Our daughter Maggie Lee has been gone for five years now. Life-changing acts of kindness have been done in her memory on every October 29th, Maggie Lee for Good Day, since 2009. To our astonishment, people in Germany, Venezuela, Haiti, Africa, Ireland, France, Switzerland, Chicago, Seattle, LA, Houston, Shreveport, Dallas, Jackson, Birmingham, Atlanta, San Antonio, St. Louis, New Orleans, Tifton,GA, San Diego, Austin, Denver, New York and hundreds of other places have participated.
I have met many new friends along this journey. Most people who celebrate MLFG Day have never even met Maggie Lee but were somehow impacted by her story, changed for good. In compiling a new video for Maggie Lee for Good Day I came across this video linked above which I wanted to share with you. She looks pretty sleepy as she was sick a lot of her 6th grade year, but her spirit clearly shines though.
May we always keep in mind the beautiful gift we are given in each other and continue to share God’s love in ways that people can see and feel. As Maggie Lee said, “I really love The Lord and I want to put His work into my work. And I think with Him I can do all things.” Maggie Lee for Good.
There are a few women in my life whom our concentric circles of crazy align so perfectly that it makes us far more dangerous together than we are individually. So it is with Maureen. Mo and I were room mates our sophomore and junior year at Baylor. People would tell us that they could not take being inside either of our brains for five minutes. Which we thought was full-on awesome.
It is strange that we ever became friends, really. She was the brainy and brash Irish St.Louis girl and I was the only slightly-less brash Southern Belle who relied on brownie baking to get through college. But then again if you are from the same tribe you have an unavoidable way of finding each other. She has been my friend in sunshine in rain; weddings, funerals and all other momentous seasons in-between. After John and I were engaged, I told him that we could not get married until Mo came back from Japan in 9 months. And yet John still likes Mo.
With Baylor now being on the map football-istically thanks to Heisman Trophy winner Robert Griffin III, (RG3,) a new bazillion-dollar stadium was built on campus in Waco. I caught wind of friends coming from Atlanta, Houston and Dallas to be there for the inaugural game against SMU on August 31st and I decided that our return to campus was long overdue.
On August 22 I texted Mo that we needed to be there for the game on he 31st. She assumed October 31st, but silly her, no, I meant 9 days from then. She booked her flight, I scavenged for impossible tickets, began searching for matching shirts (vital) and because time was short, crafting matching Baylor jewelry for us.
I squeezed in visits with two other of my Dallas / Ft. Worth steel magnolias (Gina and Stork,) and picked up Mo from the airport with “We AreFamily.” blaring from my Rogue with all windows down. Because you are always the same age inside and darn if I’m not still 18. We did the scream / sing / dance reunion hug, grown men laughed at not with us and Maureen invited one old guy to come with us just for fun. Which I told her he may take the wrong way and there was no room since she had her huge suitcase.
Hair did & jewelry on we headed West to Waco Sunday Morning. First on the agenda was the Baylor Bookstore. Check. Bear Pit. Check. Old dorm room: roadblock. We quickly learned that the dorms are now on lockdown to keep out the riffraff. Which totally did not work. Soon with the help of a new friend who could tell we were not human traffickers we were on Memorial third floor. It smelled the exact same: burnt microwave pop corn and hair product with spray starch undertones. Yummy.
We crept down the sacred hall amused that the wood paneling survived the renovation and arrived at our Sophomore year dorm room. This venerable spot, with views of The Browning Library, was holy grounds for all we became in the 9 month time period of our lives. We snapped a picture of ourselves in front of our room and since the room next door was open, Mo tapped on that one first.
“Hi. We used to live next door. We used to have old ladies come back to look at our dorm room they lived in 30 years ago and now we’re the old ladies. Can we take a look around?”
“Of course! Come in.” said our new sweet friend.
Since she showed signs of cooperation, we asked if she would take our picture. In the bathroom. Reenacting shaving our legs. She said that the girls who lived in our actual room were there and they wouldn’t mind our looking around. We knocked on the bathroom door expectantly, curious yet nervous that we would be turned away.
The co-ed answered the door as though she routinely received middle-aged women via her bathroom and told us to feel free to look around. Which took three seconds. Little had changed in our room despite 25 years of wear and tear. The formerly sophomore dorm was now a Freshman honors dorm. She said her roommate was coming back in a minute and would love to meet us which we found hard to believe. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the door opened and we yelled, “surprise, we used to live in your room!” to a shocked Freshman. What else could we have done?
The girls politely asked us to lunch and we told them we’d catch up with them at the Student Union Building. They insisted on walking with us, threw on their Baylor Line jerseys and we ventured to the SUB together. Maureen and I grabbed salads and reminisced about how only guys used to run in the Baylor Line (The Freshman who form the line for the football team to run through) We looked at each other, began laughing hysterically and knew that we owed it to the generations of Baylor Women who never got to run to open McClane Stadium and run in The Baylor Line. 26 years later.
Yes, George and Laura Bush and a ton of other important people were there, yes security was NUTS and yes, we did have tickets to the game which cost a kidney. We are law-abiding citizens, and typically make excellent choices. But there are in every life those handful of times when fate taps you on the shoulder and beckons you under the rope and you really would be crazy to hesitate. Maybe it was the late Robin Williams’ sentimentally whispering “Carpe Diem” in my ear or maybe just because I amwoman hear me roar or maybe it was regret over those four years of wearing dresses, hose and pumps to football games, but I did it. I ran with the Baylor Line.
The scene from the field unfolded in slow-motion; beautiful green grass, jubilant alumni like me so thrilled to have a winning team, thousands on their feet cheering, reliving their glory days. And I ran. In flip-flops and mom jeans with purse slung over my shoulder. I ran on pure adrenaline from the utter joy of living life to the fullest. In total awe and disbelief that life could be this flat out beautiful. I ran, until I felt a velvet swoosh to my left which stopped me cold.
The perfect dreds swayed in slow motion as my crazy dream sequence suddenly got totally out of hand. There to my left was Robert Griffin III, whom I totally adore. I caught up with him (i know, right?) and swarmed him with the others, my iPhone randomly capturing me, then him, then me screaming. It did not capture his gentle yet firm velvet right arm prying me off of his body. This Moses of a man brought us into the promised land after wandering in the desert 40 years and I got to stalk him. Up close.
The Bears emerged from their locker room, the fireworks began in circular motion around the top of McClane and the Freshman ran to get to their seats. So I did as well. They all peeled off to the right and mom jeans went left. I was reunited with Mo at our seats who still cannot believe that I got to and she was prevented from, running in The Baylor Line. Together we continued to soak in the surreality of the epic day, thick in memories of our felt-like-yesterday past, amazed that so much time had passed and we had come so far.
Before I delivered my first child, I had maternal guilt. I was certain that eating Flintstone Vitamins in lieu of the prenatal ones (which I could not keep down) per my physician’s suggestion would lead to some horrific defect. And (all together now:) It will be ALL my fault. According to Erma Bombeck, guilt is the gift that keeps on giving. And how right she was.
A twinge or a flood, justified or absurd, guilt is a common emotion. Added to the obvious mistakes we make are the endless choices we as parents could have made which should have resulted in a better outcome and Bingo! Guilt. The brain seeks to make sense of our circumstances, no matter how good or bad. One way in which it does that is to take responsibility. For everything. And everyone. So what, if any, positive purpose does legitimate guilt serve and how can we fight the illegitimate guilty feelings to which we are prone?
According to John M. Grohol, PSYD, “guilt is an emotional warning sign that most people learn through their normal childhood social development. “Healthy” or “appropriate” guilt serves a purpose in trying to help redirect our moral compass.” If you let your child marinade in a wet diaper for 3 hours, chances are you earned your guilt twinge. If you have twins and one is a brilliant mathematician while the other barely scrapes by, feeling guilty for this is inappropraite. If there is no moral issue to correct, there is nothing over which to feel guilty.
Legitimate guilt is an internal signal that we need to admit our mistake, apologize and move on. As Augustine said, “Repentant tears wash out the stain of guilt.” Relief only comes when we face our mistake and seek to make things better. This means humbling yourself to apologize, when it is warranted, even to your children. Family is where we learn what it takes to make good choices in the world. It is key to instill in your kids the need to take responsibility for their actions.
Forbes Magazine published a Stanford Business School study which reported that people who feel guilt when doing something wrong actually made great leaders. Partly, perhaps, because they feel responsible for their actions and aware when those actions negatively affect others. Additionally when prompted by guilty feelings, good leaders seek to make amends with those they have caused harm.
“Unhealthy guilt’s purpose, on the other hand, is only to make us feel bad for little legitimate reason” says Grohol. This unhealthy guilt, encouraged by its equally wicked twin, anxiety, seems inherent in parenthood, right? Whether pesky or downright immobilizing, unhealthy guilt is a huge waste of emotional energy. Living under the burden of illegitimate guilt can lead to impairment in one’s ability to make future decisions, fearful of making a wrong move.
If you feel completely overwrought this time of year, perhaps you are burdened by guilt. How can you get to a freer place?
Quiet your mind to dig down to the root of your guilt. Take a walk, write in a journal, be quiet and uncover what is really going on. If it is legitimate guilt over something you did or failed to do, make amends. Ask God’s forgiveness, write that letter, make a call, admit your part in whatever went wrong. Whatever it takes to own your actions, do it. Then let it go. Once you have admitted your mistake, whether or not someone forgives you is not your responsibility. If it is something like working mom guilt or stay at home mom guilt, examine that. If you made the best decision for your family be at peace with that and determine to once and for all let the illegitimate guilt go.
Honestly there are a thousand better ways to do things as a parent which will all become clear about the time our offspring are 25 or so. When parental guilt rears its ugly head, take a a moment and identify whether it is justified or not. Dig past the surface emotion to identify the true origin and if it is valid, change your behavior. If unjustified, cut the senseless guilt out like the cancer it is. A world of wasted energy could be saved if we would but take a quiet moment to inspect our emotions rather than being helplessly sunk by them.
A Mother and her platinum blond three-year-old walked on the sidewalk in front of me en route to Starbucks this morning. The little one had sparkly sandals, a gingham sundress and wayward ringlets which bounced in stride. The sight reminded me of my curly-haired toddler who wore enough glitter to make Dolly Pardon blush.
Curly girl peeled off the right while her mom continued walking. Noticing she was suddenly alone, the mom turned, scanned the patio and said, “Violet, we have to get our drinks first, remember?”
Violet clearly did not remember. She averted her eyes in embarrassment and exhaled an, “Oh, yea” with a sheepish grin in a slow-motion, “Whaaa-whaaa” sort of way, dragging to the entrance. I held the door for Violet and told her that her sandals were fabulous. Her mom prompted a “thank you,” which Violet dutifully sighed, likely exhausted by having to hear how adorable she is all day every day. Which I totally get. None of.
As mother and daughter approached the counter I could feel the rising heat flush my face and tears fill my eyes. I was glad to have just enough space between the Teavana Oprah Chai Tea Tower and the Kati Kati display to hang back and gather myself with a deep breath. I mean Oprah is certainly known to bring out my ugly cry but I didn’t think the barista would buy that cover story.
With cleared throat, I ordered and beheld through bleary eyes Starbuck’s line of La Boulange pastries. Boulange being the one word I remember from my trip to Paris. It means bakery. Not to be confused with Crap-erie…that’s where they make crepes… I know, right? (insert joke here) As I stood there admiring the cakes, a redemptive seed-thought was planted in my mind. I’ve found God to be a particularly extravagant sower of such these days.
I creamed my coffee, returned to my car and this time held my tears until safely inside. As I missed Maggie Lee, both her toddler years but would be her senior year of high school this year, the phrase “time heals all wounds” crossed my mind. But that was not the seed and frankly experience tells me that this statement is not entirely accurate. Time obviously softens the blow but healing is different matter altogether. What has proven true is the idea of time not healing all wounds but rather time affording one the opportunity to make friends with disappointment.
What those who have been through these tragedies: divorce, cancer, bankruptcy, rejection, abuse, betrayal and downsizing share in common is the disappointment that life will never again be the same as it was. Obviously this takes quite some time to accept. Our paradigm is blown and we find ourselves in some surreal, overly-dramatic beginning of a bad Hallmark Channel movie. Not even a good one. Loss is jarring to say the least. Honestly, life hands and God allows some shockingly challenging times on earth; for instance the recent beheading of journalist James Foley. What tremendous grace his parents John and Diane have shown in the face of their graphic loss.
But there is always the rest of the story; so now to the seed part. Like a pastry left in La Boulange’s oven too long (nothing is actually baked at Starbucks, mind you) at times life is like a burnt cake. We begin with such great expectations of how our cakes will turn out. The picture in our minds is so pretty and the icing-waves so perfect. We measure, sift and and follow directions perfectly yet the burning occurs. Or maybe someone intentionally adjusts the temperature when we are not looking. Or, perhaps we ignore the directions, set the oven on 450 and get a drive-through daiquiri. (All hail Shreveport!) Through either no fault of our own, our complete doing or somewhere in-between, we have a burned cake.
Left with what remains, we have choices to make. We can memorialize the cake, shellac it and pipe the words, “This crap cake is not AT ALL what I expected.” That way each time we pass we can be freshly disappointed, our pain vindicated. That’s one way to go. Or, we can throw the cake away and completely disappear because it is just too much to face and no one has ever pulled such a horrible specimen out of their oven. But still there is another way; we can do what people have been doing with their disappointment for centuries: simply make the most of what we have been given. Breathe deeply, trim the edges and gracefully coat it with colossal amounts of icing.
Isn’t it wonderful when a plan comes together perfectly? I love that. When we can bring the fat-laden comfort casseroles to someone else and send rather than receive the sympathy cards. We love our comfort, the beauty of a life following our script and moist cakes browned to perfection. But unfortunately at times life hands us a volcanic doozy in a smouldering bunt pan.
So I proudly share membership with you in the charred cake club. My cajun masterpiece is slathered with icing and leaning with gusto. It looks like something Cindy Lou-Who would whip out for the Christmas feast rather than a $4.00 cupcake you’d pair with your tall coffee of the day. I have a feeling yours may have crispy edges under the fondant as well if you’ve lived long enough. The great news? We get points for even our wonky cakes. It’s called the life we get to live: one more day with endless possibility. Every day you persevere, trim and slather. It may be a far cry from the picture on the box but itsyours and its beautiful.
If not already, pretty soon the sun screen-shined SUV seats will be covered in permission slips, after-school snacks and random articles of clothing shucked en route to after school activities. The Road-Pro 12-Volt Slow Cooker you plug into your cigarette lighter will start looking good as nano seconds count in the carpool relay.
So as we prepare for the year, before we get lost in a Sharpie high, let’s get real for two minutes. I give you a few sanity-savers in shorthand:
1. Expect that your child will fail gloriously at least once this year and guess what, so will you.
After selling a kidney to pay for her private tumbling lessons, your daughter may try out and not make the cheerleading squad when 8 of her BFF’s do.
Your son could run for student body President and despite a $75.00 Sam’s Club vat of beef jerky adorned with the slogan, “Don’t be a JERK, Vote Ben for Prez!” he may lose. Using a speech you convinced him to let you tweak no less. Yes, that will leave a mark.
Your little guy will perhaps by God’s grace squeak out a C in Chemistry which you know full well means that he will most likely not get into the college of his choosing.
You may have a toddler who is invited to leave preschool because of biting or a 19-year-old son invited to leave the university for the same reason.
The great news? You probably will lay an egg of your own this school year.
You will go MIA; Missing the awards ceremony where your child is named student of the year. You will only remember this when your friends text you pictures after the fact. These pictures may or may not include your child with furrowed brow feverishly searching the crowd for your face.
The passion with which you volunteer to be snack mom in August outstrips your memory in November. If you do somehow miraculously remember, your snack will contain trace amounts of tree nuts sending at least one child searching for an epi pen (don’t ask me how scary this is or how I know. Snack Moms everywhere: please use caution.)
Or, the Mother of all sins: You forget to submit pictures for the year-end slide show. Of course the Mom who assembles the whole shebang is certain that the 14th and 39th picture contain a forearm, pony tail or t-shirt most likely belonging to your child. Which makes everything way better.
Parents, even bringing your A game most of the time: You. Will. Seriously. Blow. It. Embrace this reality now and prepare in advance to grace yourself and your child.
2. Expect that your child will not be included in every single social event which occurs and do not have a panic attack about it. Your child smells your social anxiety, don’t stink-bomb your issues on the innocent.
Barring the mean girl phenomenon, most of the time it is an oversight rather than a personal attack when your child is excluded. Mercifully, as kids age their birthday parties shrink in number present (or else none of us would survive to grandparenthood.) With fewer children being invited, often it is a numbers game rather than an intentional affront.
Nothing ruins a weekend like seeing 4 of your child’s buddies piling into a car with overnight bags after school on Friday. Or even more hurtful, them seeing the fun they are missing on Instagram. Just remember how fluid relationship dynamics are when you are 12, choose a fun activity of your own to do and take away the phone for the night if need be. As a parent you cannot make up for the hurt of peers but you can model how to shoulder disappointment gracefully. And get a dog.
Unfortunately we parents can suffer from “PKSD,” or Post Kickball Stress Disorder from childhood: being excluded, chosen last, being called fat, skinny, stupid, or brainy. One in every 10 parent actually ate the paste in Kindergarden. We all have our stuff, right? Too often we see our kids as people kits we try to perfectly construct as better versions of ourselves. If we are honest, at times the drive to ensure our kids are included stems from our own need for acceptance.
For every child there will come a time when they are the odd person out, such is the rhythm of life on Earth. Perhaps without that vital lesson they would not know empathy for others as they desperately need to. When this hurtful yet normal part of childhood occurs, train yourself to look for things in your life which are going right to thank God for. Disappointment is inevitable but what we do with it is up to us.
3. Remember that if you do this parenting gig right you work yourself out of a job
I was floored this past weekend as I saw a Dad coaching his daughter through the process of making a waffle at the breakfast bar. She looked to be a bright 11-year old, engaged in conversation about the bike race they would participate in the next day.
So the Father read the laminated waffle directions like he is Annie Sullivan pressing the letters W-A-T-E-R into the hand of Helen Keller in “The Miracle Worker.” She waited impishly on his every directive, insecurely followed orders and appeared afraid to fail. Chances are this young lady was more than capable of cranking out a waffle but she was simply not trusted with the task. We cannot expect a switch to flip at 18 and our children suddenly have great judgement when they have had limited experience using theirs. Let them burn a waffle at 11
Envision your life in 20 years. Now envision your couch. Now envision your grown child eating your Ben & Jerry’s, watching your TV on that couch. None of us truly see this as a beautiful outcome, do we? The thought perhaps is radical but when we prepare the way for the child rather than the child for the way, we provide a false sense of the reality they will face.
Trust your children to handle their business as much as you possibly can. Sure some children require more supervision than others to reach their full potential but start small this year and curtail the hovering. It will liberate you and train your child to be more self-sufficient. To be fair, in a calm conversation let the kids know that you expect them to be responsible for their “job:” schoolwork and extracurriculars. Then the hard part: let them struggle. The S word, I know, but it is really, really important part of their growth as a person.
4. Pray
As Oswald Chambers said, “It is not so much that prayer changes things but prayer changes me and I change things.” When we pray, we release the death grip we have on something when really we have no control upon it whatsoever. Prayer transforms our vision.
Prayer is a tool for me to reach out and focus on God who lasts forever rather than my problems which thankfully will not. Just silently contemplating the hugeness of God brings a breath of perspective I desperately need. When the desire to helicopter is strong, as is my desire for action, prayer is the action I need to take. It slows me down, tempers my emotion and gives me fresh eyes for the challenge at hand.
So as the Summer fades from view and school hits like a monsoon, pace yourself, grace yourself, ditch the helicoptering and pray.
I remember the ultrasound tech’s words in San Antonio 16 years ago when she told us we were expecting a little boy,
“If I’m wrong, I need to go sell shoes or something.”
She was right. What she could tell me that day was that we would soon add a boy to our family, what I could notknow was how rich my life would be as a result of that addition. Here are the reasons I love being my son’s Mom. Parents everywhere, try not to be too jealous:
The flowery nick-names: One Mother’s Day I received a card with the loving title, “23 Chromosomes” scribbled upon it. Sure I had to use Google to get the joke which is sad because he was in the 6th grade when he foisted out that one but it stuck.
In the morning I greet him with a tender, “Good Morning, Baby Jack” and commonly receive a wry, “Good Morning, Baby Momma” in return.
I am, however, called “Pretty Momma” when there a last-minute grocery item, gas for the John Deere or a bait-seeking mission to Academy Sports & Outdoors needed.
The honesty: Erma Bombeck nailed it when she wrote about the difference between boys and girls. “When it is silent and you ask girls what they are doing the answer is always “Nothing.”
Ask boys and they’ll tell you, “We just threw the cat down the laundry shoot. It was so cool”
After a discussion with a friend of mine, I posed the question to my son,”So, it was inferred to me by a friend that I can at times be dramatic. Do you think I’m dramatic?”
Glaring straight back at me in disbelief he shot, “Uh. YEAH, Mom.” then chortled.
The simplicity: Food is fuel, nothing more. He eats like a honey badger when starving and refuses food when he is not hungry. He is deaf to the tiny temptress voice which relentlessly whispers, “cupcakes” to me internally if some exist in the kitchen.
And really, why expend energy changing shorts when you could conserve that precious resource NOT changing your shorts? Alas, the Mother of all arguments…
The Matrimonial Standard: Apparently attending a wedding is the only event which warrants full battery of hygiene, ironed clothes and appropriately matching socks. The standards of everyday life are far less vigorous.
This life-philosophy is evidenced by the tag line, “It’s not like we’re going to a wedding or anything” in response to questions such as,
“Did you put on a belt?”
“Brush your hair yet?”
“Change out of your squirrel-hunting shirt before church?”
The Bear Gryllesque test of character: Waiting for Longmire to que up I received this rare nugget of what matters to Jack.
“You know If I had to
save
someone’s
life
(dramatic pause)
by chewing off their leg, I’d do it. I would, Mom.”
“Hey Mom, if chewing off my leg was the only way to save my life, would you do it?”
After numerous qualifying questions about femoral arteries bleeding out and would there be someone to find us after I had gnawed his trapped leg, he gave up in disgust.
I guess from now on, my love will just have to be expressed in less dramatic ways.
A tiny glimpse at the outpouring of kindness on October 29th, 2013, Maggie Lee for Good Day.
From Sweden to Shreveport, Carracas to California in a greater movement than we have ever seen, acts of kindness continued. Words limit our expression of awe that God has taken our worst nightmare and through your very hands woven something beautiful, enduring and impactful. Here are just a few of the great things which happened on MLFG 2013:
Our son Jack had a party for some precious kids from Bossier. They were paired up with some outstanding young men form Loyola. They fished together ate together and played a rousing game of football on Saturday, Oct. 26.
The AXO sorority from Baylor University collected socks for Maggie Lee’s Closet. Michelle Osborn had a doggie treat station for neighborhood dogs in Shreveport and Madeline and Melanie bought Chick-Fil-A for strangers in Houston.
Loyola Prep in Shreveport sold tickets for a free dress day on Halloween and raised money for Maggie Lee’s Closet. Coach Keel’s Loyola Basketball Team unloaded and carried all the donated books to Maggie Lee’s Closet.
Every school in Tifton, GA collected food for the Tift Co Foodbank. Cindy at Sunset Elementary School in Moultrie, GA gave treats to the staff as they do each year on Maggie Lee for Good day.
The Ponders from Shreve Island Elementary held a book collection at three Shreveport Schools. Lakeview Elementary in Trophy Club, TX had a toy drive for the Roanoke Food Pantry.
Colleen, Jeff and family held a hot chocolate stand and raised $600. for Maggie Lee’s Closet.
Tina in Shreveport delivered hot doughnuts to a fire station while Aprile & Debbie brought lunch to teachers at an under resourced school who rarely get such a treat. Madeline provided Bingo treats for an adult day care facility.
Whitney and Delaney collected 300 books for Cooks Children’s Hospital in Ft. Worth. Lin in San Diego collected coats for the homeless. LeAnn, a teacher in San Diego, bought new shoes for one of her students.
Abby in Shreveport shared her toys with a neighbor boy across the street while Kandee’s preschool class made a treat for the office workers at her Elementary School in Shreveport.
Judy brought Dunkin Doughnuts and warm coffee to the homeless on State Street in Chicago
Bill and Jody gave blood in Libertyville, IL. The Bossier City, LA Chick-Fil-A gave away cow calendars and gift cards at the top of every hour.
Joannie in Chicago, IL, paid for a young mom’s groceries and Teri in Shreveport paid for another young mom’s Halloween costumes for her kids. Katherine and her 5th grade students in Baden, Switzerland planned rainy-day recess for the younger classes and carried them out on Oct. 26.
Escuelo Campe Allegre in Caracas, Venezuela gave away cupcakes. First Baptist Church School in Shreveport collected towels for Robinson’s rescue, money for the Louisiana Association for the blind, socks and clothes and donations for Maggie Lee’s Closet.
Gina and kids held a costume party & collected socks in Frisco, TX while the AXO’s at LA Tech supported Maggie Lee’s Closet through t-shirt sales. Noel Methodist in Shreveport collected clothes for Maggie Lee’s Closet. Maureen and kids in St. Louis paid for unsuspecting customers bakery treats.
Kathy and Camille in Trophy Club, TX donated bean bag chairs and book cases for Maggie Lee’s Closet. Antonia in Brownwood and her dog gave free hugs on MLFG Day.
And then there was this from a Mom named Ashley who stayed in The Ronald McDonald House in Chapel Hill:
I can’t be 100% certain, but I’m pretty sure MLFG was behind the $200 donation to our stay at the UNC Chapel Hill Ronald McDonald house on 10/29. I don’t know who, but whoever you are, you will never, ever, EVER understand the blessing you were to us as we checked out this morning and found out our $330 bill was only going to be $130. But wait, the $100 bill we were given yesterday left us with only $30 to pay… and the lady at the desk at the RM house took care of that last $30. Your good deeds do not go unnoticed. Thank you so very, very much… ️️
I received an email from someone earlier in the month who told me that their family was paying the bill for this family on October 29th, so it was indeed a “Maggie Lee”- a good deed done on MLFG Day.
And so it goes, this simple idea of doing one act of kindness; deeds tiny and spontaneous or methodically planned. All of these beautiful deeds echo together for good.
There is so much truly bad news in the headlines today. On Monday a student at Sparks Middle School in Nevada armed with a semi-automatic weapon killed a teacher and wounded two others. Between tragedies like that and rediculousness like Miley Cyrus’ dance moves its easy to be discouraged about this generation of kids. But there are so many more quietly living impactful lives, doing good for others in need and living lives of character. Here are a few who have made a difference.
Shreveport 8th Grade Cheerleaders have raised over $1,500.00 for pediatric brain injury support groups on MLfG Day through their snack stands. They met Live! hosts Kelly Ripa and Michael Strahan and shared their MLfG story in New York last year.
Contact: Petra Barber:
Davidandpetra@comcast.net
Sixth-grader Kathleen and fourth-grader Meredith Doucet of Flower Mound, TX held a hot chocolate stand on MLfG Day in 2012. They raised $400.00 for Maggie Lee’s Closet. They will again be selling hot chocolate for good on November 2nd.
Contact: Colleen Doucet:
colleen.doucet@icloud.com
video of hot chocolate stand:
Every year High School Sophomore Jessie Keener sponsors the Maggie Lee for Good Costume fun run to benefit North Carolina Organ Donation services. The athletic beauty queen will again have a fun run on October 27th at Fayetteville Christian Academy. This year’s event is MLFG 4 EJB- dedicated to another young girl Emmi Barbaro (pictured above) who passed away this year who embodied the one day, one deed, one difference spirit.
Contact: Millie Keener:
keenerfay5@aol.com
The Ponder boys of Shreve Island Elementary are holding a book drive for Maggie Lee’s Closet and recruited Eden Gardens and South Highlands to join them. Benjamin Ponder did 10 good deeds on his 10th birthday: one of them was working in Maggie Lee’s Closet.
There is good being done in the world. Despite the sensationalism of the bad, rest assured that this generation has those looking beyond themselves and their phones to make a difference.
This is a video of Meredith & Colleen Doucet’s drive-thru hot chocolate stand they convinced their whole neighborhood to attend. The donations purchased uniforms for under resourced kids through Maggie Lee’s Closet. These girls make a difference and have a blast doing it.
Yourfifth Maggie Lee for Good Day is happening in just two weeks. I say yours because God keeps inspiring you and you keep listening to His still, small creative voice to do good on purpose on October 29th. You touch the world with His passionate pizazz and color greyed-out faces with your blush brush of kindness. You love in brilliant, fun & festive ways and that your expressions of kindness are done with Maggie Lee in mind is like the greatest, biggest chevron bow on top.
Today I got the most knowing, loving smile. An elderly African American lady walked past my car today as I waited for Jack and 3 other football players to come out. His school is in an older part of town and there are always lots of pedestrians on the sidewalk. This lady wore the clothes of a housekeeper with her silvery hair needly pinned in a bun at the nape of her neck. She glanced over her left shoulder, caught my glance and gave me the most genuine smile I have ever received. Love practically shot out of this woman’s wrinkles and on to me as I sat mindlessly waiting in the carpool line.
Why was I given such a gift today? Why was this nonverbal sign of love and affirmation shown to me by a stranger? After considering all of the possible motivations behind her familiar, loving grin I instantly realized that her smile had nothing to do with me and everything to do with HER. She reached out with to me with her beautiful, kind smile not because we are friends or even acquaintances. No, she was just filled with so much love that she had to share it. I’m telling you it arrested me and made me feel amazing.
On Maggie Lee for Good Day you may not be able to organize a food drive, give blood or mow your neighbor’s grass which is so unruly that toddlers get lost up in there. You may not crank out an awesome hot chocolate stand and catch the UPS guy’s attention. You may not find the white shoe polish to write “Happy Birthday Maggie Lee,” on your mini van with like you planned. And that’s ok. But you do have a face and if you’re not using it for The November cover of Vogue perhaps you could give a heart felt smile to someone…and here’s where it gets crazy…you don’t even know.
It costs so little to be kind. A few nano seconds to hold the door for someone, yield the right of way for a fellow motorist or look up directions on your phone for a confused person (I thank you in advance.) These tiny things are monumental because in doing them you demonstrate the belief that others have dignity not because of what they’ve made of themselves but merely because God made them. They breathe. That’s enough reason for me to be kind to them.
Your fifth Maggie Lee for Good Day. How will you use it…for good?
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