Ray of Sunlight (9 page)

“I wanted to tell you about a… I don’t know what to call it… a
program
we’re trying to put together for the kids at the Children’s Hospital.” I started again, and they all seemed to be paying attention. I told them about the idea of feeding the kids and their families and needing real turkeys and some volunteers.

“Not that the volunteers would be turkeys… I mean… I guess the people who wouldn’t want to help would be the turkeys….” I swallowed hard. “Oh, shi—I mean… I’m just really bad at this. And if you knew me, you’d know I don’t do anything I think I’m bad at. I’d rather not try than try and have to admit I failed.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling all these strangers this. It wasn’t something I had ever admitted out loud before.

But, at this point, words were tumbling out of my mouth without actually consulting my brain first. “But this is important enough to me to try anyway. And nothing is important to me… not usually… but this.” Somehow I was actually warming up to this.

“You should see these kids. Some of them are burned so bad you can’t really even tell they’re kids. Some are fighting cancer and have been all their lives. Some are in wheelchairs with severe neurological disorders, some of them unable to talk… having to say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ with their eyes and you have to play twenty questions just to find out which book they want you to read. If anyone ever had the right to shut everyone out and tell the world to go to hell and f—uh… and tell it what it can do with itself… it’s these kids. But they don’t. They love life. Some of them are scarred… inside as well as out… and it’s been a tough fight back, but they’ve kept fighting. Not a one of them has given up. I’d be cowering under a pillow somewhere, but these kids don’t.”

I was finding that it wasn’t hard at all talking about “my” kids. “And CJ… my best friend… he’s dying of cancer. Some days he can’t even get out bed. But on most days… days when most of us would
still
be in bed… he gets up and puts on this ridiculous clown outfit and goes and cheers up the other sick kids.

“This whole thing was his idea, really. Well, I brought it up, but he ran with it. I just wanted real turkeys for the kids and their families on a day when everyone else had that. Who wants institutional turkey for Thanksgiving? But CJ said ‘no, we can do better than that.’” I couldn’t help but chuckle, remembering his enthusiasm. “He wants to have a little carnival or something before lunch. Face painting, indoor games… really just anything we can get our hands on. But, between all of that, and the fact that we’re going to try to get all the kids from three wards and their families in a cafeteria ill equipped for that many people… and then actually
serve
lunch instead of enduring the nightmare of getting that many people in line, cafeteria style, like the place usually runs… not to mention setting up the games and some tables that are no doubt going to have to spill out into the foyer. Well, as you can tell, we’re really going to need volunteers. I understand that it’s a day for family, and I don’t expect many of you to be able to show up. But please, if you can… if you’re not busy that day with your own family… please come spend Thanksgiving with my adopted family. That’s what these kids have become for me.”

I was actually getting a little choked up, so I decided I was almost finished.

“Anyway, if you find you can, we’re meeting in the foyer of the Children’s Hospital at 9:30 to try to set up for everything and hope to have things ready to go for the kids by 10:30. We’ll need help getting all the kids downstairs too, by the way. We plan on entertaining them… somehow… until lunch at twelve.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say without repeating myself. “Yeah… well. Thanks for letting me come speak today. Even if no one can make it, I appreciate the pastor giving me an opportunity to try.”

I stepped away from the mic and back to the seats where Pete and the youth group were sitting… where I had been sitting. Everyone was clapping, like they had at least really listened to me… or just were going along with the three or four who were. I wasn’t sure. But they were clapping nonetheless.

“Someone get an EpiPen.” I was mostly talking to Pete. “I think I’m going into anaphylactic shock from my public speaking allergy.”

The whole youth group section erupted in laughter, and the rest of the congregation looked puzzled. Pastor Roy had been passing me on his way to the podium as I said that, so he shared it with the rest of the congregation. Of course he did. It was embarrassing, so it had to be shared.

Actually, though, the congregation seemed to think it was funny. He waited until the laughter died down and reiterated the time and place to meet and what kind of help we needed, and told the parents of the youth group that this was an official mission experience for them, and they would be meeting at the church and riding together.

The rest of the day was a blur. Everyone wanted to talk to me after the service. I didn’t say much… just thank you, etc. And repeated what I’d already said. Then I rode home with Pete and got the dress duds off as soon as possible. Allen growled. I swear he actually growled, when we passed him on the way up to our rooms. Pete came into my room, and we talked about everything for a little while. I didn’t remember the last time I had just talked to Pete. I thought it was quite possible that it had never happened before… at least not for a long, long time.

W
E
HAD
a couple of weeks to plan for the big Thanksgiving “thing” as CJ referred to it. Pete’s church donated all the turkeys, and we knew we’d have some help from the parishioners but weren’t sure of the number. Meanwhile the thing seemed to be getting out of hand. We had handed out flyers to all the kids and mailed them to the parents. I had forgotten to ask for volunteers’ help for that part. Stuffing that many envelopes? Not fun. But, CJ and I took charge of it, and we got some of the older kids to help. They loved it. So it worked out okay.

Pretty soon, Thanksgiving Day was there. Allen growled again as we left. I mean it, if that guy didn’t stop doing that, someone was going to come pick him up and take him to a cage at the zoo. But, I didn’t care how mad he was. Even Pete didn’t seem to care. Allen had threatened to take Pete’s car keys for the day and not let us go, but Pete just reminded him that the whole youth group was going, and we could just get a ride with them. I thought Allen was going to have a stroke. But he couldn’t really do anything to stop us without looking like an even bigger asshole than he actually was.

Pete and I went early to hang out with CJ for a little while and went down to the lobby around 9:15. What I saw was unbelievable. I swear the entire foyer was full of people and more were trickling in all the time. Many had brought indoor games to play… there was a corn hole set being set up in one of the hallways. And didn’t I feel stupid having to ask CJ what the hell corn hole was.

“Think horseshoes… with beanbags, and holes in plywood boxes” was his answer as he laughed his fool head off.

There was a small wading pool being set up on a table and people asking where they could get water. At my no doubt very confused face, Pete chuckled and said, “They put rubber ducks in it. They have numbers on the bottom and the kids pick a duck and get whatever prize is associated with that number.”

And that brought my attention to the prizes. They had brought prizes for each of the activities. CJ and I were thinking face paint and coloring pages… and no prizes. They had those set up too, but the coloring pages were going to be entered into a coloring contest and there were prizes for first, second, and third, in each age group.

They had toys they were going to give away as door prizes. Nice toys… not cheap at all. I didn’t have any idea where the money for all this came from. Pete said the church already had all the games and stuff because they put on fairs for the kids all the time, and that he didn’t know for sure about the prizes and toys.

They had brought stuffed turkeys to give out to every kid. There were boxes and boxes of the things. These stupid little turkeys with googly eyes… that the kids would absolutely adore, I was sure of it.

They had left room for my table and easel, so I was still going to draw the kids, but CJ looked disappointed. He had wanted to paint faces, but there was already a booth set up. No way in hell I was going to let him be the slightest bit sad when his enthusiasm had encouraged such a successful turnout. I marched over to the table with all the face paints and two teenaged girls.

“Excuse me ladies,” I said, and they giggled. “CJ is our resident face painter. Is there room for him at this table, or would you like him to set up his table on a different hall? Sort of divide and conquer.” And just when the hell had I become diplomatic?

The one girl giggled again, but the other asked, “Is this the friend you talked about that Sunday?” When I said “yes,” she pulled out a chair and told him to sit down. “I hear you put on clown shows all the time.” Which was a stupid-assed question because CJ was in clown costume by now. But she continued. “I love clowns.”

I started to leave as the girls were talking CJ’s ear off. His eyes pleaded, “Help,” but I figured I owed him for all those times he called me “fresh meat.” Let him see what it feels like, being embarrassed and annoyed, was my thought on the matter.

There were plenty of people to help bring the kids down, to supervise all the booths and games, and to serve the actual supper. All the kids had a ball, and the parents didn’t stop raving about it.

“Russ, this is so wonderful.” One of the nurses brought a parent over to me before lunch and started the conversation. She turned toward the parent. “This is the young man I was telling you about. All of this was his idea.” She beamed at me, and the lady standing next to her did also.

“Mine and CJ’s.” I preempted the attention. “Mostly CJ’s, though.”

“Not to hear CJ tell it.” The nurse smiled. “You’re just being modest.”

“Me? Modest?” I laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of being that before.”

“Well,” she said, “you are this time. CJ said this was all your idea.”

“Well,” I stuttered, “maybe the initial idea… but only to get real turkeys instead of the institutional stuff. CJ thought of the carnival.”

“And you came to church to ask for volunteers,” Pete said, joining in the conversation. I hadn’t even heard him walk up.

I glared at him.

“Well,” the parent added, “whether you’re being modest or not, I think this is a wonderful idea. Amy is having a ball, and she usually is so sad on the holidays. We used to go all out on Thanksgiving. Big feast, lots of family, but the last two years, she’s been here for Thanksgiving. Out in between, thank God, but here for the holiday. We’re from Minnesota. Her daddy can’t get off work, and I don’t like to travel with the two little ones, so Amy doesn’t get to see her dad or her brothers when she’s in here.” Amy’s mother chuckled to lighten the mood. “She has to settle with me.” She tried to make light, but I could see it bothered her.

I remembered Amy. She was one of the little gals on the oncology ward. Just down the hall from CJ, actually. She was about twelve, and didn’t have a very good prognosis, if I was remembering correctly. I couldn’t imagine being twelve and going through something like that. Let alone being the parent of a child with cancer. Constantly having to make a choice between your various kids when it came to whom to spend holidays with.

“I’m just glad she’s having a good time, ma’am,” I answered. “Amy’s a good kid.”

“Yes, that’s right, you know her, don’t you?” Apparently, Amy’s mom was settling in for a long conversation. “She told me you help CJ with the clown shows.”

“Well, I’m basically his glorified gofer. But yeah, I help out a little, I guess.”

CJ came rushing up. “You have to save me, Russ.”

That got my attention. “What’s wrong, CJ?”

“Them!” He pointed back toward the face-painting table where I had left him. “They’re driving me nuts, Russ. They’re both flirting with me. The one does nothing but giggle, and the other keeps asking if I ever get out of the hospital. And saying that if I do, I’ll have to go to the movies with her.”

I had to laugh. I had never really seen CJ flustered before. He apparently didn’t like me laughing, though. He hit me.

“This is serious!”

I chuckled again. “No, it’s really not, CJ.”

He smacked me again, so I took pity on him and tried to help solve his problem. “Just tell them you’re gay.”

“I actually tried that. They didn’t believe me.” He looked so adorable when he was rattled. I’m not sure when I started thinking about him being adorable, but there it was. “I even told them I was dying. They didn’t seem fazed by it at all.”

“Look, CJ, tell them you’re not interested.”

He looked aghast. “I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

I doubled over laughing.

It worked out okay, though, because it was about time to get the kids to the tables for lunch. So we stopped by the face-painting table together to ask if they needed help cleaning up, but before they could answer I said that we really needed to get the kids into the dining room. I’ve never seen two more disappointed girls in all my life.

As we walked away, I leaned in. “Just face it, CJ. You’re a stud. You’re going to have to beat them off with a stick.”

“Will my clown bag work?”

He was completely serious.

T
HE
LUNCH
was delicious. All the fixings. But, it was the loudest lunch I’d ever been to, and I go to lunch in a high school cafeteria on a regular basis. This was much worse. But in a good way, if that made any sense.

The kids were all so excited, they couldn’t be quieted, even when they were eating. Quite a few of the residents had gone home for Thanksgiving, so we didn’t have anywhere near the sixty that were normally at the hospital. But the ones who were still here had their families in tow, so that brought the numbers back up. Several of the families were quite large, and many more included little kids.