After every big moment, there’s a bit of a crash. I think that’s what I’m feeling this morning as I sit on my back porch with a cup of coffee, looking at my hummingbird feeders.
The migration seems to have passed, although I know there are still a few lingering in the trees looking for the sugar water. It’s still dry here in Texas, and we’re having what we call false fall. It gives you a little taste of cooler weather, but it’s called false fall for a reason. It’s going to get hot again soon, and those few lingering hummingbirds are still going to need those feeders.
Maybe that’s part of why I’m thinking about them this morning.
We just finished our fifth Ultimate IBC Meetup, and I think it may have been our most successful one yet. When I say that, I don’t mean the other four weren’t successful. Every one of them has been truly amazing. But this time, I felt like our vision was really being understood. The women coming to the Meetup are getting into a groove. They know what to expect, they know what to ask for, and they know how to help one another. The whole thing just seemed to flow.
Despite a few glitches here and there, it ran remarkably smoothly.
But what I keep thinking about this morning isn’t really the event itself. It’s the people.
One of our IBC sisters became ill during dinner and had to leave. I know her well, so when I got the call, I went to check on her. But I wasn’t the first one there. Several of the women at the Meetup had already stepped in and taken her to the emergency room.
What struck me was that these women barely knew her.
She isn’t someone who has been deeply woven into the community for years. They didn’t have a long history with her. They weren’t close friends. It didn’t matter.
The moment they knew one of their IBC sisters wasn’t well, they jumped in. They didn’t hesitate or stop to figure out whose responsibility it was. They simply helped.
They took her to the ER, and when it became clear that this was going to be a long and frightening night and they couldn’t stay, I relieved them at about 10:30. I stayed until about 5 the next morning.
I won’t go into everything that happened during those hours. It was frightening enough, and some things don’t need to be told to be meaningful. But sitting there with her, I kept thinking about what was happening back at the hotel.
This was our fifth Ultimate IBC Meetup. And somehow, that night in an emergency room felt like one of the clearest examples of why I think this was our most successful one yet.
Not because everything went perfectly. Not because there weren’t things we could have done better. And not even because of the speakers.
It was because people were taking care of one another.
Sometimes, when everyone else is looking at the speaker, I’m not. I know what they’re going to say. We review the presentations beforehand, both to minimize duplication and to make sure we’re supporting what each person is bringing to our community.
So I find myself watching the audience instead.
I’m watching their faces and watching what resonates and what doesn’t. I’m watching who is absorbing the information, who is overwhelmed by it, who needs to talk to someone, who needs a ride, and who has finally found someone they can ask a question they haven’t known how to ask.
There were people there I had never met, people I had no knowledge of before they walked through the door. I barely got to talk to some of them. There were women I know well whom I barely got to say hello to.
I usually take a lot of pictures at these events. I treasure the photographs of myself with different women because those pictures become little pieces of history for me. But I don’t think I took hardly any pictures of myself this time.
I was too busy watching.
Watching them intermingle. Watching them laugh. Watching them listen. Watching them take care of one another.
And I think that’s why, this morning, I wish we could do it all over again.
No speakers. No presentations. No agenda. Just us being together.
Because I think I’m beginning to understand the secret of why this has become so successful. It isn’t just what we teach. It isn’t just the information we bring together. It isn’t even the people we invite to speak.
It’s what happens when this community is together.
There is tremendous power in that.
And I will think about that power in the quiet days after everyone has gone home. I will carry it with me. It will sustain me until the next time we’re together.
Because one of my absolute favorite things to say at the end of a cancer conference is, “I’m looking forward to seeing you next year.”
And I mean it.