March 20.
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 Hisplan, 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 110thyear 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 heopened 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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