About a year and a half ago, my husband and I took Jackson to a special needs rodeo in Odessa, Texas—my hometown. It was a blustery January morning, and we hurried into the Ector County Coliseum to escape the bitingly cold wind. It was our first time at the event, and as we entered, I paused to get my bearings as quickly as possible, knowing Jackson would have plenty of questions that needed answers right away.
As we finished checking in for the rodeo—and scored a cute cowboy hat for our 8-year-old—we noticed a table set up with information about Texas Lions Camp. The woman at the table called us over, asked about Jackson’s disability, and began explaining the mission behind the camp.
I had heard a good deal about the Lions Club, the worldwide service organization focused on community betterment, but I had never heard of the camp. Its mission seemed to be summed up in one sentence: “TLC builds self-esteem in children who attend Texas Lions Camp at no cost.”
No cost? I remember thinking, There’s no way.
The woman continued walking us through the options based on Jackson’s diagnoses. She pointed us toward what’s called Family Camp—a two-night sleepaway camp for children with special needs and their families to attend together. Families with children of all ages and a variety of needs are welcome to come with parents and siblings, all at no cost.
There was a short online application, a medical form for our doctor to sign, and a sponsor form to be completed by a local Lion. I took the information, still half expecting that this whole thing was not actually going to work out.
I quickly contacted Kathy and Donald McConnell—Jackson’s former Pre-K teacher and our friends from church—who are both active members of our local Lions Club. They completed the sponsorship form, I gathered the rest of the required paperwork, and we sent in the application.
This camp often has a waitlist, so I tried not to get my hopes up. But we got in.
Jess, the camp’s registrar, emailed us the good news, and we attended Family Camp in the summer of 2025. We went again this summer and even invited neighborhood friends to apply too. Both times, we had the greatest adventure.
What’s it like? That’s honestly hard to describe, but I’ll give it a shot.
For years, I have struggled with embarrassment when I’ve been out in public with Jackson and his behavior or meltdowns felt out of my control. It wasn’t his fault—not at all—but I often felt like a bad parent on display for the world to see.
Jackson’s disability is largely invisible. If you aren’t paying close attention to his gait, his finger stimming, or his fear of getting too far from us, you might never notice. If you tried to talk with him, you might assume he was shy—or, as he has been called before, rude.
But in the difficult moments, when autism happens out loud and in real life, the invisible nature of his diagnosis can open the door to judgment from strangers, and yes, even from close friends or family. And that judgment can stir up something deep: shame. That lingering voice that whispers I’ve failed as a mom.
And when you’ve tried all the things to help your child, nothing hurts more.
But at Texas Lions Camp, my shame began to melt away. Not all at once—it took a minute. It takes time for your body and nervous system to realize you are safe, free from judgment and unrealistic expectations.
But sure enough, my shoulders began to drop from their usual up-by-my-ears position. I could finally breathe.
We were free to be our messy selves. Free to struggle with group activities. Free to say inappropriate things (and honestly, that’s not just Jackson—Scott and I are guilty too). Free to get overstimulated. Free to redefine success when we needed to.
And Jackson? Wow. I wish you could see it.
He absolutely sparkles with confidence when he’s there. He reflects that very “self-esteem” the camp is working so hard to build in each child. Because the environment is challenge-by-choice, he’s free to say no to activities, take a random nap (he is such a fan), or choose something else if he’s struggling.
He and I always say the same thing: camp feels like it ends just when we’ve finally gotten used to it.
So I guess this little blog is really just my love letter to Texas Lions Camp.
We are so thankful for you and for the blessing you have been to our family—and to so many others.
