Power and Passion (28 page)

"With a lot of determination and some help,"
Sara replied. "I have not gotten this far alone. Joan, Maryam, my
coworkers, my family and friends…you."

Adam actually blushed a little. "Well, I
didn't do very much. But you have to give yourself credit, too,
Sara. Yes, we all supported you, but you have been the brains
behind this whole thing. It's your idea, and your compassion and
love for humanity are bringing the gala to life. Don't be so quick
to count yourself out, you know? You're more important and powerful
than you think."

Sara just looked at him for a moment. It was
hard for her to take such compliments; words like "powerful" and
"important" seemed so lost on her. She had never felt that way
about herself. She was just pleased if the work she did was to the
benefit of others somehow. Her own ego didn't matter one bit.

But there was truth in what he said, too,
and she did have to admit that to herself. In the last few weeks
especially, Sara
had
felt more empowered than ever before—as
if she could get anything done that she set her mind to. What was
going on there in the ballroom, she supposed, was concrete evidence
of that. It was a good feeling but one she had not cultivated
entirely on her own.

"All right," she finally said to Adam. "I
won't count myself out. But I won't count out anyone else, either.
I did not do this all alone."

"Fair enough," he replied. "It takes a
village, isn't that what they say?"

F
inally the night of the gala arrived. The
night before, Sara had been so nervous, overwhelmed by all her
worries about the event. Would it be a success? Was everything in
place? She barely slept; she just could not stop thinking about it.
But in the morning she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on
implementing the tasks at hand. Now, finally, she stood with the
Special Olympics executives in the pre-function room at the Grand
Creek, while, out in the lobby, the guests began to make their way
up to the registration desk. There they would receive their seating
assignments and have complimentary photos taken as souvenirs.

Sara watched them from the doorway of the
room for a while. There were people from a wide range of cultures,
nationalities, and ethnicities, from Western and Eastern expats to
those who had been born and raised in Dubai. Many walked in of
their own accord; others were assisted in wheelchairs. A
Paralympian guest of honor was even proud to give Isabella, at the
desk, a glimpse of the titanium leg prostheses that had helped her
win a gold medal.

Young and old, of all colors, races, and
nationalities. Both formal and national dress—the men in suits and
tuxedos and kanduras, the women in equally elegant gowns and abayas
with embroidered and bejeweled touches. Others wore sarees, salwar
kameezes, lehengas, jalabiyas, kaftans, kimonos, hanboks,
cheongsams. The crowd's marvelous clothing created a sea of colors
and textures that pleased Sara immeasurably. The whole gamut of
humanity was represented, and that had been her main goal—to create
an intersection among communities, a point at which they could work
together for a common goal. She had even titled the gala "Many
Hands, One Goal: A Celebration of Diversity," as was printed on the
brochures handed out to all the guests as they arrived.

Isabella had done such a wonderful job of
putting those together. Colorful and glossy, they included a
schedule for the evening so people would be aware of the events
going on—when the different bands would take the stage, when the
presentations would start, when food would be served, and so on.
There were a few lovely pages about the history and mission of the
Special Olympics then details about the live-auction items so
guests would know what they would want to bid on later: beautiful
works of art, travel packages, and spa days but also some very
big-ticket items like a personal jet flight to have dinner with an
internationally renowned actress in Spain, a private show with a
famous musician, even a retired racehorse. As an exciting twist,
Diana and Mina would be the auctioneers; usually a man filled this
role, but this night was all about breaking down barriers, after
all. Everyone involved agreed that Diana and Mina would be the
perfect fit.

Many organizations and businesses had come
forward to donate their goods or services for the auction once they
heard about the cause the gala would benefit, and many more took
out advertising space in the brochure to show their support for SO.
Sara knew most of this was done for marketing purposes, for these
companies to get themselves more business. But she also knew,
having talked to their representatives, that there was a
philanthropic side to it as well. If they didn't believe in the
cause, she realized, they would not have donated a thing.

Inside the ballroom the tables were filling
up, and many more guests roamed about, mingling and saying hello to
one another. As Sara made her way in, she paused just inside the
door to take in the grandeur of the room. Together with the
decorator, she had decided upon a theme that incorporated many
colors—another representation of the variety and diversity of the
gala's guests. The tables were draped in bright cloths with
cube-shaped vases of hydrangeas and orchids as the centerpieces.
These would be given away later to guests.

Large, elaborate floral arrangements bearing
the Special Olympics logo also stood at the sides of the stage and
by the entryway, each made of a variety of lush, tropical
blooms—deep-purple orchids, crimson roses, pink lilies,
chrysanthemums the color of sunshine. The soft scent of them rode
very gently on the air. They were absolutely breathtaking, and Sara
could not believe the florist had charged her so little for
them—offering her a reduced price as their donation to the cause,
asking only a small acknowledgment in the gala's brochure in
return. And even beyond that, the arrangements would be auctioned
off later, so they would actually bring in funds for SO. For the
money, the florist had definitely gone over and above what Sara had
expected. It warmed her heart to see how much they had given of
themselves.

At the far end of the room, the stage had
been painted and draped with fabric similar to what decorated the
tables, carrying over the colorful theme. The Russian string
quartet sat there quietly plying their trade as wait staff roamed
through the crowd, offering drinks and hors d'oeuvres from a
variety of cuisines.

"Sara," said a familiar voice behind her,
and she turned around.

"Joan! So good to see you. And you must be
David," she said, smiling and nodding at the man beside her
friend.

"Yes. So good to meet you, Sara," he said
then he looked out over the room. "It's amazing what you've done
here. Really beautiful. Congratulations."

Sara bowed her head slightly then looked
back up at him, reminding herself that it was okay to accept praise
graciously. "But I could not have done it without help," she added,
glancing at Joan. "Not without the help of my friends."

The two women looked at one another for a
moment then Joan reached out and touched Sara's arm, giving it a
gentle squeeze. "This is
your
night," she said. "Enjoy it.
We'll catch up later when you have a minute."

Sara nodded, and the pair went off to find
their table and chat with some people they knew. Soon afterward
Maryam and Ibrahim came in as well, wearing their traditional
Emirati dress. Maryam's black abaya had a beautiful, colorful
bejeweled trim.

"I thought you would like it," she said to
Sara, holding the dress out with her hand a bit. "It keeps with the
vibrant and diverse colors theme, don't you think?"

Next came Sara's parents, who entered the
room smiling, a look of wonder in their eyes.

"Oh, my dear," her mother said, coming over
and putting an arm around Sara. "This is so…so—"

"It's wonderful, Sara," her father finished,
smiling at her. "We couldn't be more proud of you. Not just for the
gala, either. We are proud of you every day. With the compassion
you show to all, you make such a difference in this world. It would
not be the same without you."

Before she teared up too much, Sara pulled
them both into a tight hug and thanked them for all they had done.
"You've always taught me to believe in myself and to do what I can
to help others. I am so happy that I've made you proud."

Sara continued to greet other guests, and
when everyone had arrived, it was time to get the gala underway.
She took the stage, where a dais had been set up for the night's
speakers and presenters.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome!" she began,
unable to hold back her enthusiasm—and a bit of tears. As she went
on, thanking everyone for coming and launching into the short
speech she had prepared about what the gala meant to the Special
Olympics, her eyes grew misty from time to time. She was just so
relieved, so excited, so overjoyed that the night had come together
so well.

When Sara was through speaking, she invited
all the guests to enjoy themselves, and that they did. The night
was a whirlwind of food and dancing and presentations, all of it—to
Sara's great relief—going off without a hitch. All the speakers
were brilliant. There was Saif Al Khalifa, the medaled track star
from Dubai, who had just returned from the Boston Marathon, where
he had placed in the top three; he spoke about diversity and
togetherness in the international sports community and the need for
further integration of athletes with different abilities—and what
he would do toward that end as he'd agreed to be the Middle
East-North Africa SO's new celebrity ambassador.

Next came Barry Garrett, the Special
Olympics' regional coordinator, who detailed where the funds raised
from the gala would be utilized, from directly paying for new and
needed athletic equipment to subsidizing travel expenses for those
SO participants who made it to the next Special Olympics games in
the United States.

Last was the mother of one of Sara's own SO
athletes, who told the very moving and inspiring tale of how her
daughter had overcome so many obstacles in life thanks to her
involvement in the organization—and how everyone there that night
was helping to make the same happen for so many people. She and her
daughter, seated in the audience, received a standing ovation from
the other guests.

Throughout the night Sara did her best to
mingle and to say hello to as many people as she could—a difficult
task given the thousand-odd individuals in attendance. She met many
of Joan's and Maryam's colleagues: nonprofit leaders, university
professors, even the sheikh from Maryam's volunteer board who had
so generously helped fund the gala, and many of his associates as
well. She shook hands with ambassadors and consul generals; she
talked business with executives and representatives from local and
international corporations. By the end of the night she would have
a thick stack of business cards tucked into her clutch purse and
promises of continued contact in the coming weeks.

The variety of the guests almost overwhelmed
Sara. So many sectors and industries and interests were
represented. The diversity was even greater than she had
anticipated.

Though the activity of the night went
through natural flurries and lulls, the atmosphere remained upbeat,
with lots of interaction between the guests, even those who were
strangers to one another at the beginning of the night. There was
an air of togetherness and tolerance, of respect for one another
and peaceful celebration. Most of all there was laughter, happy
chatter, and joy.

And good food, of course. Many people Sara
talked to mentioned how wonderful the buffet was, from lobster to
prime rib to fresh, locally caught fish. Sara had barely had time
to stop for a drink of water, much less sample the many dishes the
caterers had put together—with love, as they had promised to do.
She was glad the guests were so pleased but hoped they would come
away from the event with more than full bellies.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Maryam told
her when Sara expressed this concern to her. They were seated on a
couch in the pre-function room, Joan on a nearby chair, taking a
short rest toward the end of the night. In the ballroom the second
band was onstage, playing a lively number; many of the guests
danced, while others, tired from the excitement of the evening,
began to wander out into the lobby and off into the night.

"Everyone here learned something tonight,"
Maryam went on. "There is no doubt in my mind about that. Between
the presentations and you and Joan and me—and all your coworkers,
of course—simply going around and talking to people about the
Special Olympics…" Maryam shook her head. "No need to worry, Sara.
All the guests left here tonight with something to think
about."