Every week at the end of tape night, fans with special passes lined up to greet the cast backstage. Most special to me were kids in wheelchairs or on crutches or who had some kind of tubing device that helped them breathe. These kids had the most astounding wish—to meet Mike Seaver—before they died. These critically or terminally ill children had their dreams carried out through the Make-A-Wish Foundation or the Starlight Foundation.
My heart was touched by these kids, who asked for so little. I spent as much time as I could with them. Sometimes my mother invited them to her house for an after-tape party, or we took them out to dinner. Mom and Dad bought giant white teddy bears as mementoes to take home. Occasionally, if the children were too sick to travel, I’d try to call them.
Mom and associate producer Joey Scott put their heads together and found other ways to highlight these children and make them feel special. The announcer might introduce them—by name—as a special guest. The spotlight slid across the audience to highlight a beaming face. “I have something special for Billy,” I said, as I walked to the Seaver closet and pulled out a Growing Pains jacket with his name embroidered on it.
Although it took six to eight months to have those wishes fulfilled, once the date came closer to arriving on the set of Growing Pains, the child often started showing signs of recovery. It was a strange phenomenon. It seemed as if the kids were determined to let nothing get in the way of their dream coming true.
Once they arrived at the studio, often by way of a limousine ride, they perked up even more. One girl had a difficult time breathing and was on a respirator and a feeding tube. Her mom began crying as she shared with us, “This is the first time in 10 years that Melissa has said, ‘Mommy, I’m hungry.’ ” That little girl was so enthralled that for a brief moment, everything worked and she forgot about her disease.
We were all very aware that after these wishes were fulfilled, many children deteriorated pretty quickly because either there was nothing more for them to look forward to, or because their disease simply took over. Consequently, it was hard for Mom, Joey and me to let the night end. It was incredibly hard to say goodbye. We knew we would never see these kids again.
I can’t take much credit for these events. I just showed up and loved the kids. Mom did most of the work and had the most creative ideas for making the fulfillment of their wishes very special. Joey helped run interference and get things completed.
Once we connected so much with a family that Joey and Mom arranged something very special for Christmas. They had a limo sent to pick up the family at the airport. The driver, dressed as Santa, held a sign with the little girl’s name on it in the middle of the airport where everyone could see how important she was.
Joey and Mom bought a huge, life-sized stuffed animal and tucked it in the limo’s back seat with a note from me saying that I couldn’t wait to meet her and her family.
They came to the show and had a great time. As an added surprise, Joey and Mom arranged to have the cast waiting for them with a cake at a really fun restaurant. When we arrived, everything was set up like a big party. Because or our high recognition factor, everyone in the restaurant wondered who the cast of Growing Pains was waiting for. It must be someone very special. The joy on the family’s faces was something we never forgot.
We said goodbye, which was very hard for the little girl. What she didn’t know was that the party wasn’t over yet.
The next morning, Joey and I were waiting for her in the lobby of the hotel. She thought we had simply come to say another goodbye and was very sad—until we swept her off to Disneyland for the day.
Once, a boy named Brandon came to the show through the Starlight Foundation. He suffered from a severe heart condition. It was his dream to have a family like Ben Seaver, my character’s younger brother. His parents were divorced, and he felt like the Seavers were the perfect family. He spent the day with Jeremy Miller. I remember signing a photo for him, writing “God bless you” above my autograph.
Years later, while on the set of the first Left Behind film, I received a letter and newspaper clipping from Brandon. The article spoke of Brandon’s miraculous recovery and how—even more impressively—he was at the top of his class at Louisiana Tech University and would be starting medical school at Tulane the following fall. His dream was to work side by side with the doctor who had saved his life.
I just had to talk to him personally, so we connected by phone. Brandon told me that the autograph I’d signed all those years ago had encouraged him throughout his medical ups and downs. He felt that God really did love him and had plans for his future.
Brandon not only reconnected with Jeremy during the filming of the Growing Pains reunion movie in New Orleans, he also found out that he would be working with his own doctors at Texas Children’s Hospital after his graduation. Brandon is now in his fellowship at the Mayo Clinic, on his way to becoming a pediatric cardiologist—a heart doctor for seriously ill children. He often stays at our home when he’s visiting California. Jeremy even comes over once in a while and cooks for him and our family.
Over the years, it was hard not to notice some very important dynamics in these families—namely, the huge weight on the shoulders of the parents. Their lives literally stopped when a seriously ill child came into their lives. Every minute and every dollar were spent on the medical needs to sustain their child’s life. They no longer had any time or money to spend with their spouse or with the other children in the family. All attention was focused on the sick child.
About the time I met Chelsea, I felt something more needed to be done for these exhausted, strapped, stressed families. The idea came up to have a special summer camp for them. Mom put her amazing creativity to work. I told her some of what I envisioned, but left most of the brain and legwork up to her. I trusted her, and knew she would come up with great ideas.
Mom began searching for a venue for the camp and, through a friend, discovered a resort outside of Pine Mountain, Georgia, called Callaway Gardens. Callaway has 13,000 acres of land, including a 3,000-acre wilderness preserve, fishing, lakes, bicycle and hiking trails, 36 holes of golf, an Azalea garden and the world’s largest manmade, white-sand beach on a lake.
The more Mom researched, the more she knew this would be the perfect place. With help from good friends Mark Collins and Lisa West, the first Camp Callaway began to take shape. The first retreat in 1989 set the stage for what the camp would look like, stand for and give to the families of seriously ill children.
Mom has since handed over the job of organizing the camp to Chelsea. The camp has changed names from Camp Callaway to Camp Firefly, but much of what Mom began still happens each year at this magical place.
Some friends of ours in Buffalo helped us come up with the new name. We loved it for two reasons—fireflies are light, and hope is light. We want to bring the light of hope to these families—that they can always be a family, no matter what happens. We also loved it because Camp Firefly is filled with fireflies. They are everywhere at nighttime. The kids catch them in jars and watch them light up like fairies.
The process begins when Chelsea and I contact pediatric doctors and social workers throughout the nation. They send us a list of their three highest recommendations of children whom they feel would most benefit from the experience, and who are medically able to travel to Georgia. The whole family situation is considered, and we try to “gift” the families who don’t have the resources to do something like Camp Firefly on their own.
Once Chelsea and I have the recommendations, we choose the families through much prayer and discussion. We try to blend and match families in some meaningful ways. For example, we try to get two single-mom families at camp the same week so that they likely have one person who understands their situation. We try to match the ages of the children so that everyone has someone to hang out with.
Most retreats for seriously ill children are for the child himself—a camp for kids with cancer, or kids with diabetes or cystic fibrosis. They usually go solo, without their siblings or parents. Camp Firefly, however, runs on a unique principle: We recognize that the entire family is affected by a child’s illness. We understand that well children are often left behind, with all the attention focused on their sick sibling. The parents rarely see each other—and when they do, it’s very stressful because they must always be focused on the sick child. By bringing entire families to camp, we hope we can generate togetherness, family wholeness, bonding and healing.
Camp Firefly is designed to bring laughter back into the lives of stressed-out families. For husbands to see their wives as the sweetheart they married. For wives to fall in love with their husbands again. For kids from all the families, sick and well, to connect with each other quickly, because these are people who understand exactly what their lives are like.
The families never know they are being considered for the camp—we don’t want to hurt feelings or cause disappointment if they are not chosen. The first time they hear about it is when they receive a phone call from one of our staff members with an invitation to attend. Once they accept, Chelsea and I call and let them know we are excited to meet them. The families don’t have to do anything but pack their clothes and wait for their itinerary. From that point on, everything is taken care of for them.
A car often picks the family up from their home and takes them to the airport, where they board a plane to Georgia. All the families arrive about the same time—thanks to Smokin’ Jo Bullard, our friend at Delta Airlines who donates her time to work out the details for us.
The families arrive at camp to find luxury cars for their use while they are at the resort. Bill and Barbara Florence, owners of a Lexus dealership in the area, are incredibly generous to lend us these vehicles.
The staff helps to load the cars and then leads each family to the three- or four-bedroom villa they will call home for the next week. Nestled on forested hillsides, each place has a fully equipped kitchen, a washer and dryer, a large living area, a sundeck, a patio and a screened porch. We stock each villa with the family’s favorite breakfast foods, muffins, cookies, snacks and fruits. In the fridge, there’s bacon, eggs, orange juice and milk. Each bedroom has a pair of new sneakers for each family member, toys, T-shirts, pants, shorts and stuffed animals for the little ones. The parents find books, chocolates and other goodies on their beds.
Once settled, everyone gathers at the pool for a fiesta welcome buffet, where we all get to know each other a little.
The first year, I was unsure how to set the mood for the camp, so I picked up my sister Bridgette and threw her into the pool with all her clothes on. Within minutes, many of the staff members and guests were also in the pool, dressed head to toe in clothes plastered to their skin. They didn’t need much more of a hint. From that point on, all masks fell away, and the happiness of simply living bubbled over. Since then, I’ve learned less drastic ways of getting people to connect. I’ve also learned that people in such tough situations connect with each other on their own very quickly. They don’t need a lot of coaxing. They, of all people, understand the preciousness of time.
After our welcome dinner, the families hear about the following day’s activities.
Each day is a different theme. One day we go to the beach and have a luau. The kids—sick and well—ride boogie boards, water skis and inner-tubes. Some even take the jet skis out for a spin.
One day we have a barbecue, topped off with a barn dance.
On Circus Day, we go to the big top where circus performers train. The children get to try out the trapezes and trampolines. I sometimes teach magic tricks.
There are sing-a-longs, s’mores and bike rides for those who are able.
One very special day, the dads all play golf together, the kids have a very special day of their own and the moms get a makeover. Sometimes a husband tears up when he sees his sweetheart looking just like the woman he fell in love with. That evening, the couples go to the restaurant on the grounds and share a candlelit dinner. For most, it’s the first time in months or years they have been able to connect and be romantic.
People wonder how the kids can do all these things when they are so incredibly sick. What Chelsea and I have learned about sick children is that their spirits can be unbelievably strong. They may have medical tubes coming out of various limbs, but they just tape ’em down and join in the fun! They’re kids. And they’re living.
Chelsea says, “Camp shows you that as long as you’re here, you’re living, not dying. These kids don’t live like they’re dying . . . they live like they’re living.”
Camp helps them feel alive. It helps kids be kids. It helps the entire family to forget about the illness for a week. This gives them a chance to re-bond and heal as a family.
It doesn’t take long to forget who is sick and who isn’t. Everyone is so full of life. We learn so much from these families. They love in a way we have yet to learn. They understand that time is precious.
By the time the week is over, new, lifelong friendships have developed. These friendships are so strong that the families often return to camp reunions—often without the child who was the reason they had come in the first place.
After 18 years of Camp Firefly, we are still totally hands-on. Chelsea is the one who does most of the work organizing and overseeing. It’s a huge task, but one she wouldn’t give up for the world. We see this as a camp that God has entrusted to us, and we always want to be good stewards of His precious gifts.
Chelsea and I love going to camp. Our kids love it, too. Yes, we go as a family. We look forward every June to when we can make new friends. While we’re there we are facilitators, but sometimes we are witnesses of miracles that take place before our eyes. Not miracles in the sense that the sick children suddenly are healed, but in the way families share a new light in their eyes. We see families connect with other families, bonding in ways that rarely happen in the rest of the world.
“It is the most important week of our year,” Chelsea says, “as far as what we learn, what we take away from it, what the children learn and the eternal perspective they receive. Camp reminds us and teaches us how we need to live as parents, and gives us an appreciation for every minute of our fragile lives. I personally come back different every year. It’s just amazing. I am so thankful for the camp. I’m unbelievably privileged to be a part of it.”