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As a volunteer, Royal Family KIDS Camp takes courage. The five unforgettable days can be draining—emotionally, physically, and spiritually—and require a lot of faith and complete reliance on the Lord. In short, camp can be tough. Yet at the same time, we know that our courage ultimately comes from God, and dedicating time and energy to camp is so worth it. The impact that our Royal Family KIDS Camps have is tremendous. With dedication and with the courage we glean from the Lord, so many moments can be made that have the power to alter the trajectory of a child’s life. Kelli’s story is just one example.
In 2025, fifty-nine-year-old Kelli went to Royal Family KIDS Camp as a counselor. Though she was a returning volunteer, she went reluctantly that year, filled with misgivings and the worries of life: the unfortunate effects of that tax season, house renovation, and a lack of rest. The nagging whisper that she was too old, too achy, and too tired kept chipping away at her armor of faith. Yet God’s call was clear. She was to go, no matter how old or sore or tired she felt. In her weakness, God’s strength would be made perfect, and Kelli would help bring a hope to children in foster care that the relational trauma they experienced does not define them; they can have a new name.
At camp, Kelli met a 10-year-old girl full of suspicion, attitude, and eyerolls. From the beginning, she didn’t seem to like Kelli. She was steeped in resistance. She pushed boundaries. And she somehow knew just where to stab at Kelli where she would bleed the most…“Old lady,” she hissed at Kelli, and the little confidence Kelli had instantly deflated. But she prayed. And she knew the only way to repay the girl was with the unconditional love of Christ. So in return for the insults, Kelli gave her a good set of coloring pencils and drawing paper. She taught her to play games. She helped her to relax and take time to ponder creative ideas. By Wednesday morning, instead of another insult, Kelli found two brightly colored pieces of artwork on her bed. These symbols of God’s redemption at work were proudly taped to the cabin wall. And the little girl smiled.
From then on, a bridge was built. The little girl began to open up with the newly formed bond, and for the first time, Kelli understood why the girl disliked her so much at first. The girl explained how her biological mom stole things, used drugs, dated abusive boyfriends who hit her with belts and left welts on her legs, and was now in jail. Her mother’s name was Kelly. It hit Kelli that a name holds the power to hurt and to hold back. Yet at camp, we sing that God can change our name from wounded, outcast, lonely, or afraid to confidence, joyfulness, overcoming one, faithfulness, friend of God, one who seeks His face. God is our redeemer. Because Kelli was faithful to God’s call, despite her weakness and misgivings, that little girl left camp with the knowledge that God can change a name. And she left changed.
One of our values at For The Children is courage: we strive to be unrelenting in our service for the betterment of the individual, families, and society. Kelli demonstrated such courage when she committed to camp, despite her reluctance, and God honored that and used Kelli in a wonderful way to help a certain little girl. What’s more, through her commitment, we see the power of making moments matter. Even the little moments can have big impacts on the lives of children who have experienced relational trauma. Consider this: with over 200 chapters across the US and the globe, with over 170,000 children served and over 21,000 volunteers, how many life-changing moments have been made? And with the courage that we are granted from God, how many more moments can we make—how many more lives can be changed—in the coming years?
