Two weeks from today, I’ll be heading to Xenia, Ohio for Hamvention—the largest ham radio convention in the world. My sister and brother-in-law run a decorated apparel business, and every year we bring a crew of ten (family and friends) to create custom embroidered hats, name badges, and printed apparel right onsite. We bring two embroidery machines a vinyl cutter and two heat presses. It’s the second-largest event we do all year, and we’ll be gone Thursday through Sunday.
I’m dreading it.
The five-plus hour drive is tough—I barely fit comfortably in the van. Once we’re there, I’ll be sitting most of the time, which is hard on my body. I’ll miss sleeping in my own bed, and I’ll likely drink less water to avoid frequent walks to the bathroom—which, ironically, just makes my joints ache more.
The physical strain is real. I need help getting in and out of my chair. My amazing friends and family help without hesitation—they carry my suitcase, bring the car around, and take care of the little things that make a big difference. They never complain. They never make me feel like a burden. They show up with love.
So why do I do it?
Because despite the discomfort, it’s still a positive experience. Maybe not “fun” in the traditional sense, but we laugh, we connect with customers, and we make the best of it. Everyone on our team finds joy where they can—and so do I.
But the real reason I go? Because you have to live life.
Sure, it would be easier to stay home in my comfy chair, stick to my routines, and avoid the physical pain. But I don’t want a life built around only what’s easy. I want stories and experiences. I want connection. I want the satisfaction of knowing I showed up, even when it was hard.
Not every moment will be magical—but they’ll be mine. And they’ll be part of a life I’m actively choosing to live to the best of my ability.
With G-d’s help—and my continued effort—I believe the day will come when it’s less painful and even more rewarding.
Responses