3rd Annual Friends FORE Max Janton Golf Classic Recap

We never wanted to cancel the golf tournament, but, like everything else in the time of COVID, it felt inevitable. We scheduled, canceled, rescheduled, canceled, hemmed, hawed, and, finally, Dan said we were doing it. He was incredibly enthusiastic and optimistic, and I was kind of like that, but mostly the exact opposite of that. Unfortunately, I can let worry get the best of me sometimes, which is one of the reasons I married Dan…he doesn’t worry much. He’s a big dreamer who subscribes to the “if you never try, you’ll never know” mantra. He’s my hype man.

We got to work just 19 days before the November 2nd tournament. We sent out e-mails, made calls, stayed up late, and kept checking items off a mile-long to-do list. We were super touched and blown away by the immediate response. Within days we had a full field of golfers for the tournament. We had generous sponsors, great food vendors, raffle donations, volunteers- it all fell into place, just as Dan knew it would. And yes, this is where I acknowledge that Dan was right, yadda, yadda.

For the third year in a row, the Friends FORE Max Janton Golf Classic had beautiful weather. It was a bit nippy, but no matter. Spirits were high and, just as with years past, there was a warm buzz in the air all day. All those faces, mostly familiar, some new, were smiling and there was a genuine exchange of love and remembrance amongst everyone. It felt that way to me, anyway. We all knew why we were there, and I felt like Max stayed front and center the entire time.

I’m especially grateful for days like this. Life has changed so much in the three years since Max left. Everything keeps moving forward, no matter how much we wish to go back. I desperately long for everyone to talk about Max all the time. To know him, remember him, say his name, cry with me, smile with me, recall his many funny stories. Max is threaded throughout my days, an essence I pray only grows stronger, and I so appreciate when others think of him, too, and share that with me. And I’m so thankful for days like the golf tournament, when we can all gather in his honor.

The tournament was a beautiful experience that our family will treasure. I’m so happy to share that we raised nearly $25,000 through the tournament and online donations. Max’s supporters never fail to amaze us.

Thank you so much to everyone who gave, in any capacity, to the Friends FORE Max Janton Golf Classic. We will be sure to tell each family we serve about our precious community who makes this foundation possible. It is so special for us to see Max’s life continue to touch others and gives us an amazing opportunity to show his brothers, not just tell them, how amazing their big brother is. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.

For Max

I found myself frozen where I stood in Target recently. A memory of Max, one that resurfaces often, popped in my head as I approached the kids’ clothing section. I stopped in my tracks, hoping if I stayed still, I wouldn’t just see him in my mind, maybe I’d feel him.

Max was 2 years old at the time. He was riding in the front of a bright red Target shopping cart. He was eating while we shopped, which meant there was a long tube that ran from beneath his shirt to the feeding pump backpack sitting next to him in the cart. His food, “homebrew” as I called it, was very slowly being pushed into his stomach while we ran our errand. I’d just taken a picture of Max, wide-eyed and precious, when I suddenly sensed he might throw up, a common occurrence in his first few years. I grabbed a swaddling blanket, which was more efficient for us than a burp cloth. Max started to vomit, and I became peripherally aware of our audience. Passerby were staring in disbelief at the amount spewing out of my very small child and they were curious, it seemed, about the tube draping from beneath his shirt. I turned off his feeding pump and tried to calm him. He continued to vomit as a mother and her gawking children walked by. My body was on fire. I understand the sight must have been hard to ignore, but how I wanted everyone to just keep moving so I could help my son without hearing “oh my” and “eww” in the background. One woman asked if I needed help and even her kindness irked me. I didn’t want attention, period. After a couple minutes, I’d gone through two swaddling blankets and Max and I were both covered in vomit. He was crying hysterically. I disconnected him from the pump and pulled his sweaty little self from the cart. I held him to my chest and sat cross-legged, right in the crux of four clothing racks. I talked to my boy calmly, I pressed my lips to his curls and soothed him and I put us inside a bubble, where nothing else mattered, not the store we were in, or the people around us, or the mess that covered us. Those details disappeared and all I could feel was the innate desire to protect and love and comfort my child and make everything better for him. And I did. By the time I rose to my feet, Max was calm and smiling. The most satisfying sense of accomplishment coursed through my body. I have never felt so sure of who I am and what I’m here to do.

And though our days were mostly wonderful, and Max wasn’t defined by struggles, he and I did share many occasions like the one in Target. His quarterly cancer screenings, for example, consistently yielded distress. Max was a difficult stick, so drawing blood was always a harrowing feat. He’d pour sweat and vomit as a nurse tightened a tourniquet and poked him in various spots until she got what she needed. It was my job to hold him still, restrain him, sing “Big Red Car” over and again and pretend as if everything was fine. But everything wasn’t fine. My baby was hurting, which meant I was hurting. I hated having to offer his precious, fat fingers, feet and arms to a sharp, scary needle. It wasn’t fair and, though I loved the nurses, I spited them in those moments. When it was over, I’d wipe the sweat from Max’s brow, I’d clean up the vomit and I’d hold him as we’d wait to meet with the oncologist. We’d go into our bubble where nothing else mattered, where delighting in each other was our only focus, where the world could catch fire, but we were together. I’d tell him it was all over, everything was fine, Mommy loves you so much, buddy. As always, we got through the drama together and there we were, holding each other and smiling.

Knowing that’s how we’d always end up is what got me through the tough parts back then. The day might be rough, but the promise of each other was so reassuring and peaceful. What contentment I found in tucking him in each night and later, tucking in all three of my boys, one after the other. I’m convinced that nothing will ever be as fulfilling as standing in my upstairs hallway, looking at three bedroom doors that concealed my three happy, beautiful, sleeping boys. It was my dream to fill up our house and I did. It was the very best thing that’s ever happened to me, getting to create the family I wanted so desperately.

Time carries on and I do my best to keep up, but I stand still a lot these days, whether it be in Target or my upstairs hallway. I concentrate intently and engage all my senses as I drift into moments with my boy. I feel incredibly close to him, connected in a way that still feels like our own bubble, where there’s so much love and safety. It will never be enough, it will always hurt, but I’ll seek any moment I can have with my Max. As I constantly long for the sight of his precious face, the sound of that unbridled laughter and the weight of his sweet body in my arms as I carry him up to bed, I cling to the promise of us being together again.

While this foundation has served others so well, I admit it has also served me. The need to do big things in Max’s name is just that, a need. Trust when I say that having a foundation in memory of your child is challenging in so many ways, but it’s something I must do, for Max and for myself. Max’s magic is too big not to be shared. I need his legacy to thrive as much as I need water, truly. I want everyone to know how loved he is, how proud we are, how he could make the simplest of things feel extraordinary, how it’s so wrong that he’s not here for you to meet him, but I’ll do anything to share his radiance with you. Along the way, as we’ve done great things for others in Max’s name, I’ve realized how necessary the foundation is for me. I must pour myself out to avoid being swallowed by my grief. I’m grateful for the opportunities this foundation has allowed me, the people I’ve been able to meet, the differences we’ve made and the story we’re continuing to write for our oldest, beloved boy. He effected a vast community throughout his 6 short years. He redefined “special needs” for us and blew so many hearts wide open with his jubilant spirit. It is my hope that his spirit will continue to affect others, especially the special needs community, which we are so honored to be a part of and serve.

I’m so proud of what the foundation has accomplished so far. Since we began in August 2018, we have given $70,000 to the special needs community.

·       We’ve partnered with the Miracle Babies Foundation at Northside Hospital to assist families whose babies have extended stays in the NICU. We have provided $35,000 (about 26% of Miracle Babies’ annual balance) to help relieve the burden of extra expenses – whether they be medical or logistical, as extra costs for food and travel is an issue for many families. We have served 70 families so far. We have also funded the purchase of a Super Tory baby simulator, which trains the nurses to care for babies with various issues.

·       We created The Maximus Janton Scholarship Fund with The Music Class, an early childhood program founded in Atlanta, now offered in 1,000 locations nationwide. Our scholarship fund covers the tuition cost for special needs students. Many special needs parents are burdened with extra expenses and are unable to afford classes like this, which are so fun for both the child and parent. So far, we have assisted with over 115 scholarships.

https://themusicclass.com/center/the-music-class/scholarships

·       We have funded the tuition for 40 special needs children and adults to attend FOCUS + Fragile Kids camp, an extra special summer camp, equipped with nursing care.

·       We partnered with All About Kids Therapy Services on a book drive to benefit Babies Can’t Wait clients. The BCW program usually evaluates over 300 kids a year. We gathered over 350 books during our inaugural drive in 2019 and 485 books in 2020!

·       We funded the renovation of a sensory room for special education students at Roberts Elementary School in Suwanee, GA. It is a therapeutic environment, acting as a calm space for students to take intentional breaks during their school day when they are overwhelmed. Specific equipment being purchased includes a new hammock swing, LED sensory bubble tubes, fiber optic waterfall lights, adaptive lounge seating (large beanbag chairs) and weighted blankets.

·       We have raised nearly $15,000 to support extraordinary special needs families for Christmas. You can read more about them here: The Stark Family , The Moses Family

We are now in the midst of planning our first 5k (more information to come very soon) and we’re looking forward to our 3rd annual Friends for Max Janton Golf Classic on October 19, 2020. Our foundation’s mission is also evolving.  We’re communicating with our network of special needs families, doctors, teachers and therapists to decide on more ways to serve the special needs community directly and meet needs that aren’t currently being met. The foundation is growing, and I want to thank you for that. Without support, a foundation can’t thrive. Our gratitude is endless, believe me. Thank you for helping us do great things in honor of our Maximus the Great.

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The Moses Family

I fell hard for the Moses family. I loved writing about their family and I especially loved sponsoring them this Christmas. I purchased toys for their three children and was as excited for their boxes to arrive at my door as the surprises for my own kids. Ariah, their oldest, wanted an American Girl doll. I found one that looked similar to her, then added blue glasses and earrings like Ariah has and I also bought her a wheelchair. It was a precious doll and the happiness I got from shopping for it made me feel selfish. As the mom of all boys, none of whom like dolls, I don’t frequent American Girl. It was a fun switch. Buying for the youngest two was just as much fun - lots of soccer and Minnie Mouse stuff. Aside from the gifts, we also had donations come in to help the Moses sisters with food and gas. I was able to give them a very large Kroger gift card, as well as VISA, restaurant and movie theater gift cards - all on behalf of a generous community who donated to the Maximus Janton Foundation. The Moses sisters reported back later to share that their Christmas was phenomenal. Just days before they were down to a few chicken thighs in their refrigerator, unsure of how they’d afford their next trip to the grocery store, but then this gift came and changed so much. They had multiple trips’ worth of money to spend at the grocery store and they had enough gas money to drive home to Louisiana to spend Christmas with their mother, the kids’ grandmother.

READ STORY 1

This was enough to overwhelm the sisters, but so much more came. After their story ran in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, more donations were made, as well as an amazing offer from a local school. I think Patty said it best, that this experience has “restored her faith in mankind.” It never gets old to see a community rally for an amazing cause. The Moses family is imprinted on my heart and they’ve inspired me in so many ways. A special thank you to my dear friend Monica Mangram for introducing me to these special women.

READ STORY 2

Our 2019 Christmas Family: the Moses Family

In honor of our Max, we are sponsoring another amazing family this Christmas and we’d love for you to join us! Twin sisters Patricia and Priscilla Moses have fostered over 20 children and have adopted three that they raise together. Their hands are especially full because their oldest, 9 year old Ariah, has cerebral palsy and Priscilla suffered a series of strokes in 2017 that left her unable to work. Their full story will be featured in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution in a few weeks, but we are hoping to start serving them now. The family could greatly benefit from gas and grocery gift cards. If you feel inclined, you can either DONATE and we will purchase the gift cards, or you can mail gift cards to us (message me for address). We are honored to help this extra special family have a magical Christmas.

Where We're At, What We've Done

A girlfriend recently told me she had a nightmare about a child passing away. She didn’t recognize the child or parents, but she was there with them and felt their grief as if it was her own. She said when she woke, she was overcome with emotion until reality came to the rescue, reminding her it was just a dream. How I wish that would happen to me. What I’d give to wake up from this nightmare, to let relief overtake me as I hold all three of my sons and squeeze my curly-headed one extra tight. I want to wake up. I want to wake up. I want to wake up.

I see Max every now and again when I sleep, but I always know it’s temporary and I’m frantic and desperate as I hold him and stare at him, praying I can make the dream last longer. It’s been more than 16 months and I’m unable to reconcile our loss. Anger and devastation are threaded throughout my days, part of my essence now, it seems. Their constant presence makes me miss not just Max, but myself. The Keri I was before wasn’t consumed by anger or devastation, rather gratitude, happiness, so much enthusiasm and hope. I look for that Keri every day, but the search can be exhausting. Life requires an effort it never did before and I’m tired. Dan, our boys and our family and friends certainly make me happy, but that happiness flips on a dime. Grief works that way. It’s an exhausting adversary.

As someone who is not comfortable sharing her pain so publicly, I reveal this with the hope that anyone who reads it will understand, maybe even empathize. We all as parents share the “worst nightmare” scenario. Now, having lived through it, I can tell you it’s so much more painful than you could possibly fathom. And you don’t want to hear that, I know. Maybe you want me to say we’re doing great, we’re healing, and the pain gets easier as days go by. I could lie and say that, sure.

When we’re asked how we’re doing, we debate what answer we should give. We don’t want to depress people, we don’t want to render them speechless or make a situation awkward – although, we feel extremely awkward most of the time. Losing Max changed us completely. We don’t socialize the same, we don’t pray the same, we don’t think the same. We try our best, for the sake of each other and our precious boys, but, oh God, what we’ve lost. Our oldest son, our beautiful Maximus, the one who made us parents, the one who turned the ordinary into magic, the big brother who adored his “Goo” and Beau - he’s gone, and we’ll never feel whole again.  We had it all. I’m so glad we always knew it.

The idea to start a foundation was born from Dan’s idea to have a golf tournament for Max. He pitched the idea to me a couple years ago actually, when Max was still here. Dan’s worked in the golf industry for years and thought a tournament would be a great way to honor our boy and give back. We never imagined we’d be organizing tournaments in his memory.

I said no to the tournament multiple times last year, because, honestly, I couldn’t see past my grief to do much of anything, let alone help organize a big event. But I finally realized the tournament was a way for Dan to channel his grief and to do something for Max. I knew I needed to get on board.

Dan and the PGA Georgia Section worked together seamlessly on millions of tournament details, while I worked away to legally create the foundation. It was exhausting work for both me and Dan. He has a very demanding job and was tacking on many extra hours for the tournament planning. I had to learn all about the 501(c)(3) application and fill out mounds of paperwork, which I absolutely hated, and do a bunch of other administrative tasks…build a Web site, set up the banking, etc. It was all extremely difficult to do. It was hard to challenge my brain to focus amid deep desolation. Dan and I both battled with the decision to do the tournament up to the very day of the tournament. Is it just too soon? Are we putting ourselves through too much? Will it be worth it?  

I’m so grateful to say that, yes, it was absolutely worth it. The tournament pulled in around $40,000. For the major role they played in organizing the event, the PGA Georgia Section took a percentage for the children’s charities they support, and we were left with nearly $30,000 to combine with our online donations. We’ve been blown away by the support we’ve received through our Web site. It’s such an encouragement to see friends, family and even strangers supporting our mission to assist the special needs community. Each donation feels like an arm wrapped around our shoulders, reminding us to keep going. And we will.

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2018 Review

Our first four months were remarkable – truly, our expectations were surpassed. We wish our supporters could join us every time we give to our beneficiaries. We take the obligatory picture with the big check and we’re grateful to do so, but we always remember that we represent many and none of this would be possible without their contributions.

Here’s a rundown of the ways the Maximus Janton Foundation gave back in November and December 2018.

·       We donated $2,000 to FOCUS & Fragile Kids, an organization that provides comfort and hope to special needs families through social events, support groups and fun programs, like Camp Hollywood, the summer camp our Max attended in July 2017.

·       We donated $8,000 and established the Maximus Janton Scholarship Fund for special needs students with The Music Class, a program that provides music classes for infants to 7-year-olds in Georgia and beyond. Max and I attended The Music Class together and I continued with my younger two boys. It’s an amazing program that holds a lot of dear memories for us.  It was an honor to give to them and we’ve been so grateful to hear from a couple of the scholarship recipients.

·       We donated $20,000 to the Northside Hospital-Forsyth NICU Miracle Babies Foundation. This program provides financial aid for families with unexpected and/or extended NICU stays. We spent Max’s first precious month of life in this NICU. It is a sacred place to us and supporting them in this way was a full circle moment.

·       We partnered with All About Kids Therapy Services on a book drive to benefit Babies Can’t Wait Clients. The BCW program usually evaluates over 300 kids a year and, between our purchases and a mass collection, we gathered over 350 books within a month.  

·       We provided Christmas for the Starks, a family comprised of five special needs siblings. We fulfilled the wish lists for all five of them, purchased a few surprises for their dad, Will Stark, and paid for Christmas dinner. What a heart-warming experience.

Thank you so much to everyone who supported the Maximus Janton Foundation in 2018. This venture is a labor of love for us, but, as I said at the tournament, it is also, of course, a labor of sadness. We are determined to keep pushing through our grief to champion a cause that means so much to our family. We will always identify as special needs parents and if you are one, you know there is a profound difference between typical and special needs parenting. We know the struggles, we know the emotions and we know the innumerable glories. It is so important to us to support this community and to do so in Max’s name. We pray his name travels far and wide and that this foundation flourishes for years to come – that Max’s adoring brothers will take over one day, continue to share his legacy and serve the special needs community.

We are focused on making 2019 a successful year for the foundation. We hope you’ll stay tuned as we share upcoming events and giving opportunities. We will be sharing the date for this year’s Friends FORE Max Janton Golf Classic soon. In the meantime, please know your donations are so very appreciated. Whether you give because you love our Max, or you believe in our cause, or anything in between, we are grateful and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Book Drive with All About Kids Therapy Services

MJF Christmas Family

One of our goals is to sponsor a special needs family every Christmas. This year I am dedicating 100% of the earnings from my Fall/Winter photo shoots to provide a super special Christmas for the Stark Family. Thank you so much to the families who have booked shoots with me. I sincerely appreciate your support and I know the Stark family does as well.

I interviewed the patriarch of the family a month or so ago and was so taken by him and his beautiful story. I hope you enjoy reading about the Starks. If you feel moved, please feel free to make a donation. We are so grateful for the opportunity to fulfill the wish lists of these five special needs individuals. It is our hope that this contribution will allow the family to focus on what matters most: being together for Christmas.

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The Stark Family

God will take care of us.

That’s the mantra Will Stark, 60, has always lived by. Financial ups and downs, loss of jobs, loss of loved ones, his faith has informed his every move. Now he clings to that faith tighter than ever as monumental change -change for him, as well as his family, primarily his five special needs children- could be just days away.

It all began nearly 30 years ago while Cheryl Stark, Will’s wife, was caring for a 2-year-old girl with Down syndrome in her home daycare. One day the girl’s parents expressed concern about keeping their daughter, because most kids like her, they said, end up in institutional care. The notion of that – a special needs child being raised in an institution – did not settle well with Cheryl. She went to her husband, the father of their three biological daughters, and said she wanted to adopt a little girl with Down syndrome. That would be one less special needs child in an institution, she reasoned, and Will agreed.

The Starks started fostering children, but after the third child was given back to their biological parents, in a situation the Starks knew was abusive, they went to the Division of Family and Children Services and asked to adopt a girl with Down syndrome. A month later, they had Melody, now 27.

“Cheryl sat with the mom hours after she’d given birth,” said Will. “The mom said goodbye and handed over the baby. She was young, single and had decided she couldn’t continue with college if she was trying to raise a child.”

There weren’t many families willing to take special needs children, so the Stark family phone rang off the hook. Within eight years, they welcomed six special needs children into their 970sf home in Lilburn, GA. The Stark party of five grew to a family of 11, welcoming, in addition to Melody, Natalie, 26, John, 24, Katie, 19, Jacob, 19, and Amber, who passed at age 18 in 2012. They adopted all the children at birth.

“We stopped because we had run out of room,” said Will. “But you want to take home every child you meet. You want to give them a family.”

The biological daughters, Heather, Jennifer and Jessica, were all very accepting of their parent’s decision to adopt so many kids. Cheryl was cautious to be sure the girls never felt slighted, especially since their new siblings required so much attention, therapy and doctor appointments. As it turned out, two of the three biological daughters are now special education teachers.

Cheryl stayed home to take care of the kids and Will worked. He was a laboratory manager at an environmental firm, a good job that paid well, for 15 years. The company struggled after 9/11 and management instructed Will to fire two people in his department. Will couldn’t bear it.

“One of the people was Iranian and just had a baby, the other was a single mom who had never had a job prior,” said Will. “I knew they wouldn’t be able to find jobs, so I laid myself off, or quit, instead, which saved the company the equivalent of their two salaries.”

Will went on to find jobs in the service industry, which made him very happy, despite not making much money.

“I grew up with a dad who never showed me that things bothered him and we were really poor,” said Will. “My mom and dad never gave me the impression that being poor was bad, it’s just the way it was until it changed. Faith is the biggest part in that. I have a track record in knowing God will provide. That doesn’t mean money flows, because it doesn’t, but I’m content knowing that if I have food and shelter, I’m fine. But you know what? If I don’t have that, I’d still be fine. I think God thinks these special kids are special and the crumbs that fall keep us going. I have confidence that good, bad, broke – it doesn’t mean much. I’ve had lots of money and gave most of it away. I’ve had no money and still gave most of it away. I don’t think the kids have ever suffered from lack of money.”

In 2011, the weekend before Will would start a new job working in the special education department at a school, Will and Cheryl, married 32 years, snuck away for an extremely rare weekend alone to Pigeon Forge. Not long after they arrived, Cheryl said she was tired and laid down. Tragically, she never woke. She had a blood clot in her brain and died from a stroke. It was just a year later when Amber, their daughter who had cerebral palsy, also died unexpectedly.

“I’ve coped fair, I guess,” said Will. “If you had asked in year one, two or three, I wouldn’t have been so good, but I attribute my kids to saving my life. The double portion of grief was so bad and I just assumed never get out of bed. But the kids. You know, there’s just another aspect to grief when you talk about a special needs child. You lost not only that child, but a huge piece of yourself. When Amber passed, a couple folks said ‘well, at least you don’t have to deal with her issues anymore.’ People have no idea how significant the grief is.”

Life carried on and Will did his best to keep up. He stayed home with the kids for three years after Cheryl passed before returning to work. The home booms with noise and action throughout every day. It’s loud, stressful, fun and constant, said Will. Natalie and John don’t sleep a lot, so it’s not unusual for them to be dancing or singing in the wee hours. There’s always a TV going – Barney, Sesame Street and Big Time Rush are the most frequent features. And there’s always the beeping of Jacob’s pulse ox machine, 24 hours a day. Jacob also has a trach and suffocates when it gets clogged two or three times each week. Will is up at all hours to care for Jacob, which attributes to his lack of sleep. It’s a busy, sometimes harrowing life, but one Will and Cheryl happily chose together years ago.

Will married again in 2017 to Deborah, a mother of three. Complicated circumstances keep the couple from living together, but they are happy. Now a transition awaits and Will is left to wonder what life will look like without a house full of kids.

“Cheryl and I always said that we would place the kids in group homes when we turned 60 or so,” said Will. “We wanted to be able to help transition them instead of just dying one day and having them turned over to the state. When Cheryl passed, the kids became an even greater part of my life and I didn’t think about that anymore. But several things have happened over the past couple of years that make me realize I may not be around a long time. If I don’t do something now to help my kids transition, I may miss the opportunity to have input and to provide them the support they need through such a big change.”

The moves could happen tomorrow or months from now. The State won’t give approval on new homes until there’s a firm commitment, timing is complicated, and Will is discerning in the placement of each child.

“I had no idea how much grieving I’d be doing over this,” said Will. “You know, kids go to college, so I tried to make myself believe this is like that, the next step, and it’s natural. But when you have a special child, you live that child. You don’t just take them to soccer and here and there. It’s bigger than that. It’s day in and day out, dressing them, feeding them, transporting them, helping them communicate, it’s everything and that is what has given me purpose and kept me going. Now what?”

Though a move for the kids may be agreed upon any day now, the family will be together for Christmas, regardless. If they’ve already moved, all the kids will be brought back to the Stark home, this year and all the years ahead, to share Christmas with their family.

“It always takes hours to get going Christmas morning because the kids need to be fed and medicated first,” said Will. “Katie dresses up as Santa Claus and distributes all the gifts. We open everything up one by one and everyone ooo’s and ahh’s. We take our time.

Cheryl loved Christmas. She put the tree up on Thanksgiving and usually took it down in April, and only then because the family complained. Nothing was greater than Christmas to her. I didn’t take well to the holidays after she passed, but we’re back to many of our old traditions – except for leaving the tree up till April. The kids love the whole idea of Christmas and that’s because of Cheryl. Life brings so much change, but the love of family and the love of Christmas are infinite.”

A Recap of the 2018 Friends FORE Max Janton Golf Classic Pro-Am

UPDATE! We raised $40,000 at our Friends for Max Janton Golf Classic! We are so thrilled and grateful for such a successful event! We cannot wait to distribute these funds to all our beneficiaries!

Special thanks to a dear friend and great photographer, Catherine LaChance, for volunteering her time and providing beautiful photos from the entire day!

Thank you to our amazing, generous sponsors!

Silver Sponsors: Bridgestone Golf • Cataract Steel Bronze Sponsor: Georgia State Golf Association Event Sponsors: Mitch Bernet of Safe Strap • Wilson Wealth Management • Bridgestone Central • Bridgestone East • Expeditors • Dan Murphy • Red Hare Brewing Hole Sponsors: Bill Donan • Eric & Diane Schott and Rob, Amy & Carson Bailey • Ellington Ridge Golf Club • Cedar Knob Golf Course • Heritage Golf Links • Certainty Home Loans • Roberts Elementary School • All About Kids Therapy Services • Cone Commercial • John Cook with Keller Williams • Donnie Wishard with JOMO • Martello family

Thanks to our sweet, generous volunteers!

Maureen Bixler • Connie Cieslak • Jim Cieslak • Jessica Conley • Pat Cowan • Erika Goodman • Kelly Goodman • Tom Goodman • Tommy Goodman • Debbie Hughes • Krista Joffe • Ethan Kurtz • Lee Kurtz • Amie LoCicero • Ashley Mathiesen • Maureen McIntosh • Harry Murley • Shiree Nation • Jessica Nichols • Maria Nichols • Mike Nichols • Jacqueline Schaeffer • Jeanette Schiffmann • Diane Schott • Luke Schramm • Tara Schramm • Patti Simpson • Victoria Stamps • Kristin Wint

Thank you to the many people who made online donations and to the many companies who donated amazing items to our raffle and silent auction!

Thank you to all the golfers and pro’s for signing up! Thank you to The Standard Club for opening your doors to us and thanks to your wonderful, super helpful staff for going over and beyond. Thank you to Ryan Moore for running a fantastic silent auction and for managing the sound and music. Thank you to the PGA Georgia Section for a heck of a tournament. We look forward to partnering with you again next year!

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The Friends FORE Max Janton Golf Classic Pro-Am was held October 1, 2018 at The Standard Club in Johns Creek, GA. Here’s how I remember it.

Sleep eluded me the night before the tournament. I went to bed at midnight, restless until Duke, our 3-year-old, woke at 3 a.m. with a cough. I gave him medicine, we cuddled, then I lie awake, thinking of Max, the golf tournament and everything in between. When the alarm buzzed at 5:15 a.m., Adrenaline, my companion for the day, pushed me to my feet. After getting the boys where they needed to be, I arrived at The Standard Club, ready to set up, fingers crossed that everything would go as planned.

Scott Gordon with the PGA Georgia Section greets me and I give him a big hug. Scott was such an amazing partner in planning the tournament. He dedicated so much time on a million details- I can’t imagine the tournament without him and all the PGA crew. What a team.

The sun rose higher and a steady stream of volunteers, PGA GA Section employees and staff from The Standard Club bustled. Everyone enthusiastic, hands in the air to volunteer for this job and that – maybe no one as eager as the beverage cart and Bloody Mary station gals. We had nearly 30 volunteers. Thirty people who took a day off from work, or arranged special childcare, or drove out of their way, all so they could be there to help, to support the foundation, to support us. Family, family friends, the girls I grew up with, sorority sisters, a handful of Dan’s work comrades, Max’s cardiologist, Max’s physical therapist, new friends from the March of Dimes- a melting pot of my and Dan’s circles.

The golfers begin to arrive, and I notice Dan’s smile. This is his element, you know. Once a professional golfer, once a golf pro, once an organizer of the Georgia Amateur Tour and now salesman of the year with Bridgestone Golf. The course is his church, the golfers, his fellow parishioners. He shakes hands, fist bumps, bear hugs. Greeting after greeting, his enthusiasm grows and I think, “just like Max.” It’s easy to picture my boy, his hands in the air as he runs back and forth, squealing with excitement. “Daddy coming home, Mommy! Daddy home!” The fuss he’d make over all these new faces. He’d love to see the golfers filing in, walking down the line as they pick their tee gifts. Rarely the child to clam up at an introduction, I can hear my boy’s sweet voice “Hi sir, hi! Hi, guy!” He’d love this, I know.

The golfers go inside to find a long table covered with fruit and baked goods, my mother at the helm. The next table over is the ever-crucial Bloody Mary Station. This is where warm-ups truly begin. The central region guys from Bridgestone specifically requested that their donation fund the Bloody Mary station and we did them proud. Jugs of Zing Zang, handles of vodka, every possible garnish - golfers sip generously as they head to the putting green and driving range.

Mumford & Sons croon outside as the golfers practice. Ryan Moore is running the auction today and he’s also managing the music. It’s no coincidence he chose Mumford. It was Ryan’s band, after all, who we hired to play at Max’s 5th birthday “band party.” They played Mumford songs and, for Max, it was as good as seeing the band live…until he actually did see them live. Dan and I took him to Music Midtown on September 17th last year. We took turns holding Max against our chests and danced beneath the night sky, singing songs as Mumford played, watching Max’s face for every fleck of wonder, laughing at the tears rolling down our cheeks, love literally pouring out of us.

Dan and the PGA guys stand atop a hill, taking turns on the microphone, their audience sitting below in a sea of golf carts. It’s mid 80s and the breeze is flirtatious. I’m glad the sun is shining bright and summer wins out today. I may be the only one not looking forward to October.

The carts peel away one by one and the day begins. Busyness ensues for a handful of volunteers, but there’s no rush, no stress. People laugh, eat lunch, have some drinks and work along the way. Buzz from the golf course is encouraging. The course is at its best, the golfers are having fun. Can’t ask for better. All day, the only mistake we hear of is that we ran out of bananas and protein bars. I’d write it down to remember for next year, but something tells me I won’t forget.

The silent auction is pristine, with signed sports memorabilia, a one-of-a-kind painting, a week-long trip to a house in 30A, liquor packages, a humidor and cigars wrapped with the Friends FORE Max Janton Golf Classic logo. The ballroom is permeated with spice and flavor from the Mexican buffet, hot and ready to greet our golfers.

They stroll in, four by four, rosy cheeked and smiling. They sip cocktails, place their bids and sit to eat. I see many golfers shake Dan’s hand and rave about their day. Relief washes over me as I realize it was a success. Everyone has enjoyed themselves. Awards are given and Dan, who is brimming with emotion, and Mike Paul from the PGA speak. A slideshow of Max is shown, the same one from his Celebration of Life service. The numbness Adrenaline afforded me throughout the day has worn off and heaviness returns tenfold. And now it’s my turn to speak. I read from my sheet of paper, try to look up here and there, and try to hold myself together. It’s a battle till the end. Dan wraps his arms around me as the boys dance at our legs. We’re flooded with hugs, kisses, tears and kind words as the night wraps up. One golfer, also a special needs parent, introduces himself and we smile together, an instant kinship and understanding. A sweet sorority sister and I cry together as she tells me she’s going from full to part-time this week, inspired by my time with Max to spend more time with her kids. Another friend quit her job months ago for the same reason. Grown men embrace me, profess their love for their children, their grandchildren, saying they can’t imagine. I couldn’t either just a year ago.

As my mom hugs me she says she loves me and she’s proud. I know those feelings all too well, that all-consuming love and pride a parent has for their child.

The night is over and the boisterous bunch has all gone home. Dan stays behind to review the day with both PGA and Bridgestone folks, and my day ends as it began, driving with my boys. Duke is still coughing. Thank goodness our sweet pediatrician called in medicine for me to pick up at the pharmacy. I get the boys home, bathe them, rock Beau, medicate Duke and say prayers with what voice I have left after a long day of talking. I slink into bed right after, lights off, no TV, just blackness. I know it’s coming, so I take a deep breath and allow the inevitable. Tears run as every emotion from the day overtakes me. I think of all the good that’s been put into motion. The difference this foundation will make for special needs children and their families, thanks to so many people who truly care. It should feel good, I imagine, maybe even healing in some way, but it doesn’t. Maybe that will come with time. My pillow is still wet as I drift to sleep, desperately hopeful, as always, that I’ll see Max in my dreams.

Nurse Maureen McIntosh: March of Dimes Nurse of the Year Finalist

Anyone who knows us well knows “Nurse Maureen.” We’re happy to share that Maureen is a finalist in the 2018 March of Dimes Nurse of the Year contest. I was so honored to write the nomination letter and we are so proud of our sweet friend for being selected as a finalist. Her desire to serve people is unrelenting. She is confident, yet humble, strong, yet sensitive and steadfastly hopeful. My heart is full of love, admiration and appreciation for this woman.

Although Max resided in the first NICU for a month, Maureen was not his nurse until the final day. I’d spent weeks growing close to a handful of nurses and had only seen her a couple times. But there she was that final, very difficult day and it was as if she’d been there all along. Meeting Maureen was one of those life-changing moments you look back on and, like witnessing a miracle, all you can say is “wow.”

When Max was released from the second NICU at 6 weeks old, he had an NG tube and could not attend daycare as we had planned. I spent the final two weeks of maternity leave on the phone with my insurance company and various nursing agencies, trying to find someone who could care for Max when I went back to work. When I decided to reach out to Maureen, I kept my expectations low, sure that she wouldn’t want to take on a side job. How happy I was to be wrong.

She went on to care for Max for 18 months, three days a week in her home. When she had to give her notice, I quit my job and became a stay at home mom. My friendship with Maureen has only grown stronger since. She has been there for my family and for me, personally, in a multitude of ways over the past seven years and I love her with all my heart.

She’s my angel on earth. She is everything I aspire to be as a person and everything I pray future nurses will become. May all NICU patients be so lucky to be loved and cared for by a nurse as devoted as Maureen McIntosh.