Elea Wade-Craig was served on the North Carolina Legacy Retreat® in April 2025. She shares how the life-changing experience impacted her family.
How can I possibly sum up our experience at Inheritance of Hope’s North Carolina Legacy Retreat®?
There were moments of quiet reflection and wild joy. Moments of inner reckoning and gentle healing. It was a tapestry of growth, exploration, love, and truth—woven together in the sweet Carolina air.
I watched these beautiful kids simply be kids. I heard laughter echo across the lake and saw tears caught in the corners of soft, brave eyes. I watched them catch their first fish, play air hockey like champions (and totally kick my butt), ride horses, play kickball, and build friendships thick as thieves.
One sticky, starlit night, Amelia caught her first frog, her eyes wide with wonder, her heart alight and open. It was magic.
We made keepsakes that will outlive us. We designed Kendra Scott jewelry, snuck off for midnight cereal runs because our bodies were still in Mountain Standard Time, and let joy guide us.
Elea (right) and her family at the North Carolina Legacy Retreat®
Eric and I had space to breathe… to speak out loud to each other the fears we carry and the joys we hold on to. To sit together on a porch in the hush of night, held by rocking chairs, serenaded by a nocturnal orchestra. We connected with other parents who understood without explanation. Some conversations were had together, some solo—but always, we were met with understanding.
We felt safe enough to unravel. There were moments of frustration, grief, and revelation. Some of us stared our ghosts straight in the eye. And in this sacred, uniquely gathered space—where everyone got it on a level you didn’t have to explain—we found parts of ourselves again.
From the moment we arrived, we were held. Not just by the incredible camp staff, but by two dedicated volunteers whose sole mission was to anticipate our needs and meet them with love. It was service in its purest, most graceful form. Deana and Molly will forever be a part of our crazy circus.
The Wade-Craig family with their volunteers Molly (left) and Deana (right)
It’s hard to let yourself be taken care of. To surrender the armor of independence, to silence the inner voice that feels guilty for needing help. But when you let go—really let go-your shoulders drop. Your breath deepens. And for the first time in a long time, peace creeps in. You feel the weight lift. You feel…unfurled.
I don’t know how to end this, because I don’t think it does end. The retreat may be over, but the experience continues to live and breathe in each of us. I still see it in my kiddos…their laughter, their openness, the softness that wasn’t there before.
The love and acceptance that was planted in North Carolina is still growing. It’s a gift that keeps unfolding, and for that, I will remain endlessly grateful.
Facebook
Twitter
Email
Print
