My oldest niece, goddaughter, and quite frankly, the (original) love of my life, is obsessed with Hamilton right now. As a fellow Hamilton lover, her newfound obsession just warms my heart. Ten years later, but never too late. 

In December, Hamilton will come (back) to Cincinnati. A week ago, I texted my brother—her dad—the following: 

“YO YO!!!  What would it take for me to bring (aforementioned original loml) to Cincinnati to see Hamilton in December?”

I know this request is a long shot. But in the words of my friend Lin-Manuel Miranda:

I am not throwin’ away my shot
I am not throwin’ away my shot
Ay, yo, I’m just like my country
I’m young, scrappy and hungry

LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA. “My Shot.”

I get it, and deep down, I knew it was unlikely.

The next day, we were on the phone and I said, “Thought any more about my Hamilton request?”—to which he replied, “Bad timing, Meliss.”

I was confused, so I asked for clarity.
He said, “I can’t imagine being away from any of my kids right now. Or ever again.”
It immediately clicked, and my heart sank.

I haven’t been intentionally avoiding the news (like I normally do). But I was aware of the devastation happening in Texas.

Still, all I really knew was that when I found myself in circles where people brought it up—they couldn’t talk about it.

Sadly, our country has faced many tragedies. But this one feels different. It seems to pierce the heart of every single person I’ve encountered—especially parents.

I know this tragedy extends far beyond Camp Mystic, but the thought of young girls going from an arts and crafts activity to being swept away in a moment is absolutely gut-wrenching. And when I think of my nieces in particular, I am wrecked.

I can’t imagine the loss of a child—and God willing, I will never have to face that utterly tragic experience.

At my aunt’s funeral in 2010, I remember the priest opening his homily as he addressed my cousins, uncle, and Aunt Christie’s mother with this:

When a child loses a parent, they become an orphan.
When a husband loses his wife, he becomes a widower.
But there is no word for when a parent loses a child.

And I will never forget that.

I immediately called my new business partner (wild—and more to come on that soon), who is an incredibly talented sacred artist, and said, “Holly, we need to do something.”
She graciously listened, agreed, and said she’d discern and pray about it.

The next morning, we were at Mass together. During the intentions, the priest prayed for all the lives lost in the Texas flooding, and in particular, for two girls found with rosaries in their hands.

Most of our best brainstorming happens in the church parking lot after Mass, and that day we were even more convicted—something had to be done.

What has followed has been incredibly moving.

Every single person I’ve spoken to about this project has been supportive, heartbroken, and deeply touched—from generous donors to a seemingly random landlord I met, to the advertising saleswoman in Texas. It’s hard to put into words.

And honestly, bad timing reared its ugly head again.
This all began the day 14 people were flying into town to celebrate my 40th birthday. I had planned (too many) events to show off my favorite parts of Cincinnati—including a party with all my favorite people in town.
I was so excited. And so overwhelmed.
I wanted to be present for my family and friends—especially since so many sacrificed time and money to be there with me.
But I couldn’t stop. I knew something had to be done.

Thankfully, everything happened.
And even though nearly every plan I made for the weekend changed, it was still an incredible weekend. My cup overflows.

But now it’s time to get back at it, and I am so hopeful for what’s to come.
Not according to my plan—even though I really want things to go my way—but according to God’s. A lesson that I have learned the hard way. And I’m still learning how to also say and believe this. He will move in the way He should.

The arts continue to soothe, uplift, encourage, challenge, and inspire me.
And I pray that Hope for Texas will do the same.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted,
saves those whose spirit is crushed.

Psalm 34:19

In the words of my genius new friend and colleague:
“We figured since everything’s bigger in Texas… we couldn’t just send a card.”

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Learn more here.