If you know me well enough, you know I can barely go a conversation without talking about camp.
For the last 7 years I’ve been a part of Royal Family KIDS – a summer camp for abused, abandoned and neglected children in the foster care system. I am madly in love with this camp in more than one way. But here is my confession, I can hardly fathom the thought of missing camp next year while I am away on the race.
The last few days I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the fact that I will not be going to camp this summer. Here’s how I’m processing it.
To the boy who wouldn’t get on the bus,
I just need to tell you I’m sorry.
I remember how frustrated I was that Friday afternoon; it was the final day of camp and you refused to get on the bus. It was time to head back to the church for our farewell ceremony and you were totally not about that business. Not only was it hot, but I was a sweaty mess, I was tired, I was hungry and I was ready to go home.
Here’s what I forgot to acknowledge in that moment. You had no idea where you were going after our farewell ceremony was over. You had no idea who was going to be there to pick you up. Camp was respite for you. You were in between foster homes and you felt like you had no place to go. For the last week, camp was your “home” and you clearly weren’t ready to leave. If I was in your shoes, I don’t think I would have gotten on the bus either.
Though you may not know it, in that moment I was operating out of my human heart. After following you around camp with a handful of other staff for what seemed like a solid hour, playing phone tag with the director and trying to figure out how to get you back to the church I was done. I was ready to throw in the towel. And to be honest with you, boy who wouldn’t get on the bus, I don’t really remember how the situation resolved itself.
Here’s what I do remember:
I remember how selfish I felt. I remember how heavy my heart was for you after I realized what was going on in your tiny little brain. I remember how frustrated I was. I remember not praying for you.
So here’s my apology.
I’m sorry for not understanding the deeper issue. I’m sorry I wasn’t more sympathetic. I’m sorry for not praying for you. I’m sorry I let my emotions get the best of me. I’m sorry, I really am.
But there is something I’m even more sorry about … I’m sorry I won’t be at camp next year. I’m sorry I won’t be there the next time you refuse to get on the bus. I’m sorry I won’t be there to answer your questions and read you bedtime stories. I’m sorry I won’t be there when you’re angry and just need someone to talk to. I’m sorry I won’t be there for your birthday, I can only imagine how excited you will be when you get your birthday box.
I can’t say “sorry” enough. My eyes well up with tears when I think about missing camp this summer and my heart physically aches, but I just can’t be there this year. The Lord has called me to something different and that something doesn’t include camp.
He’s a good Father and He knows what He is doing, sometimes it’s just hard to trust that.
So, sweet little boy who wouldn’t get on the bus, don’t for a second think I’m giving up on you. Don’t for a second think I have stopped caring about and praying for you. Don’t for a second think I’ve forgotten about you. Please, oh please, know the memories I have of camp are deeply engraved in my heart. I just can’t be there this year.
Camp is full of incredible people who love you and who cherish making memories with you. Camp is a safe place for you to simply be a kid. Camp is a place where you can learn about a man and a Father whose love for you is greater than any other love we’ve ever known.
Tell everyone I said hello.
With all my love.
Your camp friend,
Victoria.
PS: Want to know more about camp? Click here and check out the video below!
