“Home of the Heroes”

“God gave me you. It was then that I knew He’d given me more than my share. So campers hold hands, and say we’ll never part. For Camp ASCCA and all our friends will live within our hearts.” Each night, these verses are sung by the choir of campers and counselors, yet truer words have never rolled off my tongue. The past summer may only be a blip compared to a life’s length, but its experiences and relationships will have a hold on my heart for as long as it beats.
Six months ago, I made the decision to use my summer in order to gain experience, empathy, and a higher level of education for people with disabilities. Three months ago, I arrived at camp and began to work. Then it happened. The Muscular Dystrophy Association arrived. They approached zip line and forever changed my life. A young man with empowering enthusiasm was harnessed by fellow staff. His body was hoisted out of his chair, and he began to rise to my reach. A few clicks, twists, and transfers later he was calmly resting in my arms at the edge. Together, we counted to three. Then, he was set free and began to fly. Laughing, he looked into my eyes with pure pleasure. At that moment, my decision became a dedication.
Later in the summer, my eyes were opened as I stepped into the silence. A young man, with a large heart but a loss of hearing, brought me to a halt. My words were stolen, but his patience substituted them with signs. At sunrise, I helped him dress and in exchange he taught me about his world. My quick paced and blinder-sight way of life was quickly trampled by his repeated way of speech and constant surveying of his surroundings. When we had conversations all other noise filtered out and I focused in. Never before, had I listened as closely as I did to the man who couldn’t speak.
Yet these are merely two stories out of hundreds. When you tuck in a nine year old with Down Syndrome and he puts his hand on your cheek to say goodnight, are trusted enough by a blind teenager to guide him through his leap off of the Ziptower platform, or have the honor of picking up a girl who communicates through a message board for a dance at prom, you are washed in waves of awe, compassion, and bliss.
I have worked at the Alabama Special Camp for Children and Adults nearly three months. I performed everything from sending campers on zip lines, up rock walls, and down waterslides to changing diapers and soiled linens, showering, and treating the fear of dark and homesickness. Yet, it is the blessed people called campers who took care of me. They taught me what to strive for, what to live for, and to never give up hope. They are my heroes and I hope to serve them for the rest of my life.