Sherri D: Powerless

Powerless
by Sherri D.

Powerless. That’s how I feel – absolutely powerless. It’s not a feeling I highly recommend. It’s reduced me to tears more times than I like to recall, today being one of them.

I want something. I want something so bad that it aches. It churns and churns, and it rattles around inside my head and I can’t let it go. And, as much as it hurts, I don’t really want to let it go. In fact, I’m holding on to it with all my might. Because I want it with every ounce and fiber of my being.

And what is it I want? I want to fulfill my dream, my idea. I want to use my voice to make a difference, using a talent I possess in this grand scheme I have. It’s a fundraiser – an idea that I’ve shared with Fran [Skinner-Lewis, Executive Director of the Bubel/Aiken Foundation]. An idea she and I first discussed in December of 2003. An idea she said she loved. She asked for my resume, she had all kinds of supporting ideas. We talked for 20 minutes like we were old friends, brainstorming, tweaking the idea. She said the Foundation could use the plan in the future. She told me to keep in touch.

Fast forward a bit. Camp Gonzo is created. Inside my head, here comes Associated Dream, Deepest Desire No. 2. My local Y, my home away from home, my Y that I so love – I want my Y to be a pilot Y for Camp Gonzo. So I get to work. I make my every-3 to 4-month-call to Fran. I tell her more about my Y and the inclusion plans we have. I tell her we’re committed to the concept. I ask how my Y can be a pilot Y. I’m told the Foundation is being inundated with requests. I implore my Y’s Executive Director to send a letter, an official request for consideration. Of course, I’m too impatient to wait for him to write the letter so before the next day is over, I’ve written it and submitted it to him for embellishments and signature. We add pictures, and statistics, and facts about the Y, and before the week is through, the package (holding my hopes and dreams) is in the mail.

But we get no response. No acknowledgement of its receipt. No indication of interest at all. I’m not surprised. It seems return contact of any kind from the Foundation is extremely limited. It’s difficult to have Fran return a call. Not impossible, but difficult. I’m sure the Foundation’s staff is stretched to the limit. But it’s part of that ache. The insane waiting. The waiting that I’ve lived with every day since December 16, 2003, not knowing if the Foundation will truly be able to utilize my fundraising idea as it’s needs and focus change as it develops and grows. Not knowing if my local Y will even be considered for selection as a pilot Y for Camp Gonzo. It’s all out of my control, out of my hands, and all I can do . . . is pray.

But prayer is mighty powerful. So I pray, every day, that the God who knows everything about me, who knows my deepest desires, will allow those desires to be His will as well as mine. I pray that I can use this idea to “find my voice.” I pray for His guidance – to help me speak with intelligence, passion and sincerity when I gather up the courage to make “the call” to Fran. I pray that He gives me the right “nudge” now and again, to stir me to action when I get afraid or when I just want to give up. I ask for true passion and commitment, I ask for insight and vision. Sometimes my prayer is reduced to simple surrender on my part, just asking God to “help me” in whatever form that may take. And. finally, I ask that my motives be true -- because I am honest enough with myself to know that a part of this is about the huge desire I have to meet Clay, a man whom I so admire, a man I consider to be a remarkable gift from God.

So there it is. In black and white. I needed to write this today. Needed to get it all out – Writing for Therapy 101. The ache is strong today. I made “the call” on Monday. (“Hi Fran, it’s S. D. . . . we got 50-60 kids with developmental disabilities in our camps this year . . . we got a new lift and ramp for our pool . . . we’re planning an event for “kids of all abilities” later in the fall . . . when will you be selecting pilot Ys for 2006?) It always hurts for a few days after I call. I don’t really expect a return response. But the hope is always there (“maybe she’ll call today”). My heart races when I see a missed call, only to quickly return to normal when I recognize the number as an out-of-town business connection. And so, I go on. I listen to “You Were There” four times in a row on my way to work today, tears coming to my eyes. I get all atwitter about tour press releases, and TV Guide appearances, and my trip to Tom’s River in two weeks. And I love my Clayfriends, my Divas, with all my heart. They lift my spirits and share my excitement, and put up with my hyperness, and listen to me whine and lessen the ache on the days when it threatens to overtake me. Thanks for being there, Divas -- thanks for listening. You are all blessings to me.

Oh, and by the way, I feel better now.
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Copyright 2005 by Sherri D. Printed with the permission of the writer.