The response today from the college service was overwhelming. While I knew some of them, I didn’t have any real semblance of a relationship with most of the people in that room, and yet out of a room of 25 people or so we had 18 people register to be donors. It wasn’t what I was expecting.
Coupled with some of the people that met up with me earlier this week to register, that brings the total for this week up to 35.
Our parents’ generation is not our generation. A lack of minority donors doesn’t have to be a problem that persists in our lifetime.
I knew it was true. I knew it.
It’s 11:xx PM on Saturday evening, and in 9-some hours I’m running another marrow drive at my home church. The hope this time is to speak to some of the college kids who are back for the holiday.
I’ve been in this position before. Music playing quietly from my speakers, reclining in my chair and looking at the ceiling, trying to determine exactly what the appropriate message is for the audience I’ll be speaking to. Not that I have a huge amount of time to speak — I’m guessing 5 minutes — but I’ve come to learn that 5 minutes isn’t a short amount of time, either. It’s enough time for one emotion. But what emotion should it be?
Eventually the words will come, I’ll play with them a bit and I’ll go to sleep semi-ready for tomorrow. I’ll look over the words a couple times tomorrow morning and then service will come and I’ll do my thing.
I wonder where those words come from. It’s not as if I have some overarching speaking strategy when it comes to specific demographics. But I do know what I say tomorrow to the college kids won’t be the same as what I said to the adults a couple months ago. I have a feeling, from somewhere, for some reason, that the message for the adults is not the one that the college kids need to hear. They need to hear something different.
I’m not sure why I feel that way, but the feeling is very real.