Jake Hoffner was 10 years old the first time he went to Camp Encourage in Kansas City, Missouri, more than 200 miles away from his home near St. Louis.

His mother, Tracey Gibson, was scared he would hate it. Jake had never even had a play date before. He had never been part of a team. He had never made a friend.

Jake has Asperger's syndrome, a condition on the autism spectrum. Camp Encourage is a three-night, four-day camp for children on the spectrum.

"I wanted him to experience camp," Tracey said. "I wanted to see if he could make friends."

Around this time of year, many parents start planning the summer for their children. The most desired camps and activities fill up fast, so the race begins in the winter or early spring. For the parents of kids with special needs, making summer plans can be even more of a challenge.

But thanks to an increasing number of specialized camps, summer can be a chance for these kids to fit in with a group in a way they can't the rest of the year.

During the school year, children with special needs -- whether social, physical or emotional -- are often "mainstreamed" into classrooms with typically functioning kids. The same thing happens in the summer: Many camps find ways to accommodate children with special needs and integrate them with other campers. But there is a growing demand for camps that cater to very specific populations.

Beyond camps for children with physical disabilities, developmental delays or learning disabilities, there are camps for burn victims, bereavement camps for those who are grieving, and camps for children with serious or chronic illnesses such as cancer or asthma.

For some of these kids, these specialized summer experiences help them grow in ways that neurotypical children may take for granted.

Jake, now 15, will be attending Camp Encourage for the sixth summer this year. He wrote a letter about how much those days mean to him.

"Camp Encourage is a very important part in my life. This is because every time I come, I know I'll meet old friends. And come back with new ones."

When his mother read this line aloud, she started crying.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't usually hear him talk this way."

Kelly Lee, executive director at Camp Encourage, says the camp, which costs $1,200 for a four-day session, offers scholarships to several of the students who attend. For families who may also be paying for therapies during the school year, additional expenses can put these opportunities out of reach.

"Every year we have a waiting list," Lee said. "Our focus is on meeting needs -- knowing how important tiny details can be to this population, and tailoring to those needs."

The benefits that attract parents to these kinds of camps include a specially trained staff, which has experience dealing with the population they will be serving; the opportunity to get additional services, enrichment or therapy in a camp setting; and the chance for the child to be surrounded by peers who share some of the same challenges.

Some of the kids deal with stares or questions during the school year, like burn victims who have to explain the scars that cover their bodies. Others don't get invited to birthday parties, or face bullying at school.

Jake captured that in his letter, when he wrote that the camp "lets in the kids that either have trouble making friends or the kids who don't realize how cool they are." Meanwhile, "the kids who may have bullied them, tormented them or just ignored them are left out."

His mother said the drive to Kansas City each summer is worth it for those few days.

"He lights up," she said.

John Garvilla recognized his daughter's natural athletic talent when she was 5 years old.

Garvilla, who lives in the St. Louis area, is a former college soccer coach and athletic director, so he spotted her abilities early. She was fast, coordinated and loved playing ball.

Samantha Garvilla, now 18, started playing soccer and basketball competitively when she was 8 or 9. She excelled at both, and her father could see her playing as a high-level athlete in the future.

She was 11 when she tore her right ACL. Her father told her she had to choose between basketball and soccer; there was no way she could play both, having suffered this injury. He even tried to push her toward golf.

"I have an artificial knee," he said. "I didn't want my daughter to walk like me."

Samantha chose soccer, and played year-round. She trained hard and stood out on the field.

She was 12 when she tore her ACL again.

After the rehab, she was undeterred. She refused to quit the sport she loved.

During her freshman year of high school, she was recruited by Darlington School in Rome, Georgia, to attend the boarding school on a soccer scholarship. She was training four to six hours a day at school, and she loved it.

"It was the best thing that ever happened to me," she said.

The team was getting ready for regionals the beginning of her sophomore year. She was playing in a scrimmage when she went in hard for a tackle.

"Right away, I knew what it was," she said. "By the third one, you know."

It was the ACL in her left knee this time. The surgeon told her that there was no way she could go back onto the field.

"Your knees are not going to hold up," he told her. "You're not going to last." It wasn't just the three torn ACLs: She has also suffered 12 meniscus tears and undergone 10 surgeries.

She came back to St. Louis to finish her sophomore year. She was devastated to leave Darlington, but still refused to leave the game entirely.

The beginning of her junior year, she decided she wanted to play goalie, a position less prone to the injuries she's had. In a young athlete's career, this was a late time to switch positions, but she told her parents she was committed to playing.

"There are certain things you can't teach," her father said. "Speed, height, athleticism. She has a teachable spirit. She loves the game."

He made sure she had access to the best trainers in the country. She didn't have the experience playing goalkeeper in as many games as her peers, but she was fearless. Her family started getting contacts from Division 2 colleges. They sent her highlight reel to more places, and then the offers from Division 1 schools started coming in.

"What a lot of people saw was raw talent," John said.

They took their daughter to visit some of the colleges around the country that were recruiting her. They were still considering the offers when Samantha asked her father to take her to the doctor.

She had bruised her back in practice, and her entire abdomen was hurting. The doctor asked if she had been feeling bloated, and she said she had.

She wasn't injured, the doctor explained after she ran a test.

Samantha was pregnant.

She called her mother, Kim, hysterical. Kim picked her up, and they walked out the back door while the doctor broke the news to John.

When she saw her father, she broke down and said, "Daddy, people are going to point at me and say, 'That's the girl who ruined her life.'"

John told her that people may point, but that God had a plan for her.

"You're going to get through this," he said. "We're going to count this baby as a blessing."

Kim said she went through all the stages of grief about the loss of what her daughter's future could have been. She suggested considering adoption, but Samantha said she wanted to keep the baby.

Her parents are still raising a 15-year-old and two 13-year-old sons, so they told her this child would be her responsibility, although they would support her and help her as much as they could.

Samantha cried a lot. She told her boyfriend, who was shocked but supportive. She couldn't accept the idea of giving up her baby.

"I had the ability to raise him. I have the support of my family. There was no reason (to give him up), except it would have been easier for me," she said.

She delivered her son, Braxton, on Feb. 11.

Shortly after the delivery, Samantha told her mother that it was good that the baby came a few days early: This way, she'd have six weeks off and be back in time for practices by spring break. She would be ready to play when the season starts in her senior year.

After graduating, she will play soccer on a scholarship at St. Charles Community College. She plans to use her financial aid to pay for daycare.

"The dream has never wavered," Kim said.

Humans crave touch from the moment we are born.

Studies have shown that touch is important to infants' development, and as we grow up, that impulse to connect never goes away. We instinctively know how to grab on to and hold another person for comfort or to express affection.

But while most hugs are nice, some are better for us than others.

The majority of hugs last about three seconds, numerous studies have found. And more than a decade ago, researchers at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill reported the benefits of the prolonged hug: one that lasts 20 seconds. This type of contact boosts levels of oxytocin -- also known as the "love drug" or "bonding hormone" -- as well as serotonin, the biochemical that helps stabilize mood.

Oxytocin is released at that point where trust meets touch. There's a surge in our bodies when a mother breastfeeds her baby, or during an orgasm, or even during an extended, 20-second hug.

It is a powerful hormone that bonds us to the people who provoke that oxytocin release.

Nick Ortner recently published a children's book called "The Big Book of Hugs: A Barkley the Bear Story," which teaches children and parents about the power of hugs.

"We've become very head-centric," Ortner said. "We try to think our way out of everything, to mentally process it, and we've ignored that we have a body."

Ortner listed the overwhelming benefits of frequently hugging your kids: Long hugs help children feel loved and safe. They build trust and closeness between the parent and child. They improve pulmonary and immune system functions and sleep patterns. They strengthen digestive, circulatory and gastrointestinal systems. Hugs lower anxiety and stress, and lessen feelings of loneliness, isolation and anger.

They teach us how to give and receive.

Since his daughter June was born more than eight months ago, Ortner's been practicing what he preaches.

"We hug the baby all the time," he said.

He acknowledges that this dynamic will change as his child grows up, and that the concept of personal space differs from culture to culture. Americans tend to prefer a large zone of space around them.

Even so, knowing the benefits, I decided to implement this "prolonged hug" agenda at home. First, I approached my youngest, who is 10 -- an age when hugs are still willingly given and accepted. I told him I needed to hug him for 20 seconds, wrapped my arms around him and started the stopwatch on my phone.

After a few seconds, he said, "Why is this so long?"

I assured him it would be over soon, and afterwards, I asked how he felt.

"Well, relaxed, sorta."

Anything else?

"Smiley. That's pretty much all."

Those reactions seemed pretty consistent with the research.

I moved on to the teenager. I am not allowed so much as a smile in her direction in public, so this hug had to occur far away from any potential embarrassment. Still, she agreed to accept my longer-than-usual hug.

"How do you feel now?" I asked.

"Protected, I guess," she said. (That made me want to hug her far more often.)

My last hug recipient required some upfront clarification.

"I need to hug you for 20 seconds," I said to my spouse. "But don't get the wrong idea. It's for a column."

He was still amenable to the idea. We were watching television on the couch, so I had to lean into this hug. After my timer hit 20 seconds, I asked for feedback.

"It was relaxing at first," he said. "But then you were crushing me, and I couldn't really breathe, but I thought I shouldn't tell you at the time."

But hugs are always relaxing, he quickly added.

A close call.

It called for a closer embrace.