My week at Peace Village Kids Camp in Ruidoso, New Mexico felt like something of a miracle. Rui
doso was affected by wildfires just one month before camp. There was uncertainty among the camp directors about whether kids would be able to come and whether they were emotionally ready. The eventual decision they made was to do camp despite the hardships families in Ruidoso had experienced since the fires and flooding that came afterwards. It turned out to be just what the kids needed, and just what I needed too. The week was healing for all of us and I was able to witness the wonders of the sacred space Peace Village created for its young people.
I received home hospitality from Rev. Tanya J. Tyler during my time in Ruidoso. Peace Village was a day camp, unlike the other camps I was sent to this summer, and it was wonderful to have a kind person to stay with. Tanya was a delight to talk to and I got to have many relaxing afternoons and evenings with her after camp. A couple times during the week, we took a walk with her dog Winston in Tanya’s neighborhood. We talked about life and ministry, as well as all of the recent disasters that had occurred in Ruidoso. She also took me out to dinner a few times and cooked for me, and I appreciated the quality time we got to spend over meals. I admired Tanya’s resilience and optimism in the wake of such stressful situations. Another miracle: no one in her church was seriously affected by the fires and all of their houses remained intact. I had a wonderful time with Tanya and I’m so grateful that she welcomed me into her home.
Rev. Tanya and Ella
Peace Village Kids Camp took place at High Mesa Healing Center, where several retreats and events have taken place with the goal of resting and healing. Barbara Mader is the amazing woman who founded High Mesa Healing Center even before Peace Village Camp became a tradition. I had the honor of speaking to her quite a few times about her vision for the healing center, about the creation of a sacred space that people continue to return to. The work that Barbara has done as a healer and mentor is incredible, and she had a warm and inviting presence that made her such a joy to talk to. And so much of her love was for the children who came to camp each year. She assured me and every other adult and teen leader that we were doing important work just by being there for each child throughout the week.
Arriving at camp each day settled my spirit, no matter how I was feeling before I got there. The trees of the desert look wildly different from the trees I have back home in Oregon, so I was constantly filled with wonder as I looked up at the trees overlooking the retreat center. There was a yurt where we did indoor activities with the kids and a pavilion where we did outdoor activities with them. My favorite part of the grounds was the labyrinth. It was formed out of dirt and what was probably hundreds of rocks, with grasses growing between and around the rocks without covering the spiral they were a part of. Some of these rocks had been painted by campers in previous years. They were brightly colored and featured words like “peace”, “love”, and “joy”. Before camp programming even started, the kids who arrived early would walk the labyrinth–sometimes together, sometimes by themselves. I loved watching them traipse around it, completing the journey all the way to the center and all the way out again. They hardly ever cut to the lines of the labyrinth and kept their eyes fixed on the ground, making sure they were headed in the right direction. Watching them meditate in this way, even if they thought of it more like play than meditation, warmed my heart. Peace Village Camp didn’t speak directly about God in its programming, as several kids attending didn’t attend church, but the Spirit was moving through the ways the kids showed up for each other each day and interacted with the space around them.
The labyrinth.
One of the peace rocks from the labyrinth.
My primary role during the week was to help with music, and it was one I was beyond happy to fill. The camp’s usual music director, Lou Ann Ellison, had to be absent for the first two days, so a woman named Myranda and I took on the task of learning some of the original songs she had written and teaching them to the kids, so that they would be able to perform these songs to their parents at the week’s end. The kids were in three different age groups that rotated over the course of every day, and each group spent about two time slots a day with Myranda and I. This became a great way to get to know them and their unique ways of playing and being present with one another. The smallest children were deeply expressive and loved moving their bodies to the beat of a drum or to the strum of my guitar. The children in the middle group were full of creativity and helped to create much of the choreography involved for some of the songs. The oldest group–made up of individuals about to be teenagers or already teenagers–took the lead on many things and acted as leaders to the younger children when groups were combined. I looked forward to seeing every smiling face from every group whenever they came up to the pavilion to work on music. The songs and dances we helped the kids create weren’t about being perfect or completely in key; above all, they were about unity and presence with each other. The first lyrics of one of the songs Lou Ann wrote perfectly encapsulated the message the camp was trying to teach all week:
We may look different on the outside
But we’re the same on the inside
Different people with the same dreams
Of peace!
It was awe-inspiring to watch kids as young as age 5 and as old as age 13 sing this song and dance in a circle. When they sang “We may look different on the outside” they all stepped back in rhythm with the drum, spreading their arms out. When they sang “But we’re the same on the inside” they stepped inward, this time extending their hands out into the center of the circle. Whenever these lines reappeared in the song, the motion of expanding and contracting of the circle would commence. It reminded me of the way lungs move in and out, in an act of constant breathing that can easily be taken for granted. The children moved as one lung, one entity, all working towards a common goal in their collective motion.
How beautiful this notion is: that we are all the same at our core, despite our outward differences. And how beautiful it was to listen to kids sing about this for an entire week and to join in. It filled me with hope, something that I was struggling to find this particular week. Time and time again, I find myself feeling hopeless about the state of the world. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard it preached that we must set aside our differences and become one, while at the same time witnessing the mistreatment of the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized. I also can’t tell you how many times I have been complicit in that mistreatment and turned away from its reality because it scared me to do anything else. But the song and the children’s passion in singing it reminded me that even in a world with so much imperfection, it is crucial to strive for change. There is immense power found in community. This power doesn’t require us to set aside our differences–it instead encourages us to acknowledge them, celebrate them, and then use our different gifts and lived experiences to achieve our goals. And the common goal of peace is a profound one. Even more profound is the way children have the capacity to believe steadfastly in peace, in treating others with unconditional and radical love. I’ve heard many adults struggle to define what peace means to them (myself included!), but to look at it through the eyes of a child is a perspective like no other. When asked what peace meant to them, the children had an abundance of answers: Love. Fairness. Kindness. The end of war. Making sure everyone has the chance to speak up. My greatest wish for them is that they carry these answers with them to every space they enter after camp, in their communities in Ruidoso and beyond. I have no doubt that they will bring peace wherever they go.
Dancing and playing with some of the younger campers.
It was also amazing to meet Lou Ann when she was able to join us midway through the week to see what the kids had been working on. She took the lead with the music and dancing, helping all three groups work towards the final performance for their parents on Friday. I could tell how vital she was to this camp, this year and in years past, and how much everyone loved her. Using music as a tool, she created a space where talking about peace was simple and freeing. The kids were lucky to have her. Every kid should get to experience a love like Lou Ann’s.
Lou Ann and Ella
Another thing I was asked to lead at Peace Village was Rites of Passage, an evening program that happened after day camp on Thursday that only 12 and 13 year old campers and teen counselors ages 14-18 participated in. Rites of Passage is about stepping from childhood into teenhoood and then eventually into adulthood, and the activities created for it each year are designed to help participants meditate on the transitions they will experience in life and the transitions they may be experiencing right now. I was asked to bring a few activities to do with the campers and teen counselors. I was honored to spend a few hours of my evening with a group of about nine young people. We started by singing songs together and walking through the labyrinth, meditating on things we wanted to leave behind as a part of stepping into new chapters of life. I decided to close with an activity from a curriculum my fellow Peace Interns and I learned about during our Training Week. The curriculum is called “Singing to the Lions” and it’s filled with activities that help young people think about their fears and struggles while also focusing on what makes them feel safe and loved. I led this particular group through an activity called “The Tree of Life”, an artistic activity that allowed them to reflect on their past, present and future and how their lives and identities might change. I drew my own tree along with them and watched them talk and joke with each other as they processed things that happened to them as they were growing up, both good and bad.
A couple of the teen counselors pulled me aside before we left. They wanted me to privately read what they’d written. Adolescence is a tumultuous time of life; it sometimes feels like there’s a storm raging inside you with no clear end to the chaos in sight. Upon reading some of the things campers wrote on and around their tree about their lives, I recognized this feeling in them. I remember what it felt like to be 14, 15, 16, 17…the desire for inner peace was always strong for me during those years. I may never come across these youth again, but I hope they know that they are loved and that they will find peace within themselves. It is a long journey, and it is not always a linear one, but there are countless people in their communities and elsewhere who will help them face it. I am so proud of the youth who participated in Rites of Passage that evening and opened themselves up to exploring their origins and identities. I watched as they hugged each other and ran freely across the campground after our closing activity. Even while grappling with all of the hard things in their lives, they supported and affirmed each other in the process. They are the peacemakers of the future.
This is what the sky looked like on the night we did Rites of Passage.
My last day at Peace Village was a whirlwind. It was spent mostly rehearsing for the final performance, which was a combination of song, dance and acting. Some kids were excited, others anxious, but they were all determined to put on a show. I sat at the edge of the combined group of all three age groups, cradling my guitar and looking to Lou Ann for direction. After a couple hours of rehearsal and about ten minutes of letting the kids run around and get their sillies out, it was time to perform. A group of parents gathered in chairs lining one side of the pavilion and we began with the song I mentioned earlier. The kids did their circle dance, holding out peace signs on their hands as they sang:
Different people with the same dreams
Of peace!!
It can happen!
But it starts with you and me!
Yeah, peace is right here!
You just have to let it be!
Watching the groups band together and sing this in unison brought tears to my eyes. The earnesty and conviction on each kid’s face as they sang, It can happen! was a gift to behold. The simple message that peace can be a reality, that it can happen as long as we work together, lit up the space while the kids moved as one. They sang the other songs Lou Ann had written, and we ended with “Lean on Me.” The kids stood in a long line and put their arms around each other, swaying to the rhythm of the chords I strummed. I felt blessed to be in the presence of such a strong community, one that would undoubtedly hold steadfast even as its children grew up. This sharing of songs was just one testimony of the struggle for peace. I was certain that there were many more to come. When the performance ended, the children joined hands and bowed. They were the embodiment of pure joy. I was sad to eventually leave the kids and the Healing Center, but I carried with me the songs and gifts they offered up. May many others experience their light just as I did.
To you, reader: Peace CAN happen. Whenever I doubt this, a child reignites faith in me through song, through drawing, through simply being in community with others and bringing their gifts to the table. Go out and seek peace through the eyes of a child. In doing this, you will find everlasting faith and everchanging love.
A peace sign made of rocks painted by campers and counselors.