About us

from our founder – Where we began

I was diagnosed with cancer during my last week of the sixth grade. At that age you still think you’re immortal, and I had record perfect attendance, having never been sick – so I thought cancer would be a “different” life experience to float through a bit. I glibly bargained with God that I wouldn’t mind getting any type of sick as long as I kept my hair. I reneged on that deal the day after my 12th birthday when I actually started chemo – a drug that we now know is my only allergy.

My life path was diverting from that of my peers with every side comment and day’s absence. In retrospect, I think most middle schoolers feel like they’re on their own island – my differences were just more front and center than others. I had wonderful friends but they couldn’t relate. That fall I went on a weekend retreat for teens with cancer at Camp Sunshine. It was a release to be able to talk openly without having to explain hospital talk or listen to someone compare your experience with last year’s stomach bug. I went to the fall/spring weekend retreats and summer teen weeks for a couple of years – until all my own cabin mates passed away and I was reassigned to a group that had been sick as babies and I was back at a disconnect.

In the spring of 8th grade, I was invited to an all-expense-paid week of skiing in Aspen, CO, with the Sunshine Kids. This week was exclusively for teens who had had cancer as teens, and we bonded over the true VIP treatment while commiserating over geometry homework. I got back to Georgia determined to recreate (or just relive) everything about it. I precociously wrote the SSK (still hoping I didn’t mail this) that “junior” counselors would be helpful because peers know how to host and include each other. I priced out cruises and pitched group sales for donations, and I met with the Children’s Wish Foundation (who had granted my own wish) to ask for their support. I reached out to the Aspen alumni to gauge interest in a reunion. I dropped this effort when I called one ski-trip friend, and his mom answered to inform me he had passed away a few months prior. She was gracious and mailed me his memorial card, but I abandoned direct outreach.

By 10th grade, I decided to just create my own new VIP experience rather than building off the one that had already existed. I had also always wanted to earn my Girl Scout Gold Award (the GS version of the Eagle Scout), so I decided to make my retreat under the GS umbrella. Thus Troop 563 was born – comprised of me and my troop leader mom. As I wrapped up the prerequisites to getting started on my actual project (my retreat for teens with cancer across the Southeast), my cancer came back in my lung. I entered a much more intense 13 months of surgeries, chemo, and radiation.

I finished my treatments at the end of January 2002 and was polishing off my retreat planning. I envisioned what I’d want to do with all my friends if we had a full weekend to do whatever we wanted – and in the most VIP style. I named it “Red Carpet Day” because I wanted our guests to feel like the red carpet was rolled out for them every moment they were with us.

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Six Flags Over Georgia jumped on as our first sponsor. That April, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution ran an article about the project, and within a week, readership had flooded my mailbox with donations – from a $5 bill a 10-year-old gave from his allowance (his mom matched) to a $10,000 check from an anonymous law partner. One woman organized a tennis tournament to raise money, and one man laminated the article so I could have a keepsake. All in all, Atlantans donated about $60,000 and about 400 different stories of compassion and belief in our newly uncertain post-9/11 world. The Children’s Wish Foundation sponsored, and CURE Childhood Cancer stepped in as an umbrella.

In May, I went back to the friends and classmates that had shared tokens of support or showed simple, unfiltered friendship while I had been sick. I asked them to help me host this weekend I was planning for teens with cancer. Their sole purpose was to make sure the guests were comfortable and having fun. The adults involved told me later that they thought this was just an excuse to bring my friends to the party – until they heard the feedback.

RCD Atlanta 2002 consisted of a private Mark Wills concert, with opener Lucky, and cookout, VIP access at Six Flags, limousines everywhere, lots of gifts, and the magic unstructured time that led to made up games and “how much gum can we eat” contests late into the nights. Thirty-six new friends from GA, NC, SC, and TN came to the event. I thought I was planning a weekend escape. They told me it was more.

One guest from TN had never left the state until she had cancer. It was her first time in a hotel, a limousine, to a theme park, to Georgia. I couldn’t believe her only “unique” life experiences until RCD centered directly on cancer. Secondly, much of the guest feedback reflected gratitude in the chance to feel “normal.” I had been shooting for “special,” but the value of feeling normal – without walls – jarred me. Finally, and adding to that piece, the adults who questioned the teens hosting, doubled back – noticing that when the hosts and guests interacted, it was hard to tell who was “healthy” or “sick.” Instead of having more babysitters or schedule keepers, our guests got to just relax with friends. We filled a new niche, and I couldn’t imagine ever leaving that hole unfilled again.

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CURE kept RCD as its own program for three years, and they allowed me the freedom to plan and executed however I wanted. My friends continued hosting and molding the event with their own beautiful, impressive fingerprints, and we started passing our hosting to our siblings and their friends. Over Christmas break of my freshman year of college, my cancer came back in my lung. I dropped completely out of school to manage the daily treatments. I lost 30-40 pounds. And I couldn’t imagine a world where my cancer didn’t keep coming back. I poured what energy I did have into making RCD 2004 the best I could imagine – from writing guests to formally training the hosts to planning for every detail. After the event, I turned to creating a company that could stand without me and grow beyond Georgia. On July 15, 2004, Heart of Passion was born – named for the fire I felt for the work and the vision for the program to be a national platform for people to pursue their passion in aid of others.

serving teens for over 20 years.

Our “for teens, from teens” programming model has allowed Heart of Passion to connect teens living with cancer to each other to form an emotional support structure in an environment that only teens themselves could create.

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cities

red carpet days

teen leaders

guests served

our mission

tear down walls

that cancer builds emotionally and socially for teens.

provide a spark

of VIP treatment during key life phases.

pave the way

for a future of socially minded, personally responsible community and business leaders.

our programming

Through our young adult Leadership Development Program (LDP), we mold the new generation of leaders with character, confidence, conviction, and compassion. Graduates learn business fundamentals and confidence through obstacles, and they go on to compassionately apply these lessons in a variety of fields (missions, medicine, teaching, to name a few).

Through our Red Carpet Day Retreats, we provide positive unique experiences for teens with cancer to anticipate, enjoy, and make memories to share – positive memories to help balance out the negative uniqueness that cancer brings to their everyday lives.

HoP seeks to inspire everyone we meet to strive for their own potential, to embrace the tiny moments that make up life, and to live confidently and compassionately, improving the world in their own way.

We are proud to be members of the Children’s Oncology Camp Association-International and to be a KOA Care Camp!