The Sojourn to Slam

I’m hopping mad.  That’s right, hopping mad.  And it’s not every day that happens—like when I ask my kids to do something for the 5^th time.  I’m pretty chill for times 1 to 4, but when number 5 rolls around, I go nuclear.

So why am I hopping mad right now?  It should have started when I was listening to a leader from our church speak some time ago about the refugee crisis.  I learned there are 60 million refugees in the world today, or 1 in every 122 people have been forced to flee their home.  What’s more daunting?  Half of these are children.  It’s hard to imagine 30 million children without a home!  For perspective it’s like Chicago, New York City, and greater Los Angeles combined, or just a little less than the entire population of Canada.  “Somebody should really do something about that; it’s a humanitarian crisis,” I thought to myself as I puttered into the kitchen to look for some Double Stuff Oreos, and later settled in for an afternoon nap on the couch.

Somebody did do something, but that somebody wasn’t me.

That somebody was my wife, Heather.  A day later, thoughts of the refugee crisis were no longer on my radar, but for her the fire was kindling, and before long, she was on a mission to do more than just empathize, but to do something to realize a better future for these individuals who are in the direst of circumstances.

She embarked on a journey to find ways she could meaningfully contribute to refugees in our area, which led her to the International Rescue Committee (IRC) based in Seattle.  The IRC is a global, non-profit organization that “responds to the world’s worst humanitarian crises and helps people whose lives and livelihoods are shattered by conflict and disaster to survive, recover, and gain control of their future.”  The State Department partners with and provides significant funding to the IRC to aid with refugee relocation in the US.  I watched as Heather did little things to help the IRC in Seattle: a coat drive and move to a new office.  My interest was piqued, but to be honest, I wasn’t mad just yet; however, a breakthrough occurred when she coordinated a substantial donation drive for the IRC in partnership with Studio C, a popular comedy troupe.  We got to know wonderful, selfless individuals at the IRC on a more personal level, which opened additional opportunities.

At this point, I felt the temperature rising underneath my collar a little while I still contemplated the work it would take to get involved.  My track record for helping non-profits wasn’t exactly stellar, dating back to when I sold “The World’s Best Chocolate” for the Cub Scouts.  I ended up eating most of the chocolate and donating all my paper route money in the process, but the more I learned about the IRC, the madder I got...and that Oreo nap was becoming less appealing.  This all lead to one experience that humanized the entire refugee crisis for me; the moment I started to get mad, hopping mad.

The IRC in Seattle works miracles with limited budget to provide critical services to newly relocating refugees: trauma counseling, employment services, help with schools, and English tutoring, the list goes on.  Heather found us an opportunity to help the IRC setup an apartment for Syrian mother and father and their two girls ages 5 and 4 who had just arrived in the country with nothing but the basics.

With neighbors and friends, we collected donated furniture and other household items, and spent part of a day staging the modest apartment in anticipation of their arrival.   Our children lovingly arranged Piglet, Eeyore, and Winnie the Pooh along other simple toys for the two little girls; each bed was perfectly made; each lamp meticulously placed.  We wanted every inch of the apartment to say “welcome” as they arrived exhausted, completing a journey of a year or more to get here—on the cusp of starting a journey to make a new life that will take years to complete.

A week or so later upon getting an email from the IRC, it all came together for me.  It contained a picture of the family, two loving parents and their adorable little girls—smiling ear-to- ear.  A smile that radiated from within.  When I saw the other pictures of the little girls playing with their toys, I couldn’t help but tear up.  I didn’t know this family, but suddenly it felt like “our family.”  For us, readying the apartment was a few phone calls and a morning of our time; for them, it was a home and a refuge—it was everything.

In that moment, something changed inside of me.  I knew I wanted to do more, I needed to help more.  I hungered to get out of my comfort zone, dump those Oreos on my couch, douse them in kerosene and light them all on fire.  I was mad, hopping mad.

Soon after, the idea for Mad Hops 4 Humanity was born.  The premise is simple: dunk a basketball in 4 months on my 44^th birthday to raise $44,000 all 4 the International Rescue Committee in Seattle.  For a “just-shy-of-6-feet,” washed-up basketball player, the challenge to dunk a basketball at my age is real. For the IRC, the challenge is even more real.  Forty-four thousand dollars will be a game-changer for the IRC, allowing them to purchase and maintain a passenger van. Refugees need transportation services from the moment their plane touches down, until they can get their feet under them some months later.  To say transportation is a lifeline is an understatement—it can make a huge difference for many.

As I begin this 4-month journey, I’ll be posting regularly on my blog and in social media about my “sojourn to slam,” raising awareness about the plight of refugees internationally as well as needs right in our own backyard.  I hope you’ll generously share updates with friends, family, and colleagues.

•            Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/madhops4humanity/

•            Twitter: https://twitter.com/madhops4human

•            Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/MadHops4Humanity/

Feel the need to get hopping mad?  You’ve got four months to train to dunk whatever it is you want to dunk – a toy basketball on a Fisher Price hoop or a maple bar in your hot cocoa.  I would love to see a video of your dunk on D-day.

Mad Hops 4 Humanity.  Let’s get mad.