I’ve spent much of this week thinking about the message I want my daughter-in-law’s 5th graders to take away from the time we spend talking about “The Giving Tree” in her virtual classroom tomorrow. I always consider it a unique privilege to speak to impressionable hearts, especially when they belong to young people who are at such a critical time in their “growing up” – when the sheen of innocence is beginning to wear off and the transition to teenage-hood is just around the corner. And, given all the challenges 2020 has presented, I can’t think of a more important literary character to shine a spotlight on The Tree. Truth is: The preparation was going along quite swimmingly until about 5 minutes ago, when I reached into my “Keepsake Bin”, pulled out a barely used copy of the book, and found these words written almost six (6) years ago to the day on two folded pieces of paper tucked inside the cover.
Acceptance Remarks – Sierra Tucson “Gratitude for Giving” Breakfast (12/5/14):
It may surprise some of you to learn that one of the most polarizing characters, real or fictional, in the history of literature is not a person. It’s a Tree! – Shel Silverstein’s Giving Tree to be more precise.
If you don’t believe me, I encourage you to take this innocent-looking little green children’s book to a local street corner, pick a 100 people at random, have them read it (it only take a few minutes!) and then ask them how they feel about the Tree.
If they’re like most, more than 50% will begin their response with a scowl, followed by a raising of their voice (and their blood pressure!) and, before they’re done, they’ll be downright angry – at a Tree!
Why? Because there are a lot of people in the world – good and well-meaning people – who believe that there are limits to giving, especially when it’s unreciprocated or, worse yet, un- or under- acknowledged, and to our capacity to give.
I’m not one of those people, nor, thankfully, were the small group of women who stood by my daughter’s side during her 5½ year, life-and-death battle with anorexia, two of whom – my wife, Cyndy, and Dr. Jen Nardozzi – are here this morning.
Like the Tree, they were afforded countless reasons and opportunities to stop giving, to stop showing up, to stop sacrificing pieces of themselves in the hope that it would make another whole – and no one would have blamed them if they did – but they didn’t.
Instead, they kept their eyes fixed on the prize: A gentle, beautiful, creative heart buried beneath a mountain of lies and distortions, gasping for air, struggling to regain a foothold – and they fully committed themselves to setting it free, no matter what or how long it took.
Our daughter is alive today, against considerable medical odds, because of their steadfast, unconditional, and, at times, sacrificial love.
Ladies and gentlemen, I’m grateful and humbled to be recognized in this way, but I’m even more grateful for the opportunity this honor affords me to publicly thank these two woman and all those in this room who have dedicated their lives to helping others navigate the highly-complex and emotionally-exhausting world that is mental illness.
I know how difficult it can be to have a giver’s heart, particularly in the mental health arena, where “progress” is often barely perceptible and words of gratitude are often a rare commodity. But I urge you to keep fighting, to keep showing up, to keep giving, to keep hoping, and, above all else, to keep loving – even when it’s hard … especially when it’s hard.
Because I believe, in the end, Love Wins!
I’m pretty sure I know what I want to say to Emma’s tribe now. I just hope these not-totally-appropriate-for-the-office tears subside long enough for me to say it.
donblackwell 