Campus Ministry
Off the Record
A friend of mine named Jeff knows what it means to choose between playing it safe and taking a risk. He spent four years as Ronald McDonald for the McDonald’s Corporation. As you may know, "Ronald" often visits children in community hospitals.
Jeff says the warmth and gratification he received stayed with him despite two restrictions: 1) "Ronald" must be accompanied by McDonald’s and hospital personnel; and 2) "Ronald" is not allowed to touch people to avoid germ transfer. He appreciated the rules and knew that breaking either one could cost him his job.
One day he heard the weak voice of a sick child calling out: "Ronald ... Ronald." Gingerly opening a hospital door, he found a boy of 5 who seemed to be hooked up to every piece of medical equipment imaginable. Tubes ran in all directions. Pumps hissed their steady rhythm. A nurse tended to the equipment while the child’s parents and grandparents hovered around the bed awaiting a glimmer of hope. His heart sank as he sensed their anxiety.
Quietly, he walked over and asked the little boy his name. "Billy," came the weak response. He did a few little magic tricks for him as he lay smiling.
Then, just as he was leaving, Billy stopped him and softly asked, "Ronald, will you hold me?" It was a simple request, yet what flashed through his mind was the plain fact that if he touched the child, he could lose his job. Smiling, he told Billy that he could not hold him right now, but he could take a minute and color a picture with him.
When the picture was finished, he started for the door only to be stopped again: "Ronald, will you hold me?" His heart cried "yes!" but his mind shouted "no!" Which voice should I obey? Should I grant this simple request from a little boy who will probably never leave the hospital? He could think of no reasonable response that would allow him to leave the room.
At last, he decided he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to bring a little happiness and hope to a dying child. He sent Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa out of the room, and suggested that his McDonald escorts check on their van in the parking lot. The nurse stayed, but he asked her to turn away, as he reached out his arms and gingerly lifted the fragile frame of this little wonder of a human being.
While Billy lay in "Ronald’s" arms for almost an hour, the two laughed and cried together. Billy talked about the things that worried him—his little brother might get lost coming home from kindergarten next year without his big brother there to show him the way, or his dog wouldn’t get another bone because Billy had hidden them in the house and couldn’t remember where he had put them. These, he learned, were the problems little ones worry about when they know they’re never going home again.
Later, through the tear-streaked make-up, he gave Billy’s mom and dad his real name and phone number (another act that could lead to termination), and asked that he be contacted if he or the McDonald’s Corporation could do anything for them.
Less than 48 hours later, he received a call from Billy’s mom saying that little Billy had died. She and her husband only wanted to express their thanks for the difference "Ronald" had made in their little boy’s life. Shortly after he had left the room, she said Billy had looked her in the eyes and said, "Mama, I don’t care anymore whether I see Santa this year … because I was held by Ronald McDonald." This caring man made a difference by taking a personal risk during this, Billy’s ultimate transition. If we apply his example to our on mission lifestyles, we could make a difference—not just during life’s transitions—but whenever we have an opportunity to share Christ.
