Dawson's Time to SHINE

As a child, the only way my sisters and I experienced summer camp was through repeated viewings of The Parent Trap and Bug Juice. And while that was entertaining, summer camp always felt like something other people did—completely unrelatable to me.

So last year, when a teacher on Dawson’s IEP team suggested a summer camp for children with autism and other special needs, it honestly felt unnecessary. Dawson is a fairly independent kid, and the dates just didn’t work for us that summer. I brushed it off.

But this camp—Operation Shine—kept popping up. My in-laws brought us a brochure from the state fair, excitedly saying it looked perfect for Dawson. That same teacher followed up to see if we were considering it for this summer. Then another parent shared how impactful it had been for her child. The more I heard, the more intrigued I became. I finally decided to get on the waitlist and see what happened.

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Low and behold, this year I became that parent—the one setting a calendar alert to make sure my child got a spot as soon as registration opened. And to my excitement, Dawson was able to be signed up for their one-day camp.

As summer approached, a camp employee reached out to connect about Dawson. I expected a quick call about the basics—but instead, it turned into a 45-minute conversation where she asked thoughtful, in-depth questions with one clear goal: to really know him. By the end, she understood his journey to diagnosis, his favorite things, his triggers, how he self-regulates, and everything in between. I felt an incredible sense of peace knowing the staff truly understood and valued Dawson.

A couple of weeks before camp, we received a packet in the mail with all the details—logistics, a packing checklist, and even a social story to help Dawson visualize the day. They had thought of everything. Dawson couldn’t stop telling people, “It’s a camp made just for me!”

On the hour-long drive to camp, Dawson admitted he was feeling a bit overwhelmed—excited, but nervous. He wondered about the other campers, if he’d feel shy, or what would happen if he didn’t like something. We talked through his worries, and I reminded him that this camp was built for kids just like him. All those feelings were okay—more than okay, they were expected and supported.

Then came the moment I’ll never forget.

As we pulled into the campground, we were greeted with a receiving celebration—an unforgettable welcome for every camper. Two smiling girls approached our car and asked Dawson’s name and how he’d like to be greeted: loud cheers, medium cheers, or silent. He hesitated. When they learned he was a first-time camper, they explained, “This is YOUR celebration—you get to choose.” Dawson picked medium cheers—with his calmer earbuds in.

We turned the corner, and there it was—a stretch of road lined on both sides with people cheering, signs with Dawson’s name, and friendly faces waving. My eyes filled with tears—not out of fear or worry, but pure gratitude. This was a place that celebrated who Dawson is, from the very first minute he entered it.

Two camp volunteers met us at the car with signs they had made just for him—covered in dinosaurs, Pokémon, Harry Potter, and his favorite colors. They immediately asked how he was feeling, and when he admitted he was a bit nervous, they responded with warmth and encouragement. Within five minutes, he was confidently saying goodbye and heading off to explore.

Kamden and I were invited to join the cheering line after drop-off, and I’m so glad we did. I saw the joy radiating from every camper—and from the proud, emotional parents just like me. It was a celebration of individuality, of courage, and of belonging.

Dawson spent the entire day at camp, and that evening, we were invited to a closing celebration featuring photos and videos from the day. I watched from a distance as Dawson laughed and chatted with his support campers—completely comfortable in a setting that would typically overwhelm him.

In just one day, this camp had created safety and trust.

The slideshow captured moments of campers ziplining, playing lake games, crafting, exploring, and connecting—with staff and volunteers who had clearly invested time and heart into making this experience meaningful. Every child was seen. Every child was celebrated.

Back at home, Dawson has continued to share stories—friends he made, things he tried, moments where he was scared but pushed through, like climbing into a harness and stacking crates high into the air. Each memory he shares is full of joy, confidence, and pride.

Dawson is an independent and proud autistic person. But the reality is, he lives in a world that often asks him to work harder just to fit in. That’s why this camp meant so much. For one whole day, he didn’t have to mask or navigate social expectations—he just got to be Dawson. And that day, he truly got to SHINE. 

Dawson’s day at Operation Shine reminded me that when we build spaces with love, thought, and true inclusion, every child can shine—just as they are. 

And yes, Dawson is already asking when he gets to go back!

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Operation Shine Camp is an event created by the Kids & Dreams Foundation. If you’d like to learn more or support this amazing organization, please visit their website.