An Evening of Wishes, Humanity, and the Kind of Hope You Can Feel in a Room
this is understanding series | May 26, 2026. More about the author in Meet The Parents→
You could feel the heart behind the entire organization. The teams coordinate every detail. The volunteers. The event staff. The supporters. The people behind the scenes, making sure children and families experienced something unforgettable.💙🩵
Walking Into Something Bigger Than an Event
Last week, I walked into a room filled with lights, music, elegance, laughter, and celebration. But underneath all of it… were stories. Stories of children. Stories of families. Stories of fear, resilience, exhaustion, hope, and love so deep it changes people forever.
It was my first time attending the Make-A-Wish New Jersey Gala, and I don’t think I was fully prepared for what it would feel like emotionally.
And honestly, I would not have experienced this night if it were not for two people from my workplace, BFI, who have always understood me and my family in such a beautiful and deeply human way: Kate Kerpchar, President & CEO of BFI, and Patrick Dunne, Chief Operating Officer of BFI and Vice-Chair of Make-A-Wish New Jersey.
Their invitation meant more than attending an event. It felt like being invited into something meaningful, something compassionate, something rooted in humanity. That stayed with me all night, because sometimes support is not loud. Sometimes it is simply people who see your family, understand your journey, and make space for you inside rooms filled with hope.
At first glance, the evening looked magical. The glowing lights, the immersive performances, the beautifully dressed guests, the smiling children, the music echoing through the room — it all felt cinematic.
And then there was Alysha singing the National Anthem.
It was one of those moments that immediately grounded the entire room emotionally. The kind of performance that makes people stop talking, stop moving, and simply listen. There was so much strength and emotion in her voice that you could feel the room collectively settle into the meaning of the evening before it had even fully begun.
But the more I listened, the more I realized this night was about something much deeper than an event. It was about humanity. It was about people carrying impossible things with extraordinary love.
A Room Full of Stories
As the speeches began, the room shifted. You could feel it immediately. The noise softened. People leaned in. Some smiled through tears. Others sat quietly, holding onto every word.
And suddenly, it wasn’t just a gala anymore.
It became a room filled with human beings trying to give children and families something every person deserves: joy, hope, memories, wonder, and moments that feel bigger than fear.
That’s what struck me the most.
No one in that room was pretending pain didn’t exist. Everyone knew it existed.
Behind every smile was likely a story most people would never fully see. Hospital rooms. Uncertainty. Sleepless nights. Appointments. Waiting. Praying. Trying to stay strong for a child who deserves the world.
And yet somehow, despite all of that, the room still felt hopeful instead of hopeless.
That’s rare.
For a few hours, the focus shifted away from diagnoses, treatments, and fear and shifted toward life. Toward laughter. Toward celebration. Toward childhood. Toward wishes.
And honestly, I think that’s why it felt so emotional. Because joy in rooms like these is never shallow. It’s intentional. It’s meaningful. It’s fought for.
The Children Who Lit Up the Room
Watching the children experience the night changed me the most. The lights reflecting in their faces. The excitement in their eyes. The wonder. The cheering. The feeling that, for one night, the entire room existed just to celebrate them.
It almost felt like adults collectively trying to protect magic itself.
And the children were truly the spotlight of the evening.
Sam’s story stayed with me deeply — getting the opportunity to announce the first draft pick for the NFL Giants in 2022. Imagine what that moment must have felt like for a child. The excitement. The energy. The feeling of being seen, celebrated, and part of something unforgettable.
Then there was Wyatt, whose wish was revealed right there during the gala — a camper for him and his family. One of the most emotional moments of the night came as the room erupted in applause and emotion, because everyone understood what it represented. Not just a camper, but freedom, adventure, family memories, time together, and moments that will outlive fear. And then came another moment that seemed to stop the room entirely. Wyatt announced that he is cancer free. Suddenly, the applause became something deeper. It was relief. Gratitude. Hope. The kind of moment that reminds everyone why spaces like this matter so much. Because sometimes a wish is not only about giving a child something joyful to look forward to.
Sometimes it is about helping a family keep believing while they fight through the unimaginable.
And for one beautiful moment that night, everyone in that room got to celebrate something bigger than fear.
Kyle’s wish to travel to Hawaii with his family reminded everyone that wishes are about more than destinations. They’re about creating joy and unforgettable memories in the middle of difficult realities.
And then there was Ella.
Ella came out with her family wearing superhero capes, and honestly, it was one of the most beautiful moments of the night. Her wish to travel to Italy carried this incredible sense of wonder, possibility, and joy — something bigger than hospitals, uncertainty, and fear.
But what made the moment unforgettable was what happened next.
We were told to look underneath our chairs.
Hidden there were superhero capes for all of us.
And suddenly, the room transformed.
Adults stood up putting on capes. Families smiled through tears. People laughed. People clapped. People became part of the moment together.
And for a second, it didn’t feel like strangers sitting at tables anymore.
It felt like a room full of people collectively saying:
“We are with you.”
The Meaning Behind the Capes
That’s when it really hit me:
Wishes are never just “things.”
They are experiences. Connection. Relief. Joy. Hope.
They are families getting to breathe again.
The superhero theme suddenly carried a completely different meaning too.
The superheroes weren’t just symbolic.
They were the parents walking through unimaginable realities while still finding the strength to smile for their children. They were siblings learning compassion far beyond their years. They were the caregivers, volunteers, donors, and organizers quietly choosing to show up for families they may never fully know.
But they were also the people sitting in that room.
The supporters. The businesses. The leaders. The teams. The individuals who choose to show up, give back, sponsor, volunteer, donate, advocate, and believe in creating hope for families they may never personally meet.
That’s what made the cape moment so powerful.
When we were asked to put them on, it stopped feeling like a performance or a theme. Suddenly, the capes carried meaning. They gave people in that room purpose.
For a moment, everyone became part of something bigger than themselves.
It was a reminder that superheroes do not always look the way we imagine them to.
Sometimes they look like parents holding their children through impossible moments. Sometimes they look like volunteers quietly working behind the scenes. Sometimes they look like donors helping make wishes possible. Sometimes they look like organizations choosing to lead with both heart and responsibility.
And sometimes, they simply look like human beings willing to show up for one another.
That was the real feeling in the room.
Not charity.
Community.
A room full of people choosing to carry hope together.
The Heart Behind the Mission
And speaking of energy… there was one person whose presence seemed to radiate through the entire evening: Tom Weatherall, President & CEO of Make-A-Wish New Jersey.
One of the things that stayed with me most was hearing his philosophy of operating “like a business with the heart of a nonprofit.”
And honestly, you could feel that throughout the entire night.
Not just compassion — excellence. Not just emotion — intention. Not just inspiration — responsibility.
Every detail felt purposeful. Every interaction felt human. Every moment reflected an organization that understands that serving children and families at this level requires both heart and an unwavering commitment to doing things exceptionally well.
His energy was contagious.
Not performative. Not corporate.
Genuine.
The kind of energy that makes you immediately understand that this mission is deeply personal to the people behind it.
And honestly, that feeling extended far beyond one person.
You could feel the heart behind the entire organization. The teams coordinate every detail. The volunteers. The event staff. The supporters. The people behind the scenes, making sure children and families experienced something unforgettable.
It all reflected something powerful: a commitment to creating moments of hope with both compassion and excellence.
The evening also reflected the leadership and support of individuals like Edward Russo, Honorary Gala Committee Chair, along with so many others who clearly poured themselves into creating a night centered around compassion, dignity, joy, and hope.
More Than Recognition
This year’s gala also honored individuals whose work reflects the very heart of what the evening stood for — service, compassion, leadership, and community.
The 2026 Humanitarian of the Year Award recipients were John Saraceno, Jr., Co-Founder and Managing Principal of Onyx Equities, LLC, and Jose Lozano, Executive Vice President & Chief Growth Officer of Hackensack Meridian Health.
The evening also recognized Stacey-Ann Easy, Head of Programming & Community Relations for the Garden of Dreams Foundation, as the recipient of the 2026 Kathleen H. Murray Award.
And honestly, those recognitions felt fitting for the night.
Because this gala wasn’t about status or titles.
It was about impact.
About what happens when people choose to use their positions, voices, resources, and hearts to create moments of hope for children and families navigating incredibly difficult realities.
Why This Resonated So Deeply With the Autism Community
This event also resonated with me in a way that feels deeply connected to the autism community.
Not just parts of it. Not just the stories people are comfortable talking about publicly. But the entire spectrum — including individuals with profound autism and families navigating realities that are often unseen, misunderstood, or incredibly isolating.
Because at its core, this night wasn’t only about illness, wishes, or celebration.
It was about families carrying invisible battles while still fighting to create joy for their children.
And autism families understand that deeply.
Many families in the autism community live in a constant balancing act between love and exhaustion, hope and uncertainty, advocacy and survival. Some parents are navigating non-speaking children, high support needs, elopement, self-injury, aggression, sleepless nights, medical complexities, or the emotional weight of wondering what the future will look like for their child. Others are navigating systems that still fail to fully see or support them.
And yet, despite all of that… they continue showing up with extraordinary love.
That’s why this evening felt so familiar emotionally.
Because when you strip away the diagnoses, the labels, and the specific circumstances, you find something universal: families loving their children with everything they have while carrying realities most people never fully see.
That’s what filled the room that night.
Not pity. Not performance.
Humanity.
And honestly, I think that’s why events like this matter so much.
They remind families that they are not invisible. That their children deserve joy. That their stories matter. That hope still belongs to them too.
Watching the children— seeing the wonder in their faces, the celebration surrounding them, the way entire rooms paused to honor their presence — made me think about how desperately every child deserves to feel seen exactly as they are.
Including autistic children across the entire spectrum.
Including those whose needs are profound. Including those who may never experience the world in conventional ways. Including those whose communication, behaviors, or support needs are often misunderstood by society.
Their humanity is no less meaningful. Their joy is no less important. Their lives are no less worthy of celebration, dignity, wonder, and community.
The Greatest Gift
This wonderful night reminded me of something I think we forget far too often:
Every family is carrying a story we cannot see.
Some are carrying diagnoses. Some are carrying fear. Some are carrying grief. Some are carrying hope by a thread. Some are simply trying to create beautiful memories while they can.
And yet somehow… people still choose love.
They still choose joy. They still choose community. They still choose to show up for one another.
That’s what I’ll remember most about this magical moment.
Not just elegance. Not just the performances. Not just the production.
But humanity.
The feeling of an entire room quietly saying:
“You are not alone.”
And maybe that’s the greatest gift nights like this can give families like ours.
Hope.
Hope that our children can still experience joy, wonder, celebration, and belonging. Hope that there are people willing to stand beside families through difficult realities. Hope that compassion still exists in a world that can sometimes feel overwhelming and isolating. Hope that our children are seen not for their diagnoses, but for their humanity.
Because sometimes, hope doesn’t come from fixing everything.
Sometimes hope comes from walking into a room and realizing:
there are people who truly care.
FOLLOW US IN SOCIAL MEDIA💙🩵
Maybe you saw a piece of yourself in this story.
Or your child. Or your family. If you’ve lived a story like this, your voice matters too. We’re creating space for real experiences—honest, unfiltered, and deeply human.
If you’d like to share yours, we’re here to listen. Always.