"Go to camp, get uncomfy, meet God."

We’re back for another camp story. This time Dr. Austin Clark shares his camp experience. Austin has consistently shared with us how formative going to camp and working at camp has been for him. In a recent conversation with Nolan and me, he spoke again about the values of camp. You can read the entirety of his thoughts below, but this statement stands out: In an age when it’s easier than ever to be isolated, anonymous, and online, we need spaces where we can relearn the difficult, messy, but infinitely rewarding work of connecting with peers. Austin articulated in that one sentence the necessity of spaces like camp and the very reason why children (and parents) may be hesitant to come…it stretches us, and stretching is uncomfortable. Yet navigating manageable challenges is an integral part of building resilience, and camp is the perfect place for growing skills and developing resilience. If you’re on the fence about coming to camp because it feels uncomfortable, I hope Austin’s story will encourage you and challenge you to allow yourself (or your child) a bit of discomfort to come to camp. Here's Austin's story:

Dear KC family,

Summer beckons and camp is right around the corner! I’m honored to have been asked to share how camp formed me. Some introductions, my name is Austin Clark, the son of Nolan and Jennifer Clark, who you may know. I grew up at KC as a camper, worked two summers as a counselor in college, and worked two summers as a program director. My time as a staff member ended when I went on to LSU New Orleans Medical School, and I’m now entering my second year of residency at Vanderbilt. Now that we have the general trajectory, allow me to share how camp truly shaped my identity and grew me into the man I am today.

              We often tout camp as a place of adventure, a place of overcoming adversity. With these phrases, we pair images of jumping off the power pole or shooting a bow and arrow. I would counter that the real adversity we all overcame as campers was meeting a room full of strangers on Sunday and getting to know one another over the course of a week. It was terrifying, and it was so necessary! I can’t tell you how important it was for me to be stretched, to get uncomfortable, to learn how to enjoy people. In an age when it’s easier than ever to be isolated, anonymous, and online, we need spaces where we can relearn the difficult, messy, but infinitely rewarding work of connecting with peers. This is the work that has paid so many dividends in my life. Whether meeting friends and finding mentors at school, finding spiritual community at church, or building relationships with my patients and their family members in the hospital, I use the confidence to connect that I gained from my experience at camp.

              Counselors are tasked with an even more frightening task- teaching. I can’t tell you how much of an imposter I felt sharing about Jesus with my kids. Couldn’t the kids, my co-counselors, my directors, all see how much I, myself, was struggling or how little I understood? I’m even reminded of how lost I became when trying to explain how to shoot a bow correctly, a task I’d performed innumerable times but had never been forced to put into words for an eight-year-old. Teaching is quite another skill entirely from doing. I’m blessed to have learned how to teach at Kings Camp. It’s a skill I use every day with students, patients, and families. My journey to becoming a leader began as a counselor at camp. 

              I could keep gushing about how camp grew my adaptability (try entertaining 80 preteens for longer than an hour), my resiliency (it’s physically, mentally, and emotionally taxing), or my identity (God met me here and called me by name). There are too many stories to tell! I’ll stop short though and hope the teaser is enough for you to ask someone you know about KC and why people love this place so much. Last anecdote, when I was interviewing at big university hospitals for residency, I didn’t get asked about my first-author publications, my president or vice-president positions in such-and-such club, or my award for academic whatever. That stuff is boring and predictable. I got asked about shepherding little minds and hearts in the swamps of Louisiana. I told them tales of pulling an unconscious fisherman out of the bayou in a Darth Vader costume, fighting off plagues of stomach bugs with two Lysol cans and some paper towels, and carrying around a kid with a twisted ankle to every activity so he wouldn’t miss out. Go to camp, get uncomfy, meet God.

Much love,

R. Austin Clark