It’s like I’m psychic

I know what you’re probably thinking right now: “I wish I still had time to donate to the Walk to End Alzheimer’s.”

If only there were a way…..

OH WAIT. There is. On account of there are three more days before the event and every little bit helps.

And here’s who you’re helping.

On Saturday, my family, friends and I will be taking a walk. But it’s not just any walk. It’s pretty darn important.


‘Cause I told you about it.

A couple times.

And I may have asked for money.

If I have really read your mind and you still want to know a way to give, well I got you right here, holmes.

But if not, it’s alright. I won’t hold it against you. In fact, rather than spend what is most likely the last post on this subject I will write before Saturday asking you to open up your wallets, I want to ask you for another favor.

No, you don’t have to do any heavy lifting. Or give me a foot massage…though that would be nice ’cause my feet hurt at the moment.

Nah, this favor doesn’t benefit me at all.

During a best friend date tonight that happens way less often than it should, we got to talking about getting involved and causes that are close to our hearts. We talked about how good it felt to give back and knowing that something you were doing was doing something good for someone else.

She ran a triathlon and in doing so raised more than $1,600 for those affected by Leukemia and Lymphoma.

This Saturday we’re doing the Walk, and a couple weekends ago, my parents and Rachel and I spent a Saturday morning working on building a house with Habitat for Humanity.

Yeah. BUILDING A HOUSE. I am not the best carpenter, by the way.

But all those things have felt good. Not just for us but for the people we helped.

When we worked with Habitat, swinging the hammer right next to us was the future homeowner, who, between trying not to bend nails told me about her job and two children and how she’d already helped build a significant portion of the house.

It’s easy to talk about how you feel after doing something good for someone else. But imagine how the people must feel who you’re helping.

As is especially the case with the Walk this weekend, those who benefit from what is done there will likely have no idea who to thank. Nor will those who are hopefully, someday cured and no longer have to suffer from this disease. And that’s just fine.

Because if I can swing a hammer or donate $5 and never get a “thank you” but have a deserving family get a home or someone’s mother, father or grandmother receive treatment that helps them remember themselves and those they love, I’m good with that.

Published by Laura

I've got a few stories to tell.

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