I take tragic events personally. I think it's my coping strategy. I put myself in the place of the ones closest to the tragedy and I weep. I feel sad. I feel powerless. I grieve for their loss. Later, I turn it into perspective on my own life. I feel overwhelmingly thankful for good health, food in the refrigerator, and lights that turn on.
Pregnant with my son at the time, 9/11 taught me there's no guarantee that my husband will come home from work safe. It blew my mind. It was unimaginable. Ever since that horrifying day, I'm truly thankful when he walks in the door every night. It's a gift. Every time.
And ever since that day, I've known that my world could change overnight. That I could wake up one morning and everything I thought I knew about the world would be different. So at 5am on a Friday when my husband said "8.9 in Japan." I just knew my world, and my outlook on it, would change again. To see that tsunami, the force of it, made me feel powerless. Again, I felt sad. Like watching the skyscrapers collapse, an unstoppable force was changing the landscape and the lives of so many people. Like a boulder dropped in a pond, the ripples are rough. They reverberate. I'm still feeling the sadness wash over me in unexpected moments.
Those tragedies are far away, in time and distance, from my life in Orange County. Here at home -- I have a sweet husband, a super-smart 3rd grade boy, and a full-of-life blond-haired Kindergarten girl. Today, I'm sad because another full-of-life blond-haired Kindergarten girl died from an inoperable brain tumor last week. I didn't know Maddie James (read her story), but I felt an instant connection to her and her family. I have a feeling she was just like my daughter. Again, her story inspired all the same feelings of grief, sadness, powerlessness, and disbelief. And now, thankfulness. I'm thankful that her parents shared her story and gave us all perspective about what's important in life: love and hope. I'm thankful every time my daughter laughs, smiles, and hugs me. Every time. I know it will be that way forever. Maddie's story changed me and my world.
I joined the Team Tiny Oranges for the Pediatric Cancer Research Foundation race back in 2010. My two thoughts when Jen from Tiny Oranges asked me to join: 1) I hate running, but I hate cancer more and 2) How can I say "no?" So, I will be walking the 5K on May 1st.
Did you know only 10% of the money budgeted by the National Cancer Institute is directed to pediatric cancer research? It’s not enough, not even close. The Pediatric Cancer Research Foundation (PCRF) is a grass-roots organization focused on efforts to improve the care, quality of life and survival rate of children with malignant diseases. Every year, the PCRF holds a run/walk event to raise money for pediatric cancer research.
Please help by donating - even $1 or $5 or $10 makes a difference! CLICK HERE! My goal is $300 (I'd like to beat that!) and I'm almost halfway there. I'm betting you hate cancer as much as I do and that you can't say "no" either.
Consider donating to the Maddie James Foundation raising money for the Maddie James Seaside Learning Center at the Ocean Institute in Dana Point.
Potential advertisers! Between now and April 30th only: I have 3 advertising buttons open under my sponsors list. If you or your company donates $50 to my PCRF page and $50 to the Maddie James Foundation, I will post your sponsor button and link for 4 months. It's almost summer, so now is the perfect time. Before making any donations, you MUST e-mail me (OCPlayParks at gmail.com) to get approval and receive instructions.
