A Letter to Hugh –

Dear Son,

I am writing this letter to you because, years from now, I want you to remember a very special day. I want you to remember the day you had a lemonade stand to raise money for JDRF.

It was a drizzly summer day – the kind of days that happen often in June in Louisiana. The grass was wet and soft from a morning shower, the air was hot and sticky. Our hair clung to our foreheads and the back of our necks before we even started. The birds were splashing in the rain puddles in the driveway. The air smelled slightly of jasmine and wet grass. And I was secretly afraid that no one would show up because the weather was just not conducive to a lemonade stand kind of day.

But then we had our first customers – neighbors and friends from down the street who couldn’t stay for a cup of lemonade, but wanted to make a donation anyway. Our second customer was a friend from church, who came to buy lemonade but also brought us fresh squash and cucumbers (be very glad you live in the South, where people love to share the bounties of their summer gardens). Our third customer was a three year old, who sat in a chair on our front porch and devoured a tea cookie as big as both his hands. Our fourth customers were friends and neighbors who raised a son with Type 1 Diabetes 40 years ago, and they are all strong and gracious and wonderful people who encourage us constantly.

I lost count after that. But I can tell you that we had more people come to your lemonade stand than I could have possibly dreamed of. We had neighbors who walked and rode their bikes. We had Mommy’s and Daddy’s friends from high school. We had new friends. We had strangers who happened to hear about the lemonade stand and want to donate. We had your school friends and your school nurses. We had co-workers. We had aunts and uncles and cousins. We had Daddy’s family who drove 2 HOURS just to come buy some lemonade! We had teachers. We even had a few dogs. And right when we thought our lemonade stand was winding down, we had a whole mass of people from our church show up after a funeral – Buying lemonade in their suits and high heels, standing in wet grass and 100% humidity.

Some people lingered on our front porch – sipping lemonade and visiting. Some people stopped by quickly and only stayed a few minutes. There were children there who had brought their own money to buy a cup of lemonade. There were adults there who pulled out their wallets and were so generous it made my eyes water. People rocked in our rocking chairs and kids ran in the rain. That day, our front porch became one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen.

And the money didn’t stop there. People pressed it into my palm the next day at church. We received money in the mail the next week. People from other churches donated. Some donated online. One lady who barely makes it month to month while trying to raise her grandchildren gave us $5 – the widow’s mite if I have ever seen one. Our goal of raising $100 was blown out of the water and we raised over $1,500!

That afternoon, as we were putting away the tables and chairs, you and your Daddy counted the money. When we realized it was over $1,000, we all started laughing and jumping up and down and hugging. And then you stopped, looked up at me mid-hug, and almost whispered “Is that enough for a cure?”

I didn’t know what to say to you in that moment. So I just squeezed you tight and told you that it would certainly help. I told you that organizations like JDRF are working so hard to find a cure and any money we can give them is wonderful.

But what I should have told you is this:

Today is the cure.

Because there will be times in your life when diabetes gets really hard. Type 1 Diabetes is not easy, it’s not fair, there are no time-outs, and it is an exhausting burden to carry. But when that burden gets too big, remember the lemonade stand day.

Remember your sister, who stayed by your side the entire day. She was just as excited as you. She baked cookies and made signs. She collected money and never stopped for a break. She is your cure.

Remember both sets of your grandparents, who sat out in the heat and humidity the entire time. They helped make the lemonade, ran last minute errands for us, and stayed late to help us clean up. They are your cure.

Remember the church members, who came to buy lemonade and cookies while wearing funeral clothes. They know that sometimes life is mourning those who have left us while loving and supporting those who are still with us. Church is your cure.

Years from now, when you are on your own and away from me, and diabetes becomes too hard, and you just wish you didn’t have to poke your finger one more time or calculate every food that you have to eat, and all you want is a cure – know that you have already found one.

And when others come to you, and tell you their burdens are too big, and their problems are too hard, I hope you tell them the story of the lemonade stand day. I hope you tell them how our family was healed that day. I hope you tell them that people are good and kind and generous.

And if they ask you for a cure, I hope you tell them the cure is this – we are never alone.

                                                                     Love, Mom

*To find out more about JDRF and what your money goes to support, click here.