Team Heron

This was as real as it gets.

One Hundred thousand plus dollars in community funding on the line for the advocacy agency that Master directs. All of it depending on the proposal that HAD to be turned in by noon last Friday (during a week where there were at least 3 other major things going on simultaneously). The Request For Proposal (RFP) was a document running to more than 130 pages of very specific guidelines and requirements for the project funding.

We are talking lifeblood here. The money, is not the entirety of the agency's budget. Not by a long shot, but it funds a significant chunk of the education and advocacy efforts that make life better for the population that He works so hard to serve and support. If that funding source disappeared suddenly, the agency would disappear -- His work would disappear -- a lifetime of advocacy would screech to a halt -- and people would most likely die. That doesn't even begin to consider what would happen to our family...

The needed documents had to be assembled, written, wordsmithed, and drawn to the appropriate specifications -- and with enough flair and flash that the whole thing could compete in today's highly competitive charitable giving marketplace... and the clock was ticking.

Because you see, there were bits and pieces of that RFP that just had Him boggled. Master is a brilliant advocate with a staggering knowledge of the disability field. He is one of the most talented agency directors, and He has a phenomenally dedicated staff. But it is a small group, and they have REAL work to do keeping their folks alive and well and safe. The whole RFP was staggering, and there were some parts of it that were almost beyond the capacity of a small organization without a dedicated IT staff and/or graphics design team.

Nevermind. No allowances for resources available. Submit the required pieces on time or lose the funding. End of discussion.

He fussed. He stewed. He stayed awake at night worrying. For weeks.

He is the original ADHD child, grown up. He processes information so quickly it makes my head spin. He and I have completely different learning styles, and He runs circles around me with His thinking sometimes. I need to contemplate and draw pictures and diagrams. By the time I get things all drawn out, He's already off to something else most of the time. I work with these kind of learners in the classroom. I've learned to stand back and let Him fly along. I reflect. I listen. I keep things calm... I draw the pictures, and I make the connections (if I can get Him to slow down long enough to listen to me).

This time it paid off.

Last week, as things cranked up and the deadline approached, we became "Team Heron." Somewhere, about Tuesday, He finally hit the point of ultimate crisis. It got critical enough that He tipped over into deadline mode and things began to come together in frantic bits and pieces. Working at home, with His CFO on the phone and online almost continually, we began to cobble the largest document into shape. He had most of the text in about a dozen different files, scattered all over the place (ADHD remember).

It was about keeping things calm. It was about pointing out the starting places. It was about helping to problem solve. It was about T keeping us fed and hydrated and clothed and washed and halfway organized as the piles accumulated everywhere... Ultimately, there was one single, scary required form that just had Him frozen like a deer in the headlights. We managed, to sidle up to the darn thing, with all the other pieces hammered out and refined until it began to make sense and come together. In the end, the part of the proposal that had seemed so daunting, came together and slid into place simply and elegantly -- of course we all looked like we'd just survived finals week at the end of the most demanding University. He sighed and sat looking at the finished product -- all signed and packaged and ready to go. And He knew it was all good, consistent, and strong.

The proposal that will fund His agency for the next three years was turned in with 31 minutes to spare. We were good together. Really good.

It was as real as it gets. Team Heron.

swan