I decided against a post outlining the O’s fundraiser. I’m pretty sure within all the “I agree” checkboxes was some language about not disclosing any events which even remotely rivaled High Street in Columbus, Ohio, circa 1991. That, and a guy who looks exactly like Russell Brand is still out there somewhere swearing on his fake English accent that I am his Katy Perry.
Back to Lucky’s. I
had no idea how to fundraise initially.
Sure, I ask organizations for money all the time as part of my “real”
job, but that’s different. I ask only
after an entire sales process is exhausted and most of the time it takes way
longer than 10 weeks. So when Angela
brilliantly suggested I walk in off the streets to a Harley-Davidson dealership, it sounded reasonable enough to
me. I mean, what could possibly go
wrong?
Turns out nothing.
And do you want to know why? It
was meant to be. Right place, right
time, right everything. From a long-time
customer of mine who just “happened” to be there at the same time to the fact
that Scott just “happens” to be a fellow OSU alum who was thrilled to learn
that Greyson is also a huge Buckeye fan …it was not my doing.
This whole campaign is way bigger than me, or any of us for
that matter. I know, I know, don’t talk
about politics or religion at work and FOR SURE don’t do it on a blog! What are you thinking?! (Donate
now please, before you read on and
may change your mind. Thanks.)
(Ok, seriously. I’m asking today.) It took me a lot of years and a lot of hardships
to realize we are not in control of much of anything in this life. Yes, we have free will to make choices. Yes, each one of those choices has
consequences – both good and bad. But
when God wants something to happen for His
plan, it’s gonna happen, whether we want it to or not. (And no, you eye-rollers…there is no
“un-donate” button. Gheese.)
Anyway, this has been in the back of my mind since day one
and it was further solidified on Saturday.
Harley-Davidson’s 110th
year anniversary is this year. As part
of the fundraiser on Saturday, tickets were sold for two commemorative leather
jackets, and I was given the honor of drawing the winners. The huge container was filled to the brim
with little red tickets. I swirled them
around and around even though Scott already had, and pulled out the first
name: I don’t remember. It was a woman’s name! She was not present in the dealership, but
you didn’t need to be to win. Scott
called her faster than you could say Publisher’s Clearinghouse to tell her the
good news.
The next winner would be for the man’s jacket. And as luck would have it, I drew a man’s
name: Harold. He was standing
immediately on the other side of the counter and looked, I decided, either
shocked, embarrassed, or scared. He had
a small and gentle smile on his face, and a woman I figured to be his wife sort
of hugged him and started crying a little, while a guy to Harold’s right gave
him a congratulatory slug in the shoulder.
Aw…that’s nice, I thought. A guy
who clearly has never won a thing in his life.
Turns out his life is expected to be cut short 3-6 months
from now. Harold has terminal brain and
lung cancer. He’s early 30’s with twin 3
year-old daughters.
Pulling that ticket out of hundreds was not my doing. But I did know what I had to do after
learning why it meant so much to Harold to hear his name announced. I went over and made small talk with him,
using the jacket as an opening, until he
opened up. We shared our feelings and
fears about a cancer diagnosis. We
shared parenting stories. We shared
hope. We shared life.
Two total strangers that just “happened” to meet.
Please pray for Harold.
37 Days.
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