Why I did the ride… Making Sense Out of Nonsense

Lots of folks have asked me why I am doing this trip.  My answers have run the gambit from positive to negative from when I initially was asked to do support.  I was a reluctant participant.  I recall an early morning run with my running buddy, Julie, where I was completely convinced and concerned that there was no way we could raise $5000… let alone $7500.  So… why did I initially agree to do the ride?  In a word… Jim.  My wife was losing her father.  I was losing a father-in-law I really hadn’t had a chance to know or understand.  This ride was a chance to maybe make some sense of all of the non-sense.

As the year unfolded, my skepticism about fundraising began to mount.  I was convinced that we would end up short.  I couldn’t see folks opening their pockets in such a down economy… especially for me… I’ve gotten a reputation for being a tight wad.  The year was becoming increasingly negative.  Dad passed away in June.  I remember kneeling at the rail in the front of our church, asking God for help to somehow find the strength to support my wife and the wisdom to know what or how to be the comfort she needed.  The summer became a really low point in my life.  The demands of the many things in my life seemed to combine in a perfect storm.  My Saturdays became a day of watching Morgan while Meg trained.  I wouldn’t have much time for Loren… and I became bitter.  God was working on me.

In August, we held a fundraising barbeque at our church.  Meggan went out and tirelessly found businesses willing to donate to our cause.  It was incredible to see so many people willing to support the cause.  I had to do a bunch of research about cancer to find things to MC the BBQ.  I started to understand the full scope of what cancer research had done and is doing.  The night before the banquet, cancer claimed my Aunt Lila Elliott (Ricketts).  She had bravely fought a painful battle with bone cancer for about two years.  The following week I attended her funeral in Herman, MO.  At the funeral… everyone was really relieved that she was home.  Lila was the first of five children in the Ricketts family to pass.  My mom… a very strong woman, a survivor of polio, who rarely cries… whom I don’t recall ever having being shaken when speaking publicly, became emotional as she recounted visiting with Lila during the year before she passed.  She told about how Lila and Uncle Jim had just bought their first house after 30+ years in the ministry.  My parents, who are in the ministry as well, had just bought their first house about the same time.  Lila had made a comment about how ironic, wonderful, and a blessing it was that both she and my parents had finally gotten their own home to enjoy retirement… it was a comment that gave no power or credit to cancer. 

Got me to thinking about cancer, and my own life.  When I try to think back to my earliest memory of cancer, it brought back things I’d forgotten long ago.  I lost my grandpa Ricketts to cancer in 1983.  His name was Kenneth, which was where I got my middle name.  When he got sick, I was 6.  I remember making trips out to the farm where they lived in Illinois, to visit often as his time came closer.  The farmhouse had been filled with all kinds of special medical equipment that had been moved into the farmhouse with the hospital bed where he would later pass.  Inside the bathroom was an old fashioned water bottle – heat/ice bag.  Well… I was 6, and didn’t know what that was and hadn’t seen one before.  I assumed it had something to do with cancer.  Sometime after he passed, we visited my grandma Snyder.  I discovered a water bottle in her medicine cabinet.  I became upset to the point of tears that she had cancer and would die…  No… she didn’t have cancer, but cancer had made its initial presence known to me as something to be feared.

I mentioned earlier that I really didn’t know or understand my father-in-law, Jim.  During the time we spent in Iowa visiting him at the hospital, in hospice, and at the funeral; I got to know what a great man my children won’t get to know or play with.  Jim McIlravy, or Jimmy Mac, as the locals called him, was a character.  He was a fun loving man, who some folks thought was just some crazy guy to be made fun of.  But Jim wasn’t a character.  He was a man of character.  He was the type of man who would leave his crops in the field to help another farmer in need at harvest.  He didn’t value self… he was a man of service, and a man that was understood and respected by those who he selflessly loved.  Jim went to God in the arms of my wife as I looked on.  I don’t think I will ever see or feel anything in my life that will make me feel more helpless…

The BBQ turned my year around.  I learned alot about myself, about friendship, and about faith.  Our church family and friends turned out in awesome numbers.  Our friends stepped up and bailed me out of some poor planning on my part at the last minute.  All in all, we raised about a third of our money that night.  The $7500 seemed more manageable. 

The next week when I was at my Aunt’s funeral, my mother’ grade school classmate, Gail McDonald a published Christian author, wife of Gordon McDonald, another  Christian author, rode to the cemetery for the internment with my brother and I.  On the trip, she asked both my brother and I what our spiritual gifts were.  Then she asked what our wife’s gifts were.  I hadn’t thought about it in the context of where I was at with being in a funk, and in the context of what Meg was dealing with.  God’s hand continued to work.

Sometime during the training I discovered that watching Morgan on Saturdays was becoming the highlight of my week.  While meg was training… Morgan and I would train… ride the train at heritage park that is.  These are memories we will cherish forever.

The fundraising, planning, and now trip to Austin have helped me grow in my relationship with my wife , my understanding of friendship, and my faith walk.  I have a renewed faith in the generosity and heart of our county.  The news says things are down.  The reality is that people are up.  People are up to supporting good causes.  And they don’t need the government’s help to do it.

I now know that cancer, while a valid threat, is not something to live in fear of.  Cancer is something that we are a part of working to cure.  My Aunt Lila was right.  Cancer doesn’t mean stopping our dreams.  We have to continue to do the work we were gifted to do.

Turns out my spiritual gift is service.  I think Jimmy Mac and I had a lot in common… No – my kids won’t get to know grandpa Jim or play with him… but, I can be the kind of man he was…  and teach them the lessons of selfless loving service he valued. 

Cancer might have taken grandpa Jim, but his legacy will strongly live on.