Reflections on Receiving

I’ve taken the last few weeks off to deal with health issues. It’s not often I am removed from the day to day goings on of my business. I’m a work junkie. I love, love, love what I do. I get to hear the good news about how incredible people are doing incredible work across the country. And sometimes I get to help them do their work a little better.

Over the years I’ve taken for granted that the people being served by nonprofits would gladly welcome and accept the support, advice, food, clothes, or whatever the nonprofit organization was giving them. Why wouldn’t they? People were just wanting to help them, right?

Then I was diagnosed with cancer. And found I had to accept support, advice, food, and love from my community. It was uncomfortable, scary and something I realized I wasn’t very good at.

Here’s the quick recap:
In January I found a lump in my breast. In February I was diagnosed with breast cancer and the treatment was a unilateral mastectomy. I chose April 1 on purpose to keep my sense of humor about it all and to make sure to get all my clients “taken care of” before I took any time off.

While doing the mastectomy my surgeon also removed a small mole from my stomach. . . that turned out to be melanoma. A week later I had additional surgery to remove all the “margins” around it so it wouldn’t spread. Two types of cancer in two weeks. . . yikes.

Throughout the past few months I’ve shared my news as necessary with family, friends, colleagues, and clients. I didn’t make a big huge announcement as I was certain this was a minor thing I would and could handle easily. Fortunately, much of that is true. Though I’ve had some complications and had yet a third and fourth surgery in April to put all of this behind me, the fantastic news is no chemo and no radiation. Whew!

What happened to me as I shared my news was a deeper respect for clients of the many organizations I work with. I instantly had an “insiders” view about what it’s like to feel helpless, needy, and way too much of a burden to my inner circle than I’ve ever wanted to be. And I think of myself as a pretty strong, self-sufficient woman.

What must it be like for the Dad of two daughters who loses his job then can’t pay rent and becomes homeless? How does he accept help and still feel good about himself? Or the Mom who works two jobs but doesn’t have health insurance with either job so when her six-year-old son cuts his leg and needs stitches she has to find somewhere to provide free or low-cost medical care?

How must they feel? For me, although I’ve been grateful for the support, care, and prayers, I’ve felt like a burden at times, ashamed that I got sick, and often incredibly uncomfortable with the support lovingly given to me.
So I vowed to use this experience to remind myself and the caregivers and volunteers at the organizations doing good work why their clients might show up with anger, frustration, fear, embarrassment, or shame. Maybe you already know and understand, but just in case you don’t, please know not everyone finds it easy to “accept” and “receive.” We, many of us who were taught to take care of ourselves, feel it’s a sign of weakness to accept help from others. We get angry and embarrassed that we can’t drive ourselves to a doctor appointment or pick up our own prescription or make dinner because we are too tired. We want to hide but can’t because we need our community to get through the crisis.

That said, I humbly thank my fundraising community colleagues who have been generously submitting guest posts for me during this time of healing and recovery.

I’m still healing. Four surgeries in two weeks takes a toll on a person AND her family, I might add. But I believe I’ll come out the other side of this adventure a calmer, more compassionate, and more peaceful person.

Once I’m back up to full-strength the buildings I’ll leap may be a few stories shorter but I’ll still wear my cape and expect fundraising miracles. And now I’ll be watching to make sure those being served also receive warm hugs and hand squeezes when I see fear or uncertainty in their eyes.

I hope you will too.

This post was included in Withism’s from Lori: Boldness, Clarity & Wisdom for Fundraising Professionals Making a Difference (Volume 1), now available in paperback, on Kindle, and Nook.