Sam has been home from the Jamboree for a month now. Newly arrived, he had stories and adventures to tell, badge trading results and souvenirs to show. He loved it, he tried new things, it was amazing.
As I listened to his adventures of scuba diving, zip-lining and the best meal ever eaten (thank you to the Amish restaurant that still has him raving about your food), I felt that he had grown. Yes, maybe on the outside, but something was different.
I sat on his bed as he unpacked from the trip; he told me about his second night. His roommates realized he took pills morning and night and were curious about it. They wanted to know why. So Sam explained.
He explained how his birth mom did meth during her pregnancy with him. He talked about ADHD and learning difficulties. He spoke about CVID and how he has monthly infusions on top of the medications his roommates saw him take morning and night. As he talked, his three roommates asked questions. They were genuinely interested. They wanted to know.
And when he was done explaining, one of the boys mentioned how blessed he felt not to have those problems. He was grateful for a body that did not need daily medications. But most of all, he was impressed with Sam and how he handled his medical difficulties.
As I watched Sam tell me this story, I could tell he sat a little taller and spoke of this story with almost reverence. It changed him, telling his story. It was as if Sam finally realized how strong he truly is. And he likes his strength. And I do, too.