Here's hoping for some calm ...

This past week has just been crazy ... from an announcement that irritated/delighted, to a reversal that irritated/delighted, to a resignation that irritated/delighted. Go figure. Amid the chaos, two things became very clear to me this past week:

1) The personal support our team has for what we're doing is incredible and irreplaceable.
While watching all of the drama unfold through various channels (I was off last week, which gave me a lot of free time!), I saw some unbelievable behavior. People were saying/posting such incredibly hurtful things, toward the Komen organization and to Nancy Brinker herself. I get that this became a very personal issue for people, and I get that people have very strong feelings about issues such as abortion. But to express your opinion with such rudeness and hatred is just unacceptable in a civilized society.

With that said: The personal support our team has for what we're doing was incredible. Even though I have friends and family who may not agree with me personally, religiously or politically, the discourse was always civilized and respectful. I understand that my friends may not want to donate to Komen because of their ties to Planned Parenthood. Or because of concerns about the conservative direction the Board seems to be moving. I just hope that we can all agree on one thing: Breast cancer is a horrible disease and if I can do anything to help make a difference in the effort to put an end to it, I will.

2) The mission of the Komen Foundation, and our team, remains the same: Put an end to breast cancer. 
I was really impressed with the statement Komen made today on Facebook: 

"We have made mistakes in how we have handled recent decisions and take full accountability for what has resulted, but we cannot take our eye off the ball when it comes to our mission. To do this effectively, we must learn from what we've done right, what we've done wrong and achieve our goal for the millions of women who rely on us. The stakes are simply too high and providing hope for a cure must drive our efforts."

That statement summed up the entire issue pretty well for me. We screwed up. We're going to refocus. We'll try to do better. 

That's all we can ask for, isn't it? To do a little better each time we make a mistake? And have some faith that the mission is worth fighting for. 

Because that's what we owe to the the women I've encountered during my 3-Day experience. People like Allie, a single mom surviving breast cancer; or Bridget, who was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer when she was only 21 and had no family history; or young Zoie, who inspired so many 3-Day walkers. And more closely to home, to our teammates: Julie and Greg, whose lost their mothers because of breast cancer; and Jenn, whose mother-in-law died of breast cancer.

That's why we walk. Because we can envision a world where some day, breast cancer will be a distant memory. Because we found a cure. Or a preventive measure. Or a test. Or a treatment. Or something. Anything. We walk, because we can. It's the least I can do.