Yesterday was the last day of camp. Everyone was getting their cabins cleaned and their things packed. There was a hanging feeling of anticipation, but not necessarily the joyous anticipation preceding the variety show last night, but rather more an unsure anxiousness. Most of the kids kept saying that they didn’t want to go home… they really loved their week at camp.
One girl really caught my attention and her story broke my heart. This young lady was one of the older girls. She’d been the first one to talk to me when I showed up on Tuesday, and she was so sweet. Very quiet, but polite and kind. And beautiful. Well, as the closing worship finished up and parents started arriving for the last barbeque lunch together, and then as the other campers and their parents or guardians picked them up, this girl was left alone. It turns out that her group home had forgotten to come pick her up… And she was so sad and upset. Apparently, though, this wasn’t the first time they’d forgotten her or were late.
Because the other counselors had an all-staff meeting, I was asked if I’d sit with her. Of course! I sat down on a picnic table with this sad, beautiful girl, and with concern and care, I asked her about how she was feeling. She told me about the group home and about how she’d known all week that this would happen. Then we sat in silence. I didn’t know what to do, so I asked if she wanted to play a game. She smiled softly and nodded yes. So, I pulled out my deck of cards and I taught her how to play War. Even though she eventually started kicking my butt, I noticed tears gently streaming down her face. She stopped playing… I asked her what she was thinking about. She said she was thinking about all the other campers and how they were probably all at home by then with their moms and dads. I tried to tell her that lots of kids didn’t go home with their parents, but she, rightly, said that none went home to a group home like her.
Then my little friend told me about how much she hated living at the group home and how they were so mean to her. She wanted to leave. Wanted to go back and live with her mom. She said that there was no one she could talk to at the home, and that she had no friends there. I tried to consol her by affirming her relationships and newly made friendships at camp, but she—very poignantly—said that this week at camp only made going back to the group home even worse. I asked her to say more about that and she said, “Now I know how things can be.” In this short week at camp, this young woman had experienced safety, openness, trust, and most importantly love. She said she loved everything about camp and that it made her feel special and wanted. People listened to her and she had friends.
After more silence then, and more tears, I asked again what she was thinking. She said, “I just hate it. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go… Why can’t I go somewhere else?!” More tears. And as I put my hand on her shoulders, I couldn’t think of anything else to say but that I was sorry she had to go back. She closed her eyes, and I said, “Honey, it’s not your fault, and it’s not fair that you have to be there.” She sighed what seemed like a sigh of release and more tears fell. I said, “It’s not fair. You deserve better. You are wonderful and are loved.” Then I asked if she knew that. She nodded yes. I reminded her of the Bible lessons they’d learned about all week, about how God loves each person just as they are. She said she knew that, but that it was hard. My goodness, how wise this 13 year old is… wise beyond her years…
Eventually she wanted to finish the card game, which she ultimately won. And then she went with her cabin counselors to clean up once they finished their staff meeting. As she was leaving she gave me a hug, and I told her that I was glad I met her and that I hoped she always remembered that she had friends who cared about her and a God who loved her. Then she left.
Her story is why I am doing this project this summer. Because reaching out to at-risk youth matters. And is soooo needed. This young girl lives most of her life in a hell few of us have ever, or will ever, know. But, one week a year, at least, she’s able to go to a place that really makes her feel loved and wanted. Strong, caring, affirming, listening, and supportive adults, along with other peers who likewise want to have fun and be cared for, helped to create an experience for her at camp that gave her peace of mind and built up her self-esteem. It gave her just enough hope, just enough love, to get her through her dark days. And hopefully she finds other people or communities outside of camp that can continue that work of building her up year-long.
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