Kickball, Charity, and Why I Do What I Do

I just got home from AZ Victory, our Monday night kickball league that we play at Victory Lane in Glendale, where we hosted another successful Mid-Season Party.  For those of you who don't know, one of my favorite things about playing WAKA Kickball is the emphasis on charity fundraising efforts that each league shows season after season.  Most notably, the AZ players granted a Wish through Make-a-Wish last year, and as the chair of that endeavor, I have to say- it. felt. amazing.  Kinda reminds me of that episode of Friends (The One Where Phoebe Hates PBS, and no, I didn't have to look that up) where Joey tries to convince Phoebe that there is no such thing as a selfless good deed.  His argument is that since it makes you feel good to help others, it's selfish.  It's an interesting argument, and one that I won't refute.  I know there's some Bible verse about not bragging when you do good deeds, but I can't remember what book or anything.  (Note- how weird is it that I can tell you the episode name of the Friends reference, but can't remember the Bible verse?  Hmmm- if this blog is left unfinished, it's because I've been smote down by the Big Guy).  Anyway, I sometimes hold back when I think about posting about charity efforts that I'm involved in, but my argument in favor of broadcasting is that my mention on Facebook about an event or online campaign that I'm working or attending may encourage someone else to help out.  I hope it comes across that way, and not in the braggy way, because honestly, I really feel like I don't do enough.

Which brings me to the core of this blog, although I may veer around from time to time still.  I had two very different, yet equally important conversations at the fields tonight.  The first was with a woman who was checking out our progress for the fundraising of the night, and wanted to know if I know the family personally for whom we are raising money this season.  I said that I did, but that I'd still be as committed, were they strangers.  She then shared that her daughter is in remission from cancer, and how much it meant to her when people helped them out through tough times during their whole ordeal.  We chatted about Make-a-Wish (her daughter was granted a Wish to meet Bon Jovi) and I shared a little bit about Asher and Sarah, and how losing Sarah in high school, and seeing how it affected Asher at that age, really shaped my whole life, and how gosh- it sucks that it takes a tragedy sometimes to wake us up to what's important.  It was one of those conversations that could go on for hours- her sharing what those years had been like when her daughter was sick, and how it makes her time with her 3 youngest kids so much different.  Me, sharing what it was like to lose someone I loved at a young age, still reeling from the loss of another loved one, then finally putting those loses into positive energy to live my life in a new way (taking a sad song and making it better, if you will).  

That conversation was followed shortly thereafter by a player who also was curious about the details of our charity efforts this season.  I shared that a little girl named Kelsea is in desperate need of a new liver, this after battling Cystic Fybrosis since she was a baby.  Did I know this girl, he asked?  I haven't met her personally, I said, but new her sister from high school.  He kept asking more questions about the situation, wanting to know if I was close with her sister, or felt indebted to her somehow.  I answered that even though we weren't what I'd call close in high school, she was always someone who I never had one negative feeling towards, something I can barely say about even some of my closest friends, as little tiffs are bound to pop up here and there.  I said that I believed that she is one of those really good people, and based on that, and her request for help on Facebook for her family, I felt her cause was worthy, as it seemed to be what he was getting at.  Then he got to his point- there are kids, and adults for that matter, dying and struggling all around the world.  Why her?  What makes this little girl special?  Then, the big one- why even bother to help when there will always be another voice asking for help?  Another conversation that could have lasted hours, but that I was able to shorten with "find me on Facebook- you've just inspired me to blog."

Most people who've known me long enough know that I used to wear a starfish necklace every day.  Every day.  I took it off on my wedding day to wear a necklace that my mother let me borrow, but that was the only day I remember taking it off for an extended period of time until the day I gave birth to Anna, and Mark surprised me with a necklace with a letter with an A on it.  I bought my starfish necklace for myself shortly after my Aunt Kathy died.  I was 19 when she took her own life (I still very rarely can use the S word), and it broke me.  It absolutely shattered my world.  I pushed away everyone except those who clung on really hard, and even some of those people eventually caved and gave me my space.  Those were my dark days, and how I recovered from them is another story in itself, but it's a good one that I may share one of these days (spoiler alert- it involves family, Kim, Berly, a capella music, Jesus and water).  Back to the starfish.  When Kathy died, I went through all of the stages of grief, but held onto anger/blame the most.  And who did I blame?  Myself.  Is this ridiculous?  Yes.  Did I know that at the time?  Obviously not.  I felt that if only I had paid better attention, I could have been the one that saved Kathy from herself.  But I was 19, and as 19-year-olds are wont to do, I was focusing on myself.  With that self-deprecating thought rolling around in my head 24-7, a story that I had once heard came to mind.  And here it is (this is from memory, and not cited, as I have no idea who wrote it):

One day, a man was walking down the beach and came upon an old man.  Scattered around the old man's feet were hundreds of starfish that had been washed ashore.  The old man was picking up starfish one at a time, and gently tossing them back into the water.  The young man approached him and said, "why are you doing this?  You can't save them all.  What difference does it make?"  The old man looked at him thoughtfully, stooped down to pick up another, tossed it into the sea and replied, "it made a difference to that one."

Thus, I wore my starfish as a constant reminder to reach out to every person that I could encounter with kindness, compassion, empathy, and even just a smile, as you never know when that person could need it the most.  I used to daydream (totally weird, I know) about meeting someone who was on their way to kill themselves, but that it was my kind word and smile that made them change their mind.  I told myself that if I could save one person, it would be enough to cancel out my debt for letting Kathy go.  

I may not take it to that extreme anymore, although I do try to be a positive influence on everyone that I can.  I no longer think that I am the reason my Kathy did what she did.  However, I do know that every little thing that we do for other people can make a difference, even if it's just to that person.  That's why I do what I do, folks.  

I don't feel like looking up specifics, but I'm pretty sure it was Mother Theresa who said "We cannot do great things, but can only do small things with great love."  I know it was Lennon/McCartney who wrote the words, "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."  So, guy I had a conversation with tonight, that's my answer.  I'm not so cocky as to think I can save the world by myself.  And, no matter how much I raise to help Kelsea, it might only make a small dent in her family's efforts to pay for everything.  But, we really can't think that way, can we?  Can the world be so cynical as to say that since we can't fix everything, we should just fix nothing?  Not on my watch.