This is our first in-person gathering since 2019 … we are looking forward to being together again!
Family Thursday early arrival registration
What happened to me and my siblings from there is a whole other saga but one theme that carries through my whole youth is shame. Shame that my family was different. Shame of eating off paper plates because people thought they would get sick from us eating off their real dishes. Shame that the church asked us to leave because of my family’s status. I was met with ignorance and stigma whenever I disclosed how I was orphaned. I have worked towards healing and forgiveness of these events, and my REACH community has been instrumental with that.
When I found out there was an organization in Tacoma that is giving families what my family needed, I knew I found a community I could give my heart and soul to work with. This community is what my family needed 20 years ago; what I as a young person, needed. A place where they could be supported emotionally, spiritually, and practically. A place of solace and understanding. Where they could have been met with love, acceptance, and a promise of hope. That they weren’t alone in this.
When I see REACH families arrive at camp, I watch a burden lifted from them. Maybe for the first time all year, they feel safe. They feel relief that their kids are loved as they are, that they are with family. These are life changing relationships that can help heal and provide hope for these families.
Watch for more REACH stories coming soon.
In 1991, my life was forever changed by a fast and tragic series of events. First was the birth and death of my baby brother. He came home for 3 weeks and then for reasons unknown to me, had to go back to the hospital. He passed at three months old. Then my mother told me she wouldn’t be alive much longer. She and my father were HIV-positive. At the time, I didn’t even know what HIV was.
Shortly after that talk, my mother passed. My family was split up between my father and a family friend. That situation was short lived for a variety of reasons, so all my siblings and I were returned to our sick and dying father.
As a 12-year-old, I watched my father’s body and spirit be overcome by HIV and then AIDS. In the end, I am not sure if it was the AIDS or the guilt that took him. My dad was a hemophiliac; he spent his youth in hospitals receiving blood transfusions. As science evolved, he was able to do his own transfusions at home. He was saving his own life with other people’s blood. That is how HIV entered our family. It took his wife, his youngest son, and him. How could he not feel guilty? How could he fight that mental battle alone? How could he have hope? My father gave into the effects of AIDS on December 23, 1994.
Watch for part 2 of Jill’s story coming soon.
Throughout 2020, REACH continued creating safe community for our HIV-positive participants and their families. Now in 2021, support for our families is going Broader and Deeper — follow the link and learn more.
https://reachministries.org/Staging/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Spring-2021-Newsletter.pdf
At our first Camp, after the opening ceremonies, amazing counselors came and informed us that they would take our kids and we would see them at the campfire in two hours. What?!? Two hours without kids? How is this loving act possible?! But that’s how it was all weekend. Non-stop. Counselors and staff constantly engaging our children with love and compassion. And it’s not just the kids that got this love and compassion. At parent-only meetings we could just sit back and listen, or interact and engage. All within our own time and space.
After the shock of newness wore off, I remember sitting at dinner and the kids looking around and taking in all of the families. One of my daughters looked at us and said quietly, “The other families look like us.” This melted our hearts. The town we are from has a very small African American population, and an even smaller mixed-race adoptive family population. REACH includes a wide range of families and we blend in perfectly. My kids love it.
Because of REACH, we are not alone. Our future is not yet written, and time will tell the true depth of impact REACH has made on us.
We are a mixed-race family; one child is HIV-positive. Initially, we did not want to adopt an HIV-positive child, but when we met him, we fell in love. An amazing Infectious Disease doctor at Seattle Children’s helped us understand what we were getting into. She was so clear; the hardest thing about HIV would not be medical, it was going to be the stigma.
Once our child was in our family, we chose to inform the principal at school for emergency purposes, even though legally we weren’t required to. The principal immediately called a meeting with the nurse, counselor, multiple teachers, and the district superintendent. Without our permission, he disclosed our son’s health status, crossing a legal boundary. He said his main goal was the safety of the school. He did not express concern for our child.
Our church pastor warned us to inform him if we were going to have our son in Sunday school because it might hurt attendance. It hurt so much to be treated this way at the church we had loved for 10 years. They didn’t even care enough to learn the facts that our child was not a threat. We made the painful choice to switch schools and churches to get a fresh start.
The same doctor at Seattle Children’s encouraged us to try REACH. But, having a newly formed large family… we were in survival mode. It seemed that adding one more activity, like REACH camp, would sink us. Or so we thought. Little did we know that the REACH community is exactly what we needed to help us survive the emotional and physical roller coaster of raising a child with HIV in our large mixed-race adoptive family. We didn’t know we could have authenticity to the level REACH provides.
Watch for part 2 of this story coming soon…
The best thing REACH has done for me is give me a mentor. My mentor is my best friend. We hang out once or twice a month. We do a bunch of fun stuff around town. We even talk about what’s going on in my life, like school, social life, or relationships. She also gives me advice when I need it. She’s been my friend for the past nine or ten years.
Even though I’ve always gone to REACH, the rest of the year isn’t always so great. I usually feel like an outcast. Seeing other kids my age sucks because I know I’m different. I don’t have friends that know what it’s like living with HIV. Sure, I look perfectly fine, but a little voice reminds me that I’m not. Some days it doesn’t bother me, others it’s like a boulder pulling me down. This feeling got worse in fifth grade. We were just starting to learn about HIV in health class. I could tell the information was old. I asked my mom to come into my class to talk about HIV like she did for the high schools. As she told our story it was the first time my classmates knew; I could see how they saw me change. Some pitied me and tried to sympathize, others were disgusted. They avoided me like the plague, thinking they’d get sick. It didn’t stop there, it got worse in high school. I had people calling me names, putting horrible notes in my bag. Eventually I found five or six notes in my locker the day my friend was gone. I told her about it and she admitted she had been throwing them away so I wouldn’t know. I tried to keep people away by putting headphones on and playing my music loudly, giving myself an unapproachable vibe. However, one person insisted on talking to me and did what he could to get my attention. We ended up becoming friends later, simply because he saw me as a person.
However, despite my bad experiences, REACH gives me something to look forward to. Going to Labor Day camp is easily the best four days of my year. We’re a giant family. I have friends I grew up with that are the only ones who know what living with HIV is like. Everybody is kind and understanding, we make sure nobody is left out. Someone always makes sure you feel welcome.
REACH has had and still has a huge impact on my life. They’ve given me hope and the strength to get through each year. Because of them, I know I’m not alone.
Watch for a new REACH Story coming soon…
We have been part of the REACH family for 20 years. In March of 1999, my 8-week-old daughter and I were given our HIV diagnosis along with a life expectancy of 10 years. The world suddenly became chaotic, scary, and lonely. I became involved in the HIV community, but no one in my area had positive children, which made me feel like no one could truly identify with how I was feeling. By the time my daughter, Shay, was 6 months old, we were going to our first appointment at Children’s Hospital of Seattle. This is where we learned of REACH, a place where we could meet families like ours. Shay was 8 months old when we attended our first REACH Camp.
I loved the home visits when she was younger. REACH Staff would come over with smiles, cheer, and little gift baskets for the family, always leaving us feeling special and not forgotten. I also enjoyed the beautifully made quilts REACH would sometimes give out at camp or Christmas time, each quilt is stitched with the words “God loves you” and are draped throughout our home to remind us of the continued love and support that comes to us throughout the year from our REACH family in the form of birthday cards, Christmas cards, and phone calls to see how we are doing.
REACH family camp is the highlight of the year. This is where we get to come together with a larger group of REACH families to have fun and support one another. I have seen people young and old conquer their fear of heights. I have seen children overcome their fear of horses. I have seen my own child conquer her stage fright and perform her heart out in our talent show. For my family, REACH Camp is our vacation time. When my daughter was a baby, I received welfare and had $40 after bills to buy diapers and wipes. I couldn’t afford anything. REACH not only paid for our camp, they reimbursed my gas expense, so I could still afford what I needed for my daughter.
REACH has been like a beacon of light in a world in constant flux. REACH children grow up and achieve great things in their lives, things no one thought they could, and this gives me hope for all our futures.
Watch for Shay’s story coming Thursday…
We just launched new initiatives to serve many more people affected by HIV and provide a deeper level of specialized support developed for our HIV-positive members. We are excited to offer this staff position, restructured around those initiatives.
Learn more about the position.
Priority consideration will be given to applications received by May 14, 2021.
This position is ideal for someone with a bachelor’s degree in social work or related field. Our Program Director integrates the principles of social work and trauma-informed care into all programming, including online and in-person support groups, weekend camps, online and in-person community activities, plus staying connected with clients and volunteers through online chats, personal visits, calls, notes, and social media posts. Provides oversight for planning client programs; executes programs with the Office and Events Coordinator and volunteer leadership team; establishes measurable program outcomes related to an annual theme; and recruits and trains volunteers.
The position is 32-40 hours/week. Benefits include flexible schedule, PTO, and paid holidays.
Click here for the job description and application instructions.
I had originally been interested in REACH so that my girls would have HIV positive peers. And it has been a gift to see them shed layer after layer of emotional armor, to let themselves be silly and free-spirited with new camp friends. I also appreciate that I found community to encourage and lift us. As a single parent, I can count on one hand the people who would show up for us when life gets really messy, but REACH is always there for us.
In my children, HIV comes with serious developmental impacts that are hard to explain to outsiders, especially when trying to protect my family’s privacy. I don’t have to explain any of this to my REACH community. They are unconditionally accepting. I am forever grateful to the staff, dedicated volunteers, and other families who reassure us that we are precious in God’s eyes.
Watch for more stories coming soon.
