At PA Lions Beacon Lodge Camp, Project New Hope is a retreat program designed specifically for disabled veterans and their families. Across a weekend of adaptive activities, peer support circles, and family-centered programming, veterans and loved ones find a safe place to reconnect, heal, and discover strength together.
Chris, a 36-year-old Iraq War veteran and former infantryman, arrived at Project New Hope carrying both visible and invisible scars — a below-the-knee amputation, lingering PTSD, and the heavy weight of wondering how his family fit into life after service. What he found was a community that met him with honesty, respect, and understanding. His story shows how Project New Hope helps veterans and their families realize they don’t climb life’s challenges alone — someone’s always got their six.
Friday Evening: Arriving with Invisible Weight
Chris pulled into Beacon Lodge Camp feeling the familiar mix of anticipation and anxiety that came with new situations since his injury. The Iraq War veteran had lost his left leg below the knee three years ago, but the visible scar was often easier to navigate than the invisible ones – the PTSD, the phantom pain, the way crowds and sudden noises could still send him right back to that roadside outside Fallujah.
His wife Sarah and their two kids, Emma (8) and Jake (12), climbed out of the car with the cautious energy of a family that had learned to read Dad’s moods carefully. They’d all been through a lot together since Chris came home different than when he left.
“I kept thinking this was probably a mistake,” Chris admits. “I mean, what if I had a bad day? What if the kids saw me struggle with something? What if other families were dealing with stuff I couldn’t relate to?”
But as they approached the registration area, Chris noticed something immediately: other families were arriving with the same careful energy. And the staff greeting them weren’t wearing fake smiles or speaking in that overly cheerful tone he’d grown to hate at VA events.
“Welcome to Project New Hope,” said the program coordinator, making eye contact with both Chris and Sarah. “We’re glad you’re here. This weekend is yours to go at whatever pace feels right.”
That simple acknowledgment – that this family might need to go slow, might need space, might need understanding – set the tone for everything that followed.
Saturday Morning: Finding Solid Ground
Chris’s day started, as always, with his morning routine by the pond. Meditation and breathing exercises had become non-negotiable since his injury – not because some therapist told him to, but because he’d learned the hard way what happened when he skipped them.
What he didn’t expect was to find another veteran already there, quietly practicing yoga on a dock overlooking the water.
“Combat engineer, Afghanistan,” the other vet said simply, noticing Chris’s approach. “I’m Marcus. You?”
“Infantry, Iraq,” Chris replied, settling onto the dock with his prosthetic leg extended comfortably. “Chris.”
No thank-you-for-your-service pleasantries. No questions about his injury. Just two veterans sharing space and understanding that some mornings you need quiet water and deep breathing before you can face the day.
That connection – immediate, unspoken, authentic – became the foundation for everything else Chris experienced that weekend.
Saturday Afternoon: The Climbing Tower Challenge
When the adaptive outdoor activities were announced, Chris felt his old competitive instincts kick in. He’d been an athlete before deployment, and adaptive sports had become part of his physical and emotional recovery. But this wasn’t about his own challenge – it was about showing Emma and Jake that their dad was still the guy who could tackle anything.
The climbing tower at Beacon Lodge had been modified with multiple route options and adaptive equipment. Chris studied the wall, calculating holds and routes with the same tactical mind that had served him in combat.
“You thinking about trying it?” asked Jake, who had been watching his father with the careful attention of a kid who’d learned to gauge Dad’s energy levels.
“Maybe,” Chris said. “What do you think? Should your old man give it a shot?”
Emma, usually the more cautious of his children, surprised him: “Do it, Daddy. But if it hurts your leg, you can stop, okay?”
That permission – from his 8-year-old daughter – to try and potentially not succeed, felt like a gift he hadn’t known he needed.
Chris made it three-quarters of the way up the wall before his prosthetic began causing discomfort. A year ago, he would have pushed through the pain, angry at his body for limiting him. This time, he called down to his spotter: “I’m good here. Coming down.”
The celebration from his family – not for reaching the top, but for knowing his limits and honoring them – felt better than any summit he’d ever reached.
“We don’t climb alone,” Chris told his kids as he unhooked from the safety line. “Someone’s always got your six. And sometimes the smartest thing you can do is trust your team and know when to call it.”
Saturday Evening: Honest Conversations
That night’s family discussion time was facilitated by a counselor who specialized in military families. The topic was “challenges and strengths” – what has been hard since Dad came home, and what has made your family stronger.
Jake went first: “It’s hard when Dad has bad dreams and wakes everyone up. But it’s good that he always checks on us after.”
Emma added: “I don’t like when Daddy’s leg hurts and he gets grumpy. But I like that he teaches us to be brave even when things are scary.”
Sarah’s honesty cut to the heart of it: “It’s hard feeling like I have to protect everyone, including Chris. But I’ve learned how strong our family is when we actually talk about the hard stuff instead of pretending it’s not there.”
When it was Chris’s turn, he found words he’d been carrying for months: “I was afraid you guys would think less of me because I’m different now. But you’ve shown me that different doesn’t mean broken. And maybe our family is stronger because we’ve learned to take care of each other.”
Sunday Morning: Paying It Forward
Sunday’s activities included peer support circles – small groups where veterans could talk without family members present. Chris found himself in a circle with five other vets, ranging from a 22-year-old recent discharge to a Vietnam veteran in his 70s.
When the conversation turned to family challenges, Chris shared something he’d never said out loud: “I spent so much time trying to be the same dad I was before deployment that I forgot my kids might actually like some of the ways I’ve changed. They’ve learned to be more aware of other people’s feelings. They’re more resilient. They’re not afraid to talk about hard things.”
A younger veteran across the circle looked up: “You think our kids can handle knowing we struggle?”
“I think they’re already handling it,” Chris replied. “The question is whether we’re going to help them understand it or leave them to figure it out alone.”
By the end of the session, Chris realized he’d naturally slipped into a mentoring role – not because he had all the answers, but because he’d learned to ask better questions and sit with difficult truths.
Sunday Departure: Carrying It Forward
As the weekend concluded, Chris’s family participated in a closing circle where families shared one thing they were taking home.
Emma said she learned that families can be strong even when someone has hard days. Jake said he learned that being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. Sarah said she learned that taking care of everyone included taking care of herself.
Chris’s contribution: “I learned that healing isn’t about going back to who I was before. It’s about becoming who I’m supposed to be now, with my family as my team.”
Six months later, Chris has become a regular volunteer at Project New Hope weekends, helping facilitate peer support groups and adaptive activities. His family attends as often as they can, not because they need to anymore, but because they want to be part of helping other families find their way.
“Project New Hope didn’t fix our problems,” Chris reflects. “It gave us better tools for handling them together. And it reminded me that service doesn’t end when you come home – it just looks different.”
What Project New Hope Offers
Chris’s story illustrates the comprehensive approach that makes Project New Hope unique:
- Family-centered healing that includes everyone affected by military service
- Peer support between veterans of different eras and experiences
- Adaptive activities that challenge without re-traumatizing
- Professional facilitation by counselors who understand military culture
- Safe spaces for honest conversations about struggle and strength
- Ongoing community that extends beyond the weekend experience
Project New Hope serves Pennsylvania disabled veterans and their families through quarterly weekend retreats at no cost. The program maintains a 1:2 staff-to-family ratio and includes mental health professionals, adaptive recreation specialists, and peer support facilitators.
Chris’s Message to Military Families
“You don’t have to have it all figured out to come to Project New Hope,” Chris says. “You just have to be willing to be honest about where you are and open to the possibility that your family’s story isn’t finished yet.”
His advice for families hesitating about attending? “Military families are experts at adapting and overcoming. Project New Hope just gives you a safe place to practice those skills together, with people who understand the terrain you’re navigating.”
Want to learn more about Project New Hope or other Beacon Lodge programs?
Contact us at office@beaconlodge.org or call (814) 542-2511.
Chris’s story represents the kind of family healing that happens when veterans and their loved ones have space to be authentic together.
Curious about Chris? Meet Chris here.
Chris’s story is shared with permission and represents a composite of experiences from Project New Hope participants over the years. Names and identifying details have been changed to protect privacy while honoring the authentic experiences of our military community.