March Madness 20265 min read

March Madness means different things to different people. For some, it’s brackets, buzzer beaters, and the annual belief that this is finally the year their alma mater goes all the way. For others, it’s an Irish-infused celebration of green everything and wondering if corned beef is actually delicious or we’ve just convinced ourselves it is.

In our house? March is a full-contact sport of a different kind.

For 31 years, March has meant three sons, three birthdays, three cakes and enough candles to trigger the smoke alarm. It means springtime peeking around the corner, daffodils doing their thing, and the sacred family ritual of our March Madness  celebration. It’s a month of joy, fun, and often spring skiing because nothing says “let’s celebrate life” like strapping skis to your feet and launching yourself down a frozen mountain.

Speaking of launching oneself down a mountain.

Last week, my husband and I were lucky enough to spend three magical days skiing in one of our favorite places. A dear friend generously loaned us her home, and for a few blissful days, we skied and skied and skied. Blue skies. Crisp air. That satisfying crunch of snow under your skis. It was the kind of weekend that makes you feel 25 again.

Until it wasn’t.

You know how the last run of the day is always “just one more”? The victory lap. The grand finale. The triumphant glide into après-ski glory? Yes. That run.

I was following my husband who, as usual, was far ahead of me when I noticed that the center of the trail was filling with little ones zig-zagging their way down the mountain. It was icy and crowded. So, I confidently decided to move to the left side of the run into the shadier part of the slope.

It seemed like a brilliant plan…..Until I skied off a three-foot drop I didn’t see because of the shade and that charming phenomenon known as flat light. One moment I was upright and composed. The next, I was airborne……unintentionally.

To say I missed my landing would be generous.

There was a brief, cinematic pause in midair where I had time to think, “This is the end.”  Then came the yard sale. Skis here. Poles there. Dignity somewhere further down the mountain. Enter Todd. A kind young stranger who skied over and said, “Wow. I can’t believe you’re okay. That was incredible.”

Incredible. That’s one word for it.

It turns out, I was not, in fact, okay. I tore my calf muscle and did some soft tissue damage in what I will now refer to as my Non-Olympic Landing of 2026. The good news? It could have been so much worse. No surgery, no head injury and no dramatic helicopter rescue. Yes, there was ski patrol and a snowmobile but thankfully no toboggan.

The bad news? I can’t walk or drive for about a month. My curent transportation consist of my crutches, and a very humbling scooter. I’m one week in and still in total denial. Surely tomorrow I will spring up like a gazelle? This scooter can’t belong to me? How is it possible that I am now the woman who now calculates how far it is from the couch to the refrigerator?

And yet…here we are.

March Madness has taken on a whole new meaning.

It has literally forced me to slow down. I am not a slow-down kind of girl but more like a “just one more run,” “just one more meeting,” “just one more project” kind of girl. But when you can’t physically get from point A to point B without wheels, crutches, or assistance, you start to listen a little more carefully.

God is whispering (or possibly shouting), “Pause.” And as much as I don’t love the method, I’m starting to appreciate the message.

Because here’s the beautiful twist in this tale of ice and ego: this forced slowing down has given me space. Space to think and to reflect. And space to pour my heart into something that fills me with joy….our 100th episode and Season 10 premiere of the Charity Matters Podcast.

Can you believe it? One hundred episodes. Ten seasons. Hundreds of modern-day heroes who have opened up to share their stories of courage, compassion, and service.

My calf may be in a brace, but my dimples are working overtime. Our team is putting the finishing touches on conversations that are inspiring, grounding, and deeply hopeful. And I cannot wait to share them with you.

Our first guest this season is one of the most compassionate, kind men I have ever met. His work for children and families is beyond beautiful. It is the kind of story that reminds you that while the world may sometimes feel like it has gone mad, there are extraordinary humans quietly stitching it back together.

And perhaps that is the real March Madness.

Not the brackets, not the birthdays and not even the three-foot drop I didn’t see coming. The real madness is how much goodness is out there how strangers like Todd who stop to help. How founders give their lives to serve others and even how an unexpected fall can become an invitation to grow.

So however you celebrate the madness this March…..whether it’s basketball, birthdays, green cupcakes, or cautiously navigating icy slopes. I hope you celebrate the helpers, that you cheer for the modern-day heroes. And I hope you let their stories steady you.

If you happen to find yourself unexpectedly airborne this season, figuratively or otherwise…….may you land in grace, surrounded by kindness, and maybe with a good story to tell.

Just preferably without the crutches.