Rowan Jetté Knox

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Jerkfaces Shall not Inherit the Earth!

It's easy to be reminded of what jerkfaces people can be. We get little nudges of idiocy every day. "Oh! Look! Someone smashed in our car window for no apparent reason. What a jerkface." Or "Oh! Hey! Thanks for stealing Pixie's money out of her wallet. She didn't need to feed her children anyway. What a jerkface." Or, "Oh! Look! Someone cut in front of us in line to get coffee because he doesn't realize how closely tied my deep-rooted homicidal tendences and desire for caffeination are. What a jerkface."

Jerkfaces are everywhere. It's enough to make me want to crawl into a bag of chocolate chips and never come out.

(Well, not until the chocolate is all gone. Then I might come out so I can find another bag. Very parasitic, my desire for chocolate is.)

Sometimes, I need to know that there are still good people in the world who aren't completely wrapped up in themselves. Besides, that's my job. We don't need a bunch of Maven clones.

Enter Jacob Randell, a boy I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting, but who has already stolen my heart. Jacob is a little guy in kindergarten at Intrepid and Gutsy's school. In September he started throwing up every morning at 6AM. In November, after the simple diagnosis of acid reflux proved wrong, his parents sought out more answers. The news was devastating to his family: Jacob had a brain tumour.

This brave little guy has been at our local children's hospital ever since, and has received more treatments and surgeries than the majority of us will have in a lifetime. Both his parents have taken the last six months off work to be with their son. His mother just gave birth last weekend to his baby brother, Liam, and the entire family is relocating to another hospital two hours away for the next three months for more treatments, including a stem cell transplant.

Can't imagine it, right? Neither can I. Having close family friends who lost their two-year-old to a brain tumour at the age of two, and having a brother who was very sick in his early years, I have a bit of an idea. But not from a parent perspective. Not like that. It's a whole new level of devastation.

Jerkfaces hear about stuff like this and think "That's too bad. You know what else is too bad? I left my bank card at home and I can't get my latte now. Damn it!" That's the last time it even crosses their mind. Then they go smash some car windows or something.

When I found out about Jacob, I cried. And when I read his mom's updates on the Facebook group I cry more. Pretty much every time, actually. I'm a huge crybaby. In fact, if I cried fat instead of tears I'd probably be a runway model by now. They could cast me in roles where the character has an eating disorder. I'm actually pretty good at keeping it together when it comes to most things, but a boy with cancer? Hard to be stoic about that.

Today we have a fundraiser at the school for brave little Jacob. Jogging for Jacob's Journey is what it's called. The problem? I don't, um, jog very well these days. Something to do with carrying around a few extra pounds that make my bum wobble, thus throwing me off balance and sending me flying backwards into the ground.

Well, the bum-wobbling part is true. Flying backwards sounded like a better reason not to lace up the running shoes, though.

But there's a used book sale as well, and we have a lot of books. So we sent those in. And then there is also a bake sale. I can bake stuff. Too well, actually. Well enough that I eat a lot of my own baking and thus sabotage any future jogging plans. Baking that I have an excuse not to eat? Sign me up! I'll be jogging in no time.

I casually mailed a few friends and asked if they'd like to bake as well. But I didn't hold out a lot of hope. It's not that I think my friends are jerkfaces, but they're all very busy parents with a lot going on. And, if you're like most of us with children in the school system, you're completely burned out on Fundraisers by this time of year. There are only so many bottle drives and chocolate bar sales you can manage.

This is what was in my kitchen by the end of last night:



And there's more coming this morning.

Not only that, but a couple of the girls came by and helped me wrap the goodies until late into the night. The results are so pretty!

I had to take a few pictures to show off what love and hope can do. And, of course, in true Maven fashion, I had to start crying as I took them. Tears of joy and gratitude they may have been, but it still made it hard to focus the damn camera.

My friends are incredible people, aren't they?

But, like, duh. They're my friends. Who else would I pick?

If you'd like to make a donation to Jacob Randell and his family, you can do so on their website. It's only $10, and every little bit helps. Thank you.