Healing Through Acts of Service

Service to others may well be the greatest treatment for nearly any ailment. When we serve others, we can immerse ourselves in the needs and life and struggles of another human being. The service allows us freedom from our own turmoils or sufferings and gifts us with a time of giving.

Special Day for Special People

Special Day is a service event, held the third Sunday of August every year. It has run for 34 years and shows no signs of stopping. Brenda is the founder of Special Day for Special People. She has a daughter with developmental challenges and saw the need for an event that celebrated all the joys so many of us take for granted. A day with no limits and no judgments. A day of infectious joy and happiness and wonderment.

We have gone to “Special Day for Special People” for 17 or 18 years. We have not missed a year since we were first invited and have moved heaven and earth, and woke up at 1 in the morning to make it, but we have made it!

Brenda works all year to gather donations and secure help, parties like there is no tomorrow for one day, and then starts over. She recruits truckers, firefighters, police, bikers, clowns, and pro wrestlers. She brings tons of food and face paint to the fairgrounds and spends the day riding her golf cart around, making sure everyone is laughing and smiling.

A ride no matter the limitation

I have a “trike,” (a three-wheeled motorcycle’). Picture “Mad Max” with bib overalls and a grey beard. The trike is my own creation. A hand-built beast with a V8 engine and a rear-end we snagged out to a junkyard. The seats come from a tractor supply store, and the frame is raw steel. It is one of a kind and beautifully ugly. I have spray painted just enough green paint on it to make the color on the registration true; the rest is all midwestern rust. What it really is, is a motorcycle anyone can ride on. No matter the challenge or the limitation, we can find a way to get you on and give you a ride.

Once the wrestlers have finished and lunch has been served, the rides begin. A ramp has been built to allow folks to walk up and step into a firetruck or a semi without climbing. The guests can ride and play with the horns and sirens and lights. One year, there were stock cars and even a helicopter. Often, there will be a police car or two giving rides.

The motorcycle line

Just across from the truck line, there is the motorcycle line. All the bikes that arrive line up. Everyone who has an old helmet brings it, and those without bikes line up to help get helmets on. One by one, guests climb aboard, many for the first time. It is hard to describe the scene. Riders who have thousands of dollars in chrome and custom paint smile and reassure as a disabled rider steps everywhere but the footpegs. Two men help hold the bike steady while two more help the passenger get on and seated. I have seen a lot of minor damage and scrapes and dents on the bikes, but never have I seen a smile leave a rider's face. Once the passenger is settled, away they go. The ride is maybe 5 minutes around a cornfield, but for those 5 minutes, everything is right with the world.

Giving rides on the trike

The trike is for anyone to ride, but often the folks that line up to ride with me cannot get on a conventional motorcycle. But the trike is stable and we can accommodate anyone. We have lifted folks out of wheelchairs and had someone ride on the back bumper to hold them. We have had mothers hold small kids on their laps. Anyone who wants to ride will get a ride. Around and around we go. Never over 15 miles an hour, slower if my passenger is scared. For most of the years we have gone, I have been the first ride and am usually giving rides long after the bikes have retired. This year, I burned 4 gallons of gas going in a 1/2 mile loop. That is a lot of loops.

A day of freedom

Some may see this as serving others and maybe it is that too, but it is a day of freedom for me. Freedom from any concerns. On this day there is no bladder cancer, no scopes, no appointments. No recurrence rates or secondary cancers. On the third Sunday in August, there are friends, new and old, who sit behind me and laugh and giggle or sit quietly in amazed wonder as we roll past the corn and feel the sunshine on our faces. This day is filled with hugs and high fives and laughter and an unashamed joy, so rare that it would seem misplaced in our daily comings and goings.

This year, I will extend the seat to make getting on easier and build a small ramp so my friends won’t have to step up. I will also have my scope and my days of fear and worry. Then on the third Sunday of August, I will point the trike south and go to the place where cancer doesn’t exist.

Service can vanish cancer worries

Find a place of service. Something you are passionate about and watch your cancer worries vanish for a time. Service may well be the best treatment I have ever received.