It's Pocket Change, Really
10-29-2006
Meet Mark Dorman. He's one of Dave's clients out in California. He and his
wife Jill are part of Team in Training, a group that does great things for the
Leukemia Society (2006 marathon, 2009 marathon). They heard about Jaymun from one of
our employees and asked if it would be alright to run a marathon in honor
of Jaymun. Alright? It's one
of the most beautiful gestures I've yet to come across thus far in Jaymun's treatment. There are no words to thank them for
putting themselves out there for the sake of kids with cancer. But I'm sure
going to give it a try....
I've run a marathon. It's not easy. It's not glamorous. The
training is tough, tough work. When the mileage starts getting up in the double
digits, there's many times the thought of quitting sounds mighty appealing.
It's a sport of physical endurance and mental strength. So much sweating and
pain invested for a goal that seems pretty unreachable in the beginning.
But then you cross that finish line, and it all becomes
worth it somehow. All those months of running through brutal weather
conditions--the scorching sun, the cold rain, the driving wind--those months
somehow just toughen your resolve to make it to the finish. Because that
burst of euphoria at the end, that thrill of triumph rippling
through your entire being--that feeling doesn't come along too often in a
lifetime.
And in a way, I hope this marathon that Mark and Jill are
running is symbolic of Jaymun's fight with
cancer. I hope we get to that finish line and hear the doctor pronounce the
words, "He's in remission". I hope all these stressful months of
worry and medical procedures and chemotherapy result in Jaymun
coming home for good. The ultimate finish for our
precious boy.
We had the great pleasure of meeting Mark a couple of weeks
ago when he came out here for one of Dave's training seminars. Jaymun isn't able to go into public buildings because of
his immune system, so we hustled Mark outside to get a quick photo of him
holding Jaymun. I sort of suspected Jill would want
one. (Just a hunch, Jill!) The poor
man isn't used to
There's still time left to donate to Team in Training. The
money you give doesn't go to us directly--I think I'd feel guilty if it did. Because this way, your donation helps all kids
struggling with leukemia. It gives hope to children who will come after Jaymun--kids who maybe won't have to deal with chemo
treatments if the research being done now comes up with a cure. If you already
have a cause you gave your heart to, that's great. Cancer isn't the only
disease taking the lives of children right now. But if you're at all affected
by our story and if Jaymun's sweet smile has inspired
you to ask, "What can I do to help?", then please
donate. Research is expensive and costly and requires hours and hours of human
labor. Your donation by itself may seem so trivial, but I'm pretty sure
that nothing will ever get done if we do--well, nothing.
I've heard so many people complain about having no money.
It's what we Americans love to do, mainly because we haven't really experienced
true poverty. "No money" to us means we can't go on that luxury
cruise every year or buy that classy convertible we're drooling over. Think
about it. Really think about it. Think about it as you sip that
triple caramel latte with extra foam. Think about it as you lace up those $80
Nike athletic shoes. Think about it as you flip through your fifty plus cable
TV programs on your big screen high definition TV. Just think what all
those individual donations from people like you, added together,
could do for kids like our little guy. Mark told me he offers to dig out people's
change from their car ashtrays if they don't have their checkbooks. Now, that's
a true go-getter. I don't have the means or the time to go rifling through your
couch cushions, but I do have one heck of a motivator for you. His name is Jaymun Matthew and we love him to pieces.
I know why Mark runs marathons for Team in Training. I know
why he deals with sore, aching muscles and why he campaigns so
passionately to collect money for cancer research. It's not because he
needs the exercise. It's not because he needs a hobby. It's not because he has
a child who has leukemia. It's not because he feels the urge to take on a
cause.
He does it because he knows the world is bigger than just
him. He does it because your life isn't the same once you realize that cancer
kills more than just a body--it kills hope and joy and beauty and innocence. He
does it because if he doesn't, the research will halt. He does it for the same
reason thousands of wonderful, selfless people all over the world give up their
time and money to raise awareness for life threatening diseases: He
does it because it feels good.
If you go without that extra pair of shoes or give up
that pricey cup of joe--if
you sacrifice just a little bit of your hard earned cash to be a part
of something truly life changing, your heart is going to swell with a
surge of pride when those research scientists announce that they've found a
cure for leukemia. And I promise you,
It's going to feel good.