hated camp was suddenly sold on the idea. So much so that this year, I volunteered ahead of time.
This summer, I taught a daily skills class. For 45 minutes each day, I taught 15 campers the art of simple card tricks and doodling easy illusions.

Watching a kid’s face light up after seeing a card trick for the first time was one of my favorite parts of the week. They couldn’t believe they were about to learn how to do it — and then they couldn’t believe how easy it was.
The idea for our class was simple: Give kids everyday materials they can use to connect with others and start conversations long after they leave camp.

I wasn’t sure if kids would love it or hate it. But the idea took off. Every day, kids wanted more. They practiced together, showed off for counselors and even found me during free time for bonus lessons.

In the middle of it all, friendships formed and important conversations happened. That’s more magical than any card trick I can teach.

Something special occurs when our hands are busy, we’re away from screens, and allow ourselves to be present in the “real world”—without distraction. In that space, nearly anything can become a catalyst for connection.

Spending a whole week immersed in “the moment” felt like a luxury of the best kind. I worked hard in the weeks leading up to camp to finish a pile of freelance projects so I could be mostly unplugged for the week.

As for the campers, nobody under 18 has a phone at camp. They turn in their devices when they arrive–even young staff members do the same. Adult staff reduce their phone use to the bare minimum.

It was incredible.

At the beginning of the week, everyone is out of their routine. Kids don’t know the schedule. They don’t know each other yet. Some are nervous about being away from home — or, as a few kids told me, nervous about being bored without their phones.

But by the end of the week, I didn’t hear anyone talking about what they were missing.

I heard them talking about what they were doing.

They played. They ran. They learned. They made friends. They faced boredom and discomfort. And then they discovered what to do with that space.

I left camp sunburned, bug-bitten and exhausted, lamenting that late-night book sessions with my kids and early-morning chapel were coming to an end. I also left thinking about how I can carry the intentionality of camp week into the rest of my year.

We can’t opt out of the digital world. Much of modern life requires a screen, including most of my own work. But we are capable of self-awareness and self-discipline. We can create boundaries that work for us, even if those boundaries look different from someone else’s.

I left reminded that I need better boundaries because life off-screen, in the full color feels utterly amazing. I want my kids to understand this, too, and I want to be better at modeling it for them.

Sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves and our kids is creating opportunities to be fully present.
And sometimes being fully present means putting down the phone, tolerating the discomfort of not knowing what to do with our hands, and seeing what we can create with nothing more than a notebook or a deck of cards.

Come back next week when I talk about creating boundaries for our health and wellness with Cornerstone Chiropractic. For more stories of life in North Dakota, or to connect with me, head to amyallender.com or find @heyminot on social media.