A Stage, A Mother and A Story & #iPPP

I've been talking a lot about motherhood and stages lately (LTYM).  Last Friday night, I went to an event to raise money for a charity close to my heart.  And at that event, my friend got on stage and blew me and everyone in the room away.

I've written about the event before (here and here), it was a benefit for the nonprofit Charlotte's Wings, an organization that donates books to hospitals and hospices in Michigan.  The event started as a pretty small fundraiser on the patio of a bar.  It has grown to be THE event of the season for a lot of folks.  The ballroom of the fanciest hotel in town fills with 600 people decked out and ready to spend major money at the silent auction.  Since I don't have major money, my role is to get the dance floor going--a job I am more than happy to take on.

I'm sure nobody bidding at the silent auction tables looked at me strangely for posing like this for Tim to take the picture of my dress. 

The day before the fancy gala, I went dress shopping and found a dress that I felt was sophisticated yet let me move on the dance floor.

There was a step and repeat, which was awesome.
There was champagne and a line for the cash bar.
There was a great band.
There were so many fancy people and pretty dresses.
There were so many items to bid on like signed jerseys, birthday parties, massages and more.

And there was a stage, and there was a mother.

This whole evening existed because of one mother who lost her little girl to a rare disease.  The mother is my friend Jo.  Her daughter was Charlotte.  After Charlotte passed away, Jo and her husband donated books in her honor to a hospital.  Jo and her friend Jen then decided to start a nonprofit and give more books to more hospitals.  They are up to over 30,000 books.

I knew the story well, I 've been friends with Jo for years.  But last Friday night when Jo got on that stage to tell the story of Charlotte and the books that brought her family comfort in the final days of Charlotte's illness, there was something different.  Jo was more emotional than I'd seen her maybe ever.  She was still this strong, composed woman but there was something different.  She seemed more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her and yet braver at the same time.  She told the crowd of 600 well-dressed party goers how she wasn't sure if her daughter heard her reading to her, but it brought comfort to a mother being able to read to her child.

Tears and a standing ovation followed.
Then it was back to partying and dancing and lining up at the cash bar.  Back to the party, back to life.  But everything felt different.  There was more purpose to the auction bidding.  There was more appreciation for life and loved ones.  There was more admiration for one mother's strength and courage and grace.

Here's a video I made that was shown at the event.

Charlotte's Wings 2014 from Jumping With My Fingers Crossed on Vimeo.

To find out more about Charlotte's Wings, click here.

This post is part of the #iPPP link up. 

Now it's your turn to link up a post for the #iPPP.

Angela Amman (my LTYM co-producer and #iPPP co-hoster and amazing, wonderful friend) and I want to see your funny, heartfelt, favorite phone photos from the week!  Your post can be about anything, as long as it contains one picture from your phone.  Link up below and don't forget to visit some of the others!

<img src=”http://mamamash.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/ippp-polaroid-125-x-125.jpg” alt=”GFunkified” style=”border:none;” />

Getting On With It

I've always been interested in stories.  I wrote stories as a kid and stapled them together for my mom and dad.  The story problems in math always intrigued me..."You have two cups of milk.  To make a  a dozen cookies you need a half a cup of milk.  How many total cookies could you make with the two cups of milk?"  I did not care about the answer or really anything to do with numbers.  I wanted to know what kind of cookies?  Who was making them?  And why?  Was it a birthday treat or a special after school snack?  I would get so lost trying to figure out the whole story, I hardly ever got the number correct.

I love stories.  I get lost in stories.  Sometimes I get found too.

My love of storytelling was one of the reasons I started my blog. It is also a reason I wanted to get involved with Listen To Your Mother.  The more I write, the more I learn, the more I listen--my passion for and devotion to storytelling is not only growing, it's exploding.  The more open and honest I am with telling stories, the more open I am to hearing them.

I am paying attention more to all the stories around me.  And they are everywhere.  

The past few months I've kept a story to myself.  The story of my second miscarriage. There are a bunch of reasons I chose not to write about it or tell anyone (our kids don't know).  Mostly because I didn't know what to write or feel.  Partly because I needed to keep moving and hopefully move on, from both miscarriages.  

It's been a few months and I feel different.  I feel stronger.  I feel at peace.  I feel ready to get on with it.  Part of getting on with it for me is telling the story.  

So, here it is, the story about how stories helped me during my second miscarriage.  It was featured on mamalode.com.  Click here to read the story.

The Pulse of Compassion- "Give A Minute, Help Make-A-Wish"

Standing in line at the store, I heard a beeping noise.  Beep.  Beep. Beep. My pulse started racing and my eyes filled with tears.  It was the same sound we had heard in the hospital.  Haunting me.  Reminding me of loss and sadness.  The anxious feeling only lasted around 10 seconds and then I went back to shopping.  I pushed my cart forward and my anxiety deep inside and carried on.

                           ******

Beep, beep, beep....over and over.  It was quiet, but it was there beeping like the ticking of a clock or some ominous sound from a dark and twisty Edgar Allen Poe poem.  Beep, beep, beep.  It was coming from machines keeping people alive, machines checking the blood pressure and heart rate and IV fluids and everything else that needs checking.  

We waited for the doctor while the beeping beeped.  While we waited for confirmation that my pregnancy was over, we felt powerless.  We didn't talk much.  We held hands.  We held onto what was good and true and full of love.  We held onto each other.

Our bond grew deeper and so did our compassion for people that have to feel these feelings of fear and worry for their family.  Parents of chronically ill children who sit and listen to the beeping while holding onto hope that their children will get better. Having to parent through their heartache.

Beep. Beep. Beep.  A haunting reminder of a reality that doesn't make sense.

Last week, we were in the hospital again for Lucy's punctured finger (a nasty splinter that needed a doctor's attention).  She asked about the beeping machines.  She asked about all the machines and screens and charts and tubes in the room.

While we waited for the doctor, feeling powerless, I held her hand.  I held onto what was good and true and full of hope and love.  

Once again, my heart grew with compassion for any child that has to face illness and fear and uncertainty.

Beep. Beep. Beep. A constant reminder of being afraid.

                           *****

I don't want to be haunted by the beeping forever.  I don't want to relive that feeling of powerlessness.  I want to remember my feelings of empathy and love for families and children who are sick and hurting.  I want to do something...I want the beeping to represent a reminder of love. A pulse of compassion.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I want to hold onto each other.  And I can, and you can, we all can.  

There are so many ways to make a difference.  Volunteer at a hospital or nursing home, donate to a charity that helps families in need, walk in a walk or run in a run.  Reach out to your neighbor who has a sick elderly mother.  Call a family whose child is in the hospital and offer to drop off dinner for them.  (The best advice I got from an older friend at church one time was never say "let me know if you need help" to someone in need. Most people won't want to "bother" you or are so overwhelmed they don't know what to ask for.  She advised being specific with offers such as "I'll drop off dinner tomorrow night, I'll set it on your front porch" or "I'm dropping some groceries off later today."  Seriously, good advice in my opinion.)

This month, YOU can also help raise a million dollars for Make-A-Wish.  

You've heard of Make-A-Wish right?  Make-A-Wish grants the wish of a child diagnosed with a life-threatening medical condition.  They help ease the pain and the worry.  They are about joy and love and holding onto what is good and true.

  

For the second year in a row, StraightTalk is hosting "Give A Minute, Help Make-A-Wish" promotion to raise the million dollars (Click here for more information  bit.ly/Straighttalkwish).

Here's how you can get involved:

• Every Saturday in September, Straight Talk Wireless will donate $1 to Make-A-Wish for each person that visits their participating local Walmart and takes a minute to learn more about Straight Talk.

• Straight Talk will donate a minimum of $500,000 to Make-A-Wish and up to $1,000,000.

• Don't live near a Walmart? Really? No worries. From now until September 28, when you share the video on straighttalkwish.com, Straight Talk will donate $1 to Make-A-Wish®, up to $100,000 (one donation per viewer, per day) towards their $1,000,000 goal. It's fast, easy and worth every second!

Straight Talk is a service provided by TracFone Wireless Inc., America’s largest no-contract cell phone provider in the U.S. 

Straight Talk is available exclusively at Walmart and the cost savings of not having to maintain stores is passed directly on to customers.  Straight Talk has all of the same phones as the contract carries, including name brands like Samsung, Apple, Windows and LG. The “ALL YOU NEED” plan for $30 a month to receive 1,000 minutes, 1,000 text or multimedia messages, 30 MB of data transfer for data phones and 411 calls at no additional charge.

Because you took one minute to learn more about Straight Talk more sick children will have wishes granted.  

Beep. Beep. Beep.  The sound resonates now less like a scary, sad reminder of loss.  Now it can be more like the beating of our collective hearts full of love...the pulse of compassion.

We can all make a difference.

I participated in this sponsored campaign for One2One Network. 
I received monetary compensation, 
but all opinions stated are my own.