One of the topics that I truly enjoy discussing with special needs families is travel, specifically, vacations and different ideas for how to take them, but more importantly, how to take them successfully. In August, I shared a short video blog about some of my favorite ideas and suggestions for traveling, one of several I have done, and these include camping, tips for road trips and air travel, and doing a special needs family retreat through a disability ministry. But there is one experience that my son recently had that was both new for him, but also new for me as a parent as well, and one that was especially unique since it involved him going to an overnight camp for three weeks. Truthfully, this was something I would have never considered for my son, for any number of reasons, most notably that he is more severely autistic, so he struggles with many daily independent tasks due to a variety of motor issues. He is also functionally non-verbal, so he cannot communicate with spoken language at all, instead depending on an Ipad app and visual cues or body language to share his needs. Top all of that off with the fact he has never been away from home without mom or dad at all, and it creates quite a challenge.
Nevertheless, when his mom brought the information to me about the camp, and said she believed it would be a good idea and he was ready for it, to say I was skeptical is a far understatement. Since we are divorced, there was never a deep prolonged conversation, rather, I was sent all of the information she had already researched, along with contact names for the camp. If I had any reservations, needed to communicate that.
Knowing her personality, I felt her mind was already made up, and rather than getting into a confrontational stance about it, I allowed the experience to happen, with fingers and toes crossed and lots of fervent prayers. To be fair, I was familiar with the camp, the organization and their history, as they are a very large organization that serves Jewish families in our community. Where we live, on the so-called “north shore” of Chicago, there is a very large and vibrant Jewish population, where my ex-wife and son’s mother actually grew up, before converting and accepting Jesus as Lord. The organization has a very popular camp that they have hosted for years, on private land in Wisconsin, and many special needs children and teenagers attend as well. A separate part of the camp embraces and supports the special needs community. Many students from my son’s special education program at school also attend, whether they are Jewish or not. All are welcome, and that is something families like ours are very grateful for. I did what I felt I needed to do to help satisfy my concerns, including a phone call with one of the directors, who assured me that a child like my son was not an issue for them. I also attended one of the zoom conference calls the organization did for parents who were new to the camp and had questions or concerns on a variety of issues.
A couple of months passed, and before we knew it it was Fathers Day, ironically the same day that my son would leave home for the first time. Daddy would be celebrating without his son, and being divorced, Father’s Day was emotionally hard on many levels. Nevertheless, I did what any good parent would do, calmed my heart and feelings, and met my son and his mom at the bus pick up site, in the parking lot of a large mall a few towns away from us. The organization had literally taken up one whole side of the mall, and families were swarming all over seeking to find their respective lines and kiosks for check in.
Photo credit: Harika G on Unsplash.com.
Eventually, a couple of the college-aged counselors approached us, and recognizing my son from a previous meeting, came over and filled us in on the process. My son was visibly tired, having needed to get up early enough to meet the buses, as opposed to sleeping in on a Sunday morning when he didn’t have to be attending his special needs church group. He rested his head on my chest; I acknowledged his gesture by scratching his head, an interaction that made me instantly nostalgic for days of youth gone by. A few minutes later, his counselors motioned him over towards the line for his bus. I kissed him on the head goodbye, told him I loved him and was proud of him, and let him walk into a huge milestone in his life. I collected my emotions, wiped a tear from my eye, and went to Father’s Day lunch with a friend and his family.
Over the next days and weeks, I received updates both from his mom and from the Facebook page for the camp as well. There was also an email newsletter, which I freely admit—I was late to the party in signing up, but luckily I had help from a friend whose kids also attended the camp. In the first few pictures, I could tell that he seemed happy and excited to be there, which was pretty typical for him, being so new to it all. Eventually, the pictures began to confirm what I expected: it was a whole new schedule and routine for him, and unfortunately, that also meant he was getting burned out pretty quickly. The remedy for this was that he was moved to a slightly “slower moving” group still within his special needs area. But what shocked me most of all was a text I received after the first week, from a young woman who I had worked with previously in my position with a local special needs non-profit. The text was very simply written: “I have been seeing Christopher a lot, he is doing amazing in camp.”
I was a bit startled and confused at first, not realizing who was actually texting me. Once I recognized that it was her, I responded with an “awesome, thank you!” and also remembered that she had met Chris at a couple of the events I used to manage for the company. She certainly would have recognized the same last name, and no doubt recalled me speaking to her and others in our organization about having my own son with challenges.
I immediately felt a sense of relief that my son not only had good, well trained counselors as one-to-one aides, but he even had someone who had a special interest in him as well. That knowledge made the rest of the days and next couple of weeks go by rather easily. In true camp fashion, I didn’t get a lot of direct communication through text or phone calls, but rather, the few pictures I would see every other day and yes...postcards. I made sure to send at least one a week to him; in turn, I received a few with his signature scribbles on them. Time passed, and before I knew it, the Friday of his return came, and there he was, all grown up in so many new ways. But it wasn’t just him that did some growing: I had my share of growing as well, and in terms of things that I learned, there were a few of those.
Things Dad Learned:
My Son Is Way More Resilient Than I Thought
I was petrified at the thought of him going away to camp by himself, without a parent, without me, right there next to him. Who would take care of him? How could he take care of himself? The reality was that he had plenty of support and help, and even though the people and the situations were new, they were exactly what and who he needed. He also did what any typical child would do in his situation: he adapted. He may have needed to go a little slower than his peers, but he still engaged in all the activities; he spent time with his new friends, and was with his group, instead of being isolated.
I Am More Resilient Than I Thought
I didn’t know how I would deal with him away by himself, but even beyond the worry of him being on his own, I also had to come to terms with my own sense of loss and grief, since this was the first time my son had been away from home ever. That also meant it was the first time that I was apart from him for an extended period of time—three weeks to be exact—and this was the first time I have been without my son for three weeks, since he was born. Add to that the fact that now being divorced, I was literally coming home to no one for all of that time as well. But I remembered that this was a great opportunity for him to be away from mom and dad and be independent. It also meant that I had an opportunity to connect with family and friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, and get closer to God in general. I also took the time to focus on my writing in a newfound, uninterrupted setting, and it was only then I realized how easily distracted I could make myself, too.
We Both Have Brothers And Sisters In The Lord
A short time after my wife and I separated, I met with a Catholic priest from my community to discuss my recent unexpected situation. He encouraged me, as I was working with emotions that were still very raw and painful, to say The Lord’s Prayer each day for a week. When I said the prayer, he explained, to make sure that I not only say it very slowly and intentionally, but also to observe what words or phrases jump out at me each day. He then asked me about the first two words in the prayer, “Our Father.” “What does that mean to you?” he asked. I pondered it for a second, and then reasoned my way through his question. “It means I have a Father in heaven who loves me?” “Yes”, the priest replied, “And?” “My Father in heaven loves me as his son?” “Yes and what else?” the priest continued. I stopped being legitimately perplexed, and then the priest enlightened me. “It also means if He is your father, then you have brothers and sisters in Christ who will also walk beside and with you.”
From that conversation, it occurred to me that no matter what happened from that point on, wherever the road of life would take me, I would still be my Heavenly Father’s son, and I have a very large family that will walk with me through it all. Likewise, I learned that my son equally has the same promises made to him, as he was really never alone at camp. His Father came with him, and he clearly had brothers and sisters just waiting for him, ready to help support him. This realization also meant that these promises were not just for one summer at camp, or the many summers after. Since it applies to the entirety of his life, everywhere he goes and everything he does, I may not always be there, but his real Dad and family always will.
Follow John on his website: www.johnfelageller.com.
