If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.
~1 Corinthians 12:26
In May 2010, a tragedy took place in the small town of New Berlin, Pennsylvania. My friend, Mike Hobbins, was turkey hunting and was accidently shot by another hunter. This terrible event ultimately brought my family and the Hobbins family together in an unforeseen but beautiful way.
The shooting resulted in multiple brain aneurysms and the loss of vision in both of Mike’s eyes. He endured months of medical treatment and schooling for the blind, but perhaps the most profound loss was the loss of something that most of us take for granted . . . an ordinary life. Mike never imagined when he woke up that spring morning that it was the last time he would see his lovely wife or his children, or see the woods where he loved spending his free time.
The community where Mike and his wife raised their family immediately rallied around them. They sold T-shirts, held bake sales and car washes, and eventually organized a Bingo game in Mike’s honor to raise money for his medical treatments and living expenses. The Hobbins family had suffered a horrific blow, but through the compassion of others they learned what it means when people come together in love.
I was among many who wanted to help Mike and his family, and I felt good about participating in the fundraisers. At the time of the accident, Mike was just a casual acquaintance. I knew him only as one of the high school football coaches who at one time had coached my son, Taylor.
Mike’s situation resonated with me because a few years prior, my stepbrother had been shot and killed in a random drive-by shooting. I knew firsthand how suddenly life could change. But what I did not know was the realistic, day-to-day impact of a tragedy of this magnitude. In the weeks and months following Mike’s accident, I remember talking with friends, wishing that I had something more tangible to offer. My wish was that in the midst of such sadness, the Hobbins family could find peace and hope.
Mike ultimately lost his job of several years, and his wife assumed the role of full-time caregiver, while they both transitioned to their new normal. And while it appeared the dust had settled, a lot of the challenges were just beginning. Survivors of something like this often have a way of hiding the reality of the situations they are facing from the rest of the world. As neighbors and friends, we only get to see what those suffering are able to reveal to us. The Hobbins family would prove to be stronger than the challenges they faced, and I would learn firsthand just how much strength they possessed.
Two and a half years after Mike’s accident, my son Taylor fell down the stairs in our home. He was twenty-one years old at the time, and the fall created a devastating blow to his entire being. My son was in a coma for weeks, and when he did emerge, he would be forever changed. While falling, Taylor sustained countless blows to his frontal lobe, and severely damaged the right and left sides of his brain. He spent weeks in the intensive- and special-care units and months in an acute rehabilitation hospital. Taylor’s fall occurred on Thanksgiving Eve in 2012, and our lives would become defined by traumatic brain injury from that day forward.
Our family lived in the town adjacent to the Hobbins family, and many of our friends were connected. Since Taylor and our youngest son Tanner had both played football, Mike was familiar with them both. Some of the first people to come and sit with us in the long, quiet corridors of the hospital would be the football coaches. To these men, football was not just a game, it was a family. And although Mike was no longer coaching, he was still very much a part of the team.
Similar to the days following Mike’s accident, a team gathered around us, and “Team Taylor” was formed. These teams were a practical way for others to show their support, and gave people the chance to participate and help when they weren’t sure what else to do.
The rehab hospital we chose for Taylor was about three hours from our home. I lived on the campus with him, and the rest of our family made the trip on weekends. Taylor slowly began to emerge from his coma, and he started the process of relearning the little things. Much like Mike, he would have to work tirelessly to become a shadow of who he had been before the fall, and the challenges were great.
I took a leave of absence that resulted in many unmet financial needs. To be honest, our finances were not something that I could allow myself to think about, so I made a choice to trust that somehow, some way, things would work out. My energy had to be focused on supporting Taylor and our family in this initial stage of his recovery. But our reality was that bills were piling up and would continue to do so.
In March 2013, a few months after Taylor’s fall and almost two years after Mike’s accident, the leaders of “Team Mike” approached one of Taylor’s best friends. The annual Mike Hobbins Recovery Bingo was once again taking place, and Mike and his wife Terry found themselves wanting to pay forward the kindness they had received. What was so interesting about this is that the Hobbinses were not that far into their own journey and still had tremendous needs of their own. However, they saw a chance to help a neighbor the same way they had been helped.
The Bingo turned into quite an event. Countless area businesses donated items to be raffled. The football team and numerous other individuals donated their time to bake things, flip burgers, and work the Bingo game and concession stand that would feed the crowd.
The Bingo was the first time that I had really been with a crowd since Taylor’s accident occurred, and I trembled with grief as I experienced the uncharted territory of brokenness and fear. Mike and Terry stood by me that first year, and as I looked out into the crowd, many people were wearing their “Team Taylor” shirts . . . including Mike’s entire family. In essence, they were saying, “When one suffers, we all suffer.” They reminded me beautifully that we were not alone in this.
I stood in awe as a man and his wife, who would become our treasured friends, gave our family half of the funds that were raised that day. They knew the road we walked, and they knew they had to do something. This unsolicited and beautiful act of kindness has continued since 2013, and has eased our financial burdens over the last three years.
In 2016, we made a decision that we would embrace another family, one whose son was battling brain cancer, and the kindness continued. What the Hobbins family did for us was one of the sweetest things I have ever witnessed, and we are using them as role models now and paying it forward.
~Nicole V. Bingaman
