Merry Christmas, Everyone!
Our family is not religious, we are of the secular Christmas card-sending/Nutcracker Ballet-attending/gift-exchanging/reveling in the joy of the season lot. Santa will not be shimmying down our chimney tonight, and I miss that magic we shared with our children over the previous thirteen years.
I have been positively gleeful this December. That is not hyperbole. I am late in my preparations, but a smile–sometimes broad and hearty, others sheepish as if to say, “Holy schnikes, I have a crap-ton to do. I’ll get there, I always do!”–has been a fixture this fa la la la la la la la la.
I received a gift yesterday. This gift came in the form of a check and explanatory letter. When you see shades of doubt slivering through the fabric of your faith in human decency, remember my friend and the story I’m sharing here. My friend is an intensely private person, so a few edits were made in order to respect that. I will never betray the trust she’s put in me over the years.
When I was growing up, my family always watched the Jerry Lewis Telethon on Labor Day weekend (confession-not really because of muscular dystrophy, but because there were only three or four channels to watch). We tuned in to check out various performers and entertainment and made sure we watched the end of the show to see how tired Jerry looked after staying up all night. We thought it was really cool and crazy that he didn’t go to bed all night long. We watched him sing at the end of the show on Labor Day evening as every year they showed record breaking dollars donated. Jerry always got emotional and cried while singing his closing song and he looked all disheveled with bags under his eyes, shirt untucked, hair a mess–we loved to make fun of him in our immature kid-style way.
One year, we decided to help raise some money for MD. We took our red wagon and went knocking on doors in the neighborhood asking people if they had empty pop bottles that they could give us to return to the store for the deposit refund to raise money for MD. When our wagon was full, we pulled it home and transferred the bottles to the back of the station wagon and went out to more neighbors. When the station wagon was full, mom or dad drove us to the grocery store where we cashed in the bottles then we would go back home and repeat. At the end of the day, we donated our daily profits to MDA. We did this for years and I think of it fondly every Labor Day weekend.
I now also think of you and your family on Labor Day.
I have not donated to MDA since I stopped collecting pop bottles. Jerry Lewis inspired such a fun family activity and obviously brought great awareness to MD. With Jerry Lewis’ passing this year, I thought it was a good time to make a donation.
Please help my check find its way to make the donation.
I admire how you handle all in your life and can only imagine how difficult some days must be. Your son is very lucky to have you for his mom.
I’m not crying, YOU’RE crying! Of course I’m crying. I read parts of her letter at least three times before I was able to finish because my eyeliner was running by the second paragraph. What’s the right word for how my friend’s kindness affected me? Touched? Moved?? Ugly cried???
My niece Lauren, who after my son’s diagnosis became an MDA Summer Camp counselor, has now committed to the MDA’s Team Momentum for 2018. She will be running a marathon to raise funds, awareness, and hope for individuals and families with muscle disease. Half my friend’s donation will go to support Lauren’s marathon endeavor. Click here to read about an amazing example of today’s youth. Team Greater Than Gravity strolls in its fourth annual Muscle Walk this spring, so the other half will be the donation that kickstarts our 2018 Muscle Walk team effort. Donations made to the MDA before December 31 will be doubled, up to $100,000. That’s a lotta marshmallows toasted around the campfire, friends.
My Christmas wish for you all? That you have the good fortune to be surrounded by goodness, light, and love. I’ve never known a time where I didn’t find myself among good friends. Because of my son’s diagnosis, I’ve borne witness to good friends doing great things. Still not grateful exactly for MD, no, but for the goodness and light it has illuminated in others? That is my gift.
It’s Christmas Eve and it’s snowing. And that is the lesser of today’s miracles. Thank you.