What I learned from my daughter's run

My oldest daughter is participating in the CIBC Run for the Cure this coming weekend. It's the second time she has chosen to do the charity walk/run raising money for breast cancer research, and I have to say, I'm a very proud father that she has decided to be an active member of our community.

Her aunt, my sister-in-law, is a breast cancer survivor, so there's a personal connection providing some extra motivation. We all know someone, or several people, who have fought the battle. Fortunately, more have won than lost thanks to support of research.

Seeing all the people and hearing the stories is more than a bit inspirational. So, here's a short list of things my daughter has taught me by participating in the run:

Little people can do big things

Being at the event is really moving. Seeing the survivors and the families affected is really emotional. There are teams of people and individuals, all with moving stories of why they are there. But it is the young people, like my daughter, who made an impression on me—little people making a big difference

Making it easy to give makes it, well, easy to give

When I did fundraising for activities, charities or sports teams growing up, it was grunt work—going door-to-door with pledge sheets, raffle tickets, chocolate covered almonds or asking for bottles. The whole idea was to make it easy for people to give. You didn't have to do anything other than open he door, then open our wallet.

Now, a nice easy website lets you tap away on your tablet to support a worthy cause.

Shy people step into the spotlight in their own way

Despite being one of the loudest people on earth, my daughter is quite shy in public. But she puts that aside to support a good cause. She's willing to step out of her comfort zone in her own way. This year, she's even talking about wearing a pink costume of some sort. We'll see if that's just big talk or not.

Personal connections are a key to participation

Would she have participated if her aunt didn't have breast cancer? Maybe. But she didn't hesitate when she made the personal connection with a family member. We're all more likely to do something when we're personally invested.

Children are the present, not the future of our communities

I'm kinda tired of hearing that our young people are our future. I get the concept of that. But they are here today. They are vital members of our communities today. And we should foster their participation, involvement and leadership in our communities today.

In case you missed the subtle link to support the run, here it is again.

There's something to be said for routine

These three words evoke joy, excitement, anticipation and trepidation: back to school.

Yes, it happened this past week. The freedom of running around the neighbourhood with friends all day and staying up late has given way to routine and schedules. Back to bedtimes. Back to waking up on time. Back to making lunches. Back to homework. Back to school.

And it's back to blogging after a little summer hiatus.

We tend to mourn the end of summer. Not just because it's back to school; the days are getting shorter and some people are starting to use the s-word already (that'd be snow, clean up your mind). We seem to mourn the loss of freedom, or at least the perception of the loss of freedom, to some degree.

But there's something to be said for the constraints of routine—specifically the routine of my prayer life.

This summer we went camping for a week. Now, camping is where routine doesn't exist. Camping alters the space-time-continuum. Watches and clocks are rendered useless. You're on camping time.

One of the uniquely shaped twisted trees in the
lodgepole pine forest of Cypress Hills Provincial Park

One of the benefits of camping time is you have no schedules. There is no bedtime because you need to spend a good amount of time by the campfire, and it doesn't get dark until 10:30 or 11 pm. No bedtime means no alarms—except those four tiny human alarms, but even they started sleeping in, respecting the rules of camping time. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are mere guidelines for eating. You kinda feel like a hobbit having second breakfast and other made-up mealtimes just because you can.

Unfortunately, the victim in this timeless universe is my spiritual life. Sure, I go into it with good intentions. Keep, even increase, my regular prayer time. Pray the rosary more. Catch-up on some spiritual reading. Just hang with my buddy Jesus for a while each day. Re-read the summa. After all, I'm on camping time. I can do it all. (OK, I didn't have any intention of re-reading the summa. And "re" may be a little misleading since I haven't read it. Mere symmantics.) But you know what they say about good intentions. No? Look it up.

So the return to routine is often what my spiritual life needs. I set aside the necessary time each (most) morning. Nighttime family prayer returns in full force. I turn to Jesus throughout the day, just knowing He is there loving me, forgiving me, strengthening me.

Oh, how I love camping time. But there's something to be said for routine and a healthy soul.