I had been in touch with Cheryl from our kiddos' school for the better part of the week, finalizing details on a church/school directory. While browsing through my website, she had noticed that I offer to donate my services for terminally ill children.
"Have you heard of the Chelsea Hicks Foundation?" her email read. Oddly enough, I had. Shopping at our local toy store for a birthday gift just that week prior, the red and white brochure next to the cash register had caught my attention. I picked it up, gave it a quick glance while waiting in line, tucked it into my purse, and then went about my regular chaotic day.
"They are looking for a photographer for their event Saturday evening. Its a Masquerade Ball, held at the Governor Hotel downtown. Might you be interested?"
I can't, I thought to myself.
"Why not?" My matter-of-fact husband replied.
"I am a family photographer. An outside photographer. A natural light photographer. I just don't do events like these."
"You do weddings. How is this any different?"
"It JUST is! Regardless, I have two shoots already scheduled for that day. I wouldn't be able to make it anyhow."
"The forecast is calling for a rainy weekend. Your outdoor shoots will be canceled anyways."
"I don't even own slacks!"
"Well, you can always go buy some. You love to shop."
He had me there.
I was out of excuses. Don't get me wrong, its not that I wouldn't want to help with something like this. Truth be told, it is exactly where my heart lies, but I couldn't bear the thought of not capturing the night as well as it should be. Not with something like this.
When the Hicks family lost their young daughter to cancer in 2009, they devoted themselves to improving the lives of the many children still undergoing treatment. Their goal was simple-to bring a bit of laughter, hope and healing through Chelsea's Closet, a lovingly orchestrated time of dress up, arts and crafts, hospital parades and tea parties.
The auctioneer announced that the foundation's goal was to make $10,000 from this event. Alison Hicks had high hopes of achieving $30,000, but never believed it possible. Arms flew in a flurry of auction cards, numbers called out quicker than I could keep up with. It reached a point in which my goosebumps started growing goosebumps as the numbers went higher and higher, raised emphatically in the spirit of something much greater than season ballgame tickets or a prized piece of jewelry.
It was far more incredible than I could have imagined. Costumes were done to a T, guests conversed as if they were all childhood friends, tabletop decorations rivaled that of some of the most elaborate weddings that I have attended. I caught myself holding back tears as they played a slideshow, but as I turned to take my next shot, realized that I was in good company.
You see, these guests weren't there for good wine, vacation packages, or expensive gift baskets. They were there to support what has become an amazing foundation, one that changes the lives of sick children like we'll never know. If tears hadn't flowed prior, there were more than enough to go around as the evening rolled to an end, and the auctioneer announced what had been raised.
$50,000.
Goosebumps return as I type this number. A mind-numbing amount to get this foundation off the ground, not only in the local Portland Doernbecher Children's Hospital that it was started in, but to have them in pediatric oncology units across the country.
Kudos to you, Alison Hicks, for dreaming just as your daughter would have.
Slideshow here.
