Advertisement: Hopey Meals

It was late into the summer when we learned that Andreas had been admitted to the hospital with a mysterious illness. He was the boy in my Sunday School class I had hoped to watch from the football stands some day--the football stands surrounding a professional foot ball arena. Active and curious, protective of his grandmother, hyper active, and the very definition of "swagger."

It's the call you get and feel a bit of concern. The call that prompts you to request prayer, although a few days of school missed will more than likely be the biggest outcome.

Weeks later, I sat with my brother in the waiting room at the University of Virginia, expecting to say our last goodbyes. Andreas and his family had been friends for decades and his condition rapidly declined. His kidneys were failing, his little body swollen. We were expecting the worst, hoping for small change.

They still don't know what illness caused the stroke that resulted in a double amputation.

This is the reason that I first visited a Ronald Mcdonald House.

Andreas's mother, whose insurance didn't begin to cover all the medical expenses, was able to stay by her son's side for the months required for recovery at little to no cost because of the Ronald Mcdonald House charity that enables parents to stay close by their sick children.

After my trip to the gym the other night, I picked up a Happy Meal. I ordered a hamburger, and "apple fries" along with chocolate milk (I hear it's good for your muscles after a work out). Skimming through Woman's Day I discovered for the first time the purchase of a Happy Meal generates proceeds going toward charities like the Ronald Mcdonald House.

So I used it as a good excuse to indulge. And I thought about Andreas, who just received a special bicycle from the good folks at Wheels on the James this year.

And for all you factual folks I did the research. They donate one penny for each Happy Meal purchase.

Sometimes it takes small change for the hope of small change.