My youngest son, Joel, has been raising donations for the American Cancer Society for several months. The culmination of that effort was to be the organization’s annual Black & White Ball that was to be held this Saturday night. Unfortunately, it, like so many other meaningful events has been cancelled due to Covid. Joel is a cancer survivor. Saturday night he, along with a number of survivors, he was supposed to share is story with attendees. That is what motivated me to resurrect an Inspiration from January 2011 when we as a family stared this terrible disease in the face. It isn’t Joel saga it is ours. Please support the American Cancer Society.
I’m sure you have heard the term “arrogance of power” used before. Most often it is applied to political leaders, but it certainly can apply to a broader audience than that. I learned this week that it defines me.
For over thirty years I have been a manager, a leader, a mover and a shaker. I have attained financial success and become fairly renown as a result of my skills. I didn’t make it on luck. I made luck happen. I’ve invested all of my fiber and being into becoming the best at what I do. I’ve helped build the largest and most successful real estate company in our region. I am known locally, statewide and even nationally as an authority in my field. Without a doubt, in my mind, most of the importance in my life I’ve attained through my business prowess. My corporate or business self has pretty much defined who I am. And, as that success and stature grew so has my ego. Interestingly, I’ve never seen myself a self-centered or egotistical. At least that’s what I told myself.
Recently a grand opportunity to test all of my skills arose when our company became a party in the acquisition of another real estate company in our marketplace. In mid-December we began those negotiations. This culminated in a general agreement being finalized on December 30th. Over the next three weeks I was involved in all of the planning details for the announcement and subsequent assimilation of the company agents and staff into our organization. There was a very short time-line and so much to do. As it has been throughout my career, I was not, nor couldn’t, handle all of the details. My competent and dedicated staff would carry most of that burden assisted by the wonderful management team of the company we were acquiring. My role was more akin to a conductor of an orchestra. That’s my element. I had to know the overall score. I have responsibility for defining and understanding each of the player’s parts. I must listen to their various tunes and meld them into one cohesive melody. If any problem areas developed, I must solve them. Finally, I must lead the orchestra through the final performance, controlling and directing their tempo and delivery. This is my element – vision, planning, deciding, execution and, most important, control. I am a master of control.
The short period afforded between the agreement and the public announcement made for long hours and stress, but this only fed my ego. At the inception, the number of details that needed to be attended to seemed insurmountable, however as that date drew closer and closer, I became confident we were going to pull it off. On the Friday evening before the Tuesday morning announcement event, I was driving home exhausted, but convinced that all the wheels were turning in the right direction and I was smug in that familiar feeling that I had everything under control. Little did I know as I walked into my home that all those wheels that I guided so expertly throughout my life were about come flying off.
As entered the door and my wife’s eyes met mine, I immediately knew something was wrong. My first thought was that it was a bottle that I had accidently knocked off a shelf at lunchtime and left on the floor of our pantry with no note of explanation as to “who” or “why.” I had been just too busy to clean it up. Surely she would understand. I immediately began my defense. “I’m sorry about not cleaning up the mess,” I said. Strangely, her response was not normal. Instead, her eyes had the look of the proverbial “deer in the headlight.” Her voice cracking, she replied, “That’s not it. They found cancer in Joel.”
Joel is my youngest son. He’s 29 years old. He is the father of my 10 month old grandson. We knew he had been experiencing some urological issues earlier in the week. He had consulted with my father-in-law, a retired physician, and subsequently, with my brother, a urologist. We knew all this. But everything up to this point indicated that this was nothing to worry about. It was just an infection. IT WASN”T CANCER!!
Suddenly, I felt my wheels starting to come off.
That night, Joel, his wife, Melanie, my grandson, Grayson and my other son, Justin came over. We talked very little about the “elephant in the room,” but very little. We just wanted to be together. I could not find my self-assured, in control persona. My wheels were still coming off.
Later, my brother, Frank and his wife Miki came by. Frank assured us that he was confident that he could remove the tumor completely and that Joel would be cured. He was so confident, so self-assured. It was comforting, but not for me. My wheels were still coming off.
That night, though exhausted from work, and emotionally drained, I couldn’t sleep. I found myself in a completely foreign world. A world where I had no control, no power, no solution, no ability and no confidence. I was involved in the most significant situation of my life and I was useless. My wheels were totally off.
Joel’s surgery was scheduled for Wednesday. The announcement of the company acquisition was Tuesday. I was operating on a business level on Monday and Tuesday, but it was totally by autopilot. There was no ego tripping. It was just going through the motions. Everything went off as planned, but not because of me. My partners, staff and agents were conducting the orchestra.
I was no longer leading the train. I was just along for the ride. Cargo. My wheels were nowhere to be found.
On Wednesday, Stephanie and I got to the hospital at 6:30 a.m. Joel and Melanie arrived shortly after. He got dressed in his garb. We talked. The Chaplin came in and we prayed. I prayed. It was a prayer of one who feels helpless. Not hopeless, but helpless. Justin arrived with Melanie’s mother, Martha.
Finally, around 10:00 a.m., Joel was wheeled out to surgery. His wheels were still on. Mine where long gone.
Throughout the next two hours, Frank sent reports in that the surgery was going well. We felt more confident with each communication.
We also felt a palpable warmth and peace envelope us. It undoubtedly was the hand of God summoned by the scores of friends who were holding all of us up in their thoughts and prayers. I began to feel that the wheels were back on and turning in my life. They just weren’t my wheels anymore.
The surgery was successful. My brother got all of that evil cancer out of my son. His thoroughness initially discovered the tumor and his skillful hand excised it. He saved my son! Thank God for guiding him. Thank God for all who held us up in prayer. Thank God! His wheels were securely in place and turning smoothly.
And, thank God for humbling me!
The reward of humility and fear of the Lord is riches, honor and life. Proverbs 22:4
Have an awe-full weekend!
William “Bill” Bacque