Camp

What was supposed to be an exciting and relaxing weekend for my mother and I turned entirely chaotic on Friday. After a couple college visits in Chicago, we were scheduled to calmly arrive in St. Louis on Friday evening. Things went awry when a man set fire to the radar control center for Chicago airports. Our flight was cancelled. Rescheduled. Cancelled again. Just a few hours before my mom was supposed to be speaking for a couple hundred people in St. Louis. And a couple more hours before I was supposed to be speaking for the entire UBPN (United Brachial Plexus Network) camp. After racing into a too-expensive, smoke-smelling rental car and throwing ourselves in the direction of our destination, we realized we would be too late. Mom missed her speaking gig by a half hour but somehow we arrived at the camp 20 minutes before I was on. My stomach was quietly wishing it was the other way around. How was I supposed to inspire this room full of dozens of strangers? The familiar bend in their elbows and tendency to favor one side was terrifying. Like looking in the mirror to find a stranger. Or a giant room full of them. I hadn't talked to someone else with BPI in years and yet here I was in front of a room full of them tasked with the job to tell them something they hadn't heard before. Tell them something that would change their lives. I had so much to say but suddenly so much of it seemed so arbitrary. Nothing was enough. Like always, words simply weren't enough. But that's all I had. So I spoke. And even though we stayed for less than 24 hours, I'm sure I learned more from the kids, teenagers, and adults than they learned from me in my 30-minute "speech." I was sent to inspire but I was inspired. By the kids playing volleyball by catching. By the adults who hadn't gotten it at birth and had only recently begun their journeys to relearn how to live. By the babies smiling and playing without a worry. And by the teenage girls dealing with being the butt of the joke in high school. I learned from the little stories of compensation and the big stories of overcoming. I had been so focused on what I would say to these people that I hadn't given myself time to think about what I would get out of the weekend. It wouldn't matter because they gave me more than I could've imagined.