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Sydnee Gomez
English 2010
October 1, 2012
Invisible Children
As I waved goodbye to the enormous yellow bus heading south back into the canyon, I
knew my life would never be the same.
It is the summer of 2007; I am 15 years old and just finally old enough to be a part of an
organization through my church called Royal Family Kids Camp. For many years I have heard
the stories from my fellow church members of how the one week experience could shape your
life and change so much about who you were. I was curious and wanted to understand what this
camp was about. As I filled out my form questions like, “have you ever been convicted of sexual
abuse on a child” scared me. Why would they possibly ask me that? Two weeks later I was
sitting in a room holding eight people. Two of the eight were the instructors and the rest were in
my position, learning the rules and guidelines of the camp. Early on, I realized this was serious.
Royal Family Kids Camp, informally known as RFKC, is a camp for foster and abused kids. Our
goal; to allow these 6-12 year old children be kids for five days. We would just allow them to
have fun and not have to worry about the situations they have been in, or deal with on a daily
basis.
As we headed west past Tooele county and into the canyons, I feel nervous and wonder if
I can pull this camp off. Can I possibly handle every situation that comes up with these kids, or
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am I going to choke? “At least I am not alone” I thought, as I looked towards the driver’s seat in
our large, blue, Dodge pick-up truck. Sitting next to me, as nervous as I am was my dad, Russell.
You see, in order for me to go, being only 15, someone in my family had to attend camp as well.
Always been moved by the stories as well my dad volunteered, and now we are in this together.
Entering the camp was nerve racking. So many people, most who have done this camp
for many years, were setting up the tent and unloading all the food into the kitchen and buzzing
around in golf carts. I had no idea where to look; no idea where to stand. “Syd, give me a hand” I
heard Camp Director Ron yell; and that is where the madness began.
The rest of that night we were unpacking and unloading everything from a box full of
costumes, to bales of hay for who knows what. We gathered in the dining hall for dinner and the
energy was thick and vibrant in the room. Everyone from ages 15 all the way up to 60 were
there, all with a purpose and goal in mind. After praying over each bed and hanging out playing
basketball we were told to get a good night’s sleep, because we were going to need it. The next
morning, counselors gathered their posters, we put on our camp shirt and heading down to the
street where the bus would be unloading the kids. Thirty-six kids were on their way up to us,
both boys and girls and I felt nervous. “What if they don’t like me? I know I’m only an assistant,
but still…” I was practically shaking in my boots, so many things to remember and now it all
came down to this moment. Fifteen more minutes and then we heard the horn.
As the kids came out I was blown away at how excited they were, coming out embracing
their counselors from years back, tears in their eyes that someone actually stuck around just for
them. I found myself helping a little 6 year old. Obviously her first time as well, we were in this
together. I helped her find her counselor who, ironically enough, was stationed in my cabin as
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well. As we walked she grabbed my hand and held tight. Not only did she need me, but I needed
her. We showed the six precious girls our cabin and decorations and had them pick their beds.
Their smiles just lit up that dusty wood cabin. Next thing we knew the music from the tent was
playing and the camp “grandma and grandpa” were beeping the horn of their golf cart, telling us
to head down to the tent. When we got there the boys were mostly there, telling us to hurry so we
could start the songs. All the kids ran up to the front as Mrs. Gina started playing a song about a
gorilla. Already I was in love with these kids, not even really knowing their horrible situations,
but just wanting to love them when no one else would. When I lay down at night I thought about
the day’s events. It started out with us eating a delicious breakfast and then getting to go make
crafts in the activity center. We then got to go swimming which was everyone’s favorite part of
the day. The girls got to head to the wood shop and build bug catchers with grandpa. I remember
almost losing it when one of the boys started stuffing rolls in his pockets because he wasn’t used
to having enough food for the day. His counselor had to tell him multiple times that the kitchen
was open any time he wanted food, that he didn’t need to hoard it anymore. For each meal three
or four kids got picked up by grandma and grandpa and got a tour of the camp on their golf cart.
Once finished they rang the meal bell and each got to pray for the food. As exhausted as I was in
that moment, laying in my bed thinking about the day, I couldn’t wait for another.
When Wednesday came, everyone was even more excited, the kids knew everyone now,
so they were comfortable and today was everyone’s birthday. You see most foster care children
don’t know when their real birthday is and some never get one. So each year on Wednesday, we
have a huge birthday party for all of the kids. We had blow-ups and games and cake and a
barbeque all laid out for them after our afternoon break. I don’t think I have ever seen a child’s
eyes open up so big before in my life. They received backpacks filled with all sorts of pencils
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and crayons. I heard a loud sound and next thing I knew there was fifteen motorcycles driving up
the twisty, dirt road heading into our camp. These men and women riders were there to give the
kids a ride on their motorcycles! Just when I thought they were happy enough, they got even
happier. The rest of the day became full of twists and turns and bouncing and singing. Finally, as
the day wound down to an end, and we were tucking them into bed, I was forced to leave the
room because of my inevitable tears. I was tucking my little six year old into bed and about to
say prayers with her when I heard her whisper that she loved me and that she wanted me to adopt
her and take her home with me. Our duty, to always smile and not cry, these kids have enough
sadness in their lives, they don’t need me crying too. I hurried our process and ran out of the
cabin. The seriousness of the week finally hit me, I finally understood why the stories I heard the
years previous made each person on stage cry. Why every person that goes once continues to go
back every single year, no matter the circumstances. Those kids, those little babies that we had
the privilege to spend a week with were worth everything, but they had never known a world
where people thought of them as anything but disposable.
Thursday was a hard day for the older ones. Those that had been to camp before began to
shut down because they knew what Friday brought. They knew that once they got back on that
bus they had to enter into the hell that was their lives. I tried to stay positive, tried to make it the
best time they had all week. Luckily Coach Guy, who did outdoor activities with them all week,
had something ready. As we walked onto the field a huge tarp was laid out, suds from all the
soap he poured onto the tarp were covering it. He was spraying water down the side, making an
enormous water slide. The little girl who chose me from day one grabbed my hand and pulled me
into a run, until before I knew it we were sliding down the tarp, soaking wet. Again and again we
went, soap and water covering our entire bodies. We had competitions on who could go the
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fastest or who could slide down on our feet. It turned what seemed to be a dreadful day into the
best day yet. During dinner it was all anyone could talk about and the dining room was in an
uproar. All of a sudden some of the counselors began to bang on the table and chant “We want,
we want, we want a kitchen parade,” over and over again until every person in the room was
screaming the cheer. Then I heard pots and pans and metal clashing together as the kitchen staff
all ran out banging and clanking and yelling. Going back and forth through the tables, they
weaved all over and the noise was louder than a rock concert. The kids were cheering and
whooping and life didn’t seem like it could get better. As the day wound down to an end there
were only smiles on everyone’s face. The next day’s events forgotten for a little while and we
were surrounded by happy kids who finally tapped in to what it was supposed to feel like to be a
kid.
When I woke up on Friday I didn’t want to get out of bed, I was not only exhausted both
physically and emotionally, but I knew what today was. Today was when we had to say goodbye
to the most precious kids I have ever met in my entire life. I packed up my things a trudged one
more time down to the ice cold shower that awaited me. I got ready and went to help the
counselors pack the girls up and get them ready. When I walked into the room no one was
speaking, everyone was just gathered in a huddle, hugging and crying. Seeing the counselors
crying, I decided I could finally let it out. I didn’t want to think about where these girls had to go
back to, what kind of lives they lived. After what seemed like hours standing there we finally all
started packing. Putting all of their prizes and crafts that had won and made all week into their
bags was very difficult. What was even more difficult was seeing the look on one of the girls in
my cabin’s face. She was 12, this was her last year at Royal Family, and she was graduating
today. Finally we were done packing and we all went to breakfast. The room was fairly quiet as
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we ate our last meal, no one wanting this week to end. The kids opened their last gifts and we
went and watched the 6 kids that were graduating receive their shirts and papers. I then saw a
purple cloud of balloons coming our way, one for each child. Earlier in the day each child wrote
down a prayer to God and placed it inside a balloon. The counselors took their kids and balloons
and sat away from everyone else together, sending off their balloons, sending their prayers to
God. It was the most emotional experience I have ever gone through, and at that point, I knew I
would do this program for the rest of my life.
This next year, 2013 will be my sixth year being a part of an amazing organization. Last
year was my first year as a counselor and now I have two girls of my own waiting to see me each
year. Royal Family impacted my life so much that now I have a job working with foster kids
every single day. Giving them a few hours after school to be kids and forget, just for a second,
the life they are in.