Jordan Bartlett
Jul 20, 2017 · 7 min read

Dinner at the Ronald McDonald House!

When I moved out to California, I moved away from all of my friends and family. It was an exciting move, but also a little bit scary. I was working in a new office and had new roommates. Just about everything was new, save my dependable Ford Explorer (which didn’t last long). I wanted to find new ways to get out and make friends. It was easy to make friends in college. There was nothing else to do but go out with you boys and cause some mayhem. The next day you woke up, went to class for two hours, took a nap, went to the gym, took another nap and caused more mayhem.

Life after college was much different. You had to remember check the mail every day (ish). Five days out of every week you had to be rocked out of a solid REM cycle by the ear splitting shrill of an IKEA alarm clock. For the next eight hours you had to make sure you didn’t spill anything on your over-starched shirt and look somewhat presentable in case a senior executive decided to get on the elevator with you. These things make it hard to find time to cause mayhem and meet new friends.

I read an article that said ‘successful’ people joined the Board of Directors for local non-profits. I then Googled ‘non-profit’ and learned that they are organizations that are set up to accept donations to solve the world’s problems. The world seemed to have some pretty big problems, and I didn’t have a ton of time outside of waking up on time, not spilling things and looking presentable five days a week. But I decided to keep it in the back of my mind in case I found some spare time on my calendar.

One day I was approached by a coworker to join her at the Ronald McDonald House for dinner to learn more about their organization and ways to get involved. This particular coworker was tall, beautiful, smart and funny. I played it cool and said I would check my (clearly wide open) schedule. Turns out I had the time!

The Ronald McDonald House is a ‘home away from home’ for families who had children being treated at local hospitals. I arrived after another long day at work and was ready to eat some dinner and be told how great of a person I was for taking time out of my day to show up for this organization. I made sure to get there at the time I was told, but none of the food had even begun to be prepared. The chicken was still frozen! That’s when I realized I was not here to eat, I was here to cook.

I entered the kitchen and it was already buzzing with activity. There several people in there and the friendly murmuring interrupted every so often by a quick burst of laughter signaled that it was a group that was familiar with each other. There was one man in the middle of the mix handing out vegetables and instruction to those on his left and right. He seemed to be in charge. He had a newscaster hair cut that was parted on his right side and precisely combed in a cresting wave just above his forehead. He had button up shirt that had tight white and blue stripes, pleated slacks and brown shoes on his feat. I would not have been surprised if he was also in the insurance industry, or some other type of financial service company. He looked up and must have noticed the somewhat bewildered look on my face, as he smiled and welcomed me to the House. He had a very inviting tone to his voice, almost like a pastor, as he gave me a run down of the House rules and the menu for the night. He then introduced me to the others in the group.

The menu included several pounds of chicken breasts that were being seasoned and laid out on cookie sheets to be placed in the oven, mountains of vegetables that were being chopped and prepped for steaming, potatoes being wrapped in foil before being baked. There was also a salad being tossed in a giant bowl and fruit being cut up for a fruit salad. Being a bachelor for the past eight years, I had no idea how to cook for more than one person! But I played it cool. That coworker was also there, and girls LOVE when guys are helping out the community.

It was by far the fanciest kitchen I had ever worked in. There was a counter at the front of the kitchen where we would put the food for the guests to pick up in a buffet style. Behind the counter, there was one of two stoves that had eight electric burners. All of the pots and pans were kept below this stove. There was counter space and two sinks surrounded this stove, which was an island. On the left side of the kitchen is the first refrigerator, which has labeled baskets of food meant for patients with high allergy needs. Farther to the back is another refrigerator that could be used by everyone. Also along the back wall was another stovetop with four additional burners and a third sink. All of the cabinets are a bright white wood finish and the countertops were gray granite.

As everyone settled into their cooking duties, I began to listen in to some of the conversations going on around the kitchen. Even though there were several conversations going on simultaneously, one voice seemed to stand out the entire time. Ironically, it was the voice of the smallest person in the kitchen. She talked about students at Chapman University where she worked, fellow patrons at her church, and many other topics throughout the night. She captured everyone’s attention and kept it throughout the entire cooking process.

As the clock struck 6pm, we laid out all of the food for the guests. We cooked a mountain of food. Baked chicken and potatoes, steamed vegetables, salad and fruit filled the House with the smell of a storybook home-cooked meal. We could have fed Napoleon’s army with the amount of food we prepared. I was pretty proud of how many people we were going to be able to feed with this feast.

By 6:30 only two people had showed up to eat. By 7pm, the food started to look cold and lonely. All the excitement built up in the hustle and bustle of cooking seemed to have been deflated. While the mission of the Ronald McDonald House seemed awesome, I began to think there had to be better ways to make an impact and get involved. In an effort to not let the entire meal go to waste, we lined up and filled out own plates high with food. We took seats and a buzz of chatter started up again, although with much less zest than at the beginning of the night.

Madison, the young lady who was the center of attention throughout the first couple of hours, began to tell a small group of us why she volunteers at the House. Madison was diagnosed with neuroblastoma when she was very young. At that time, neuroblastoma was as good as a death sentence. It is almost always detected in the first 18 months of a young person’s life and tends to be stage 4 by the time it is found. Even today, while very rare, it is a very scary diagnosis. Madison’s family lived in rural Indiana. Many doctors told her mother it was nothing too serious, but she knew something was not right. Finally a doctor told her she needed to get Madison to the Los Angeles Children’s Hospital, where they were better equipped to help her daughter. Madison has since told me this was one of the first times she opened up and shared her story. I didn’t touch my food, I was hanging on every word she was saying throughout the story.

I did not notice that someone else had come into the kitchen and begun filling up two plates of food. When Madison finished her story, I looked up and noticed the newcomers face strained with pain and anguish that can only come from watching a loved one in great hardship. She was very thankful to have something to eat and expressed her gratitude to all of us. She told us she was packing up the plates to go back across the street to the hospital. Her daughter was in the hospital and she had been with her all day today.

One of the fellow cooks in the crowd asked what brought her daughter to the hospital and she told us her daughter had been diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Madison almost leapt out of her seat and exclaimed “that’s what I had!”

I’ll never forget the look on the mom’s face when she looked at Madison. The pain and fear were still there, but there was something else now. I don’t know if it was hope or gratitude or a feeling of connection to Madison, but we all knew this was the first time she had met an individual who survived the disease her daughter was currently fighting. Her and Madison shared stories of this horrible disease. They embraced and we all wished her the best. She thanked us again and told us she had to get back to her “warrior princess.” This time Madison had the look of shock, as she said “That’s exactly what my Mom called me when I was in the hospital.”

That night was a turning point in my life. I married Rachel, the coworker who invited me, Madison was in the wedding party and I went on to quit my job to serve others. I went in to that night hoping things would be better for me by the end of the night, but I learned very quickly that it was not about me and never would be again. Learning to live your life for someone else changes you. It changes how you approach your day, how you approach relationships and how you approach your life. You still feel the same stress, same anxiety and same annoyance each and every day, but now there is a reason to work through it and continue to make the world a better place.

)

Jordan Bartlett

Written by

Father, Husband, Co-Founder…but mostly just trying to figure life out and enjoy it along the way.

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade