You’ve Got This: The Story of Saying Hi

It’s hard to say where it started, really…

When I was a child, we had a neighborhood hardware store with the three bright red letters emblazoned on the front of the roof. Ace was the place. My mother had spent her school teacher weekends as an Ace cashier and several years later in the height of the eighties, we would still walk in to greet the other cashiers by name, pick a small lollipop out of the plastic bucket, and race to the back of the store to watch the monkey who lived in the large enclosed cage taking up the back corner of the store. And if we were lucky, Chiclet would come over and put her hand against the glass.

Ace was our playground, our people, and our home away from home. Mom worked there, Dad went there to fix things and make Mom happy, and we – well we went for the Saturday morning cookies. We knew the people and they knew us.

Skip forward another generation to a time full of IVs and chemo and blood. Chase is diagnosed and being treated and somehow, unbelievably and beautifully, Ace is still our place. But now, now they enter our other home – the hospital place. They enter our suffering and pain, funding hospital needs and family spaces and using their profits to change things for the better. Because it isn’t enough to build a house or fix a yard. They’re building lives and fixing dreams.

Ace became our advocates, our voice, and our family away from family. 

And somehow in all of this, Chase still didn’t want to talk to people. It didn’t matter how nice or awesome they were to him or us. He simply didn’t want to talk to them. He didn’t yet feel the history of the three red letters, and it broke my heart to watch him hide, but new people were especially hard for him after lots of treatment and pain, and everything takes a while.

But I still wish him to see those around us, helping us the way I get to see them – I want him to feel the love and family the way I do. So we make it a game.

“I bet I can say hi before you can…” I challenge him desperately. Because life with Chase is like a hostage negotiation – there’s usually only once chance to sell it – and I want to make this good.

“No you can’t!” He laughs. “Hi Miss Chris!”

And suddenly he is saying hi to Chris, his favorite Ace face and a beautiful sister warrior of the heart. She was his first point of contact and she became his first greeting too.

And then time passes and more good is done. Chase grows and evolves again, and we find ourselves saying hi, not only to Chris, but to everyone at Ace – and it’s still a race because Ace is full of our friends. They become our voice and stand for all good things when we drive past their buildings on the way to the hospital.

The buildings are low and dark, but I know the heart and light that sits inside of the space and just the sight is enough to make us feel like they’re cheering us on as we go to warrior in the hospital place.

“Hi Miss Chris, Hi Miss Kelli, Hi Ace!” He yells. “Ha! I beat you, Mom!”

He always beats me. And that’s okay because it means that my Ace is now his – that he sees them for the family they are, and he knows they stand with him no matter what.

Even on the dark, cold pre-dawn of surgery morning, they’re with him. 

We round the bend in the road right before the dark buildings with their bright red letters. One last time before the hospital now.

“Hi Miss Chris!” he yells. “Ha! I beat you again, Mom.” He brags his first words as he’s been quiet with worry for the surgery just ahead.

But something catches us, slows us for a closer look this time, because there is so much more than the iconic glowing red on the buildings.

There’s an answer in the darkness, as lit windows frame letters that make words:

“Hi Chase – You got this!”

You see, sometimes hi is just a greeting.

But sometimes hi stands for growth and life and a big hug around the heart right when you need it most.

And then the buildings are past us, the hospital before us, and he sits in the dark of the car and whispers to himself with a small, secret smile. “I’ve got this.”

We’ve got this. And then we choose hope once again.

Dedicated with so much love and gratitude to our Ace Hardware family. Thank you for standing with us.

Ace Hardware has over 5,000 stores around the world, most of which are independently owned and operated by local entrepreneurs. Since 1991, Ace has been a proud partner of Children’s Miracle Network (CMN) Hospitals. Through Ace retailers and customers, vendor partners, and Corporate team members, over $100 million has been raised for CMN Hospitals, including Chase’s own Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago.