“There’s a thing I’m going to do,” Jeff said. “It won’t take long. Wanna come?”

I glanced at Darla. From the way she smiled, I knew this was my surprise.

“I’m game,” I said.

Darla looked after the boys as Jeff and I were driven in a high-speed air-conditioned golf cart to our destination.

“Last December,” Jeff said, “when we had dinner in Brooklyn, and I heard about the work you were doing, your charity work, I got to thinking how selfish I’d been. How everything always was about me. So I decided to do something. I got involved. And this is the result.” The golf cart came to a stop. “This, Kate, is all because of you.”

We had arrived at Give Kids the World, a nonprofit resort on the outskirts of Disney World, a wonderland paradise for any kid, especially those who were terminally ill.

GKTW handlers ushered us quickly into the Wish Café, where a big reception was in full swing for twenty Make-A-Wish kids and their families. These kids were all ages, shapes, and sizes. Some looked very sick. Several of the kids had no hair; others wore scarves. Many had faces bloated from steroids and anti-rejection drugs. One boy had a ventilator attached to the back of his wheelchair. The ventilator had been covered in skateboard decals.

Jeff stopped at the first Make-A-Wish kid he saw. He knelt down beside her and said, “Hey, Carla, it’s Jeff Slade.”

The Cleveland chapter of Make-A-Wish had sent Carla; her parents, Donna and Buzz; her brother, Scott; and her sister, Beth, to Disney World. I was introduced to them and learned that Carla had hypoplasia, a medical condition affecting the development of her arms and legs.

Jeff gently stroked Carla’s cheek as they talked about his show. She asked him questions: “Do you believe what your character believes? Where do we go when we die?”

Jeff leaned forward and did his best to answer. From his pocket, he produced a small pewter angel coin. He pressed it into Carla’s frail hand and said, “Squeeze this, and the angels will hear.”

Yes, it was a cheesy thing to say, but it was kind, and the look on Carla’s face made me want to believe.

Imagine twenty more different conversations but all the same in one respect: Jeff was bringing these kids hope and happiness that they didn’t get to feel most days.

He was like Jesus to these kids. He knew each of their names. He hugged them, high-fived those who could raise their hands. He posed for pictures. And I watched him proudly.

In one hour, he did more for the world than I’d done in a whole year.

“Here goes nothing.”

“No,” I said, “you’ll be great.”

And great he was.

As Jeff approached the podium, everyone in the Wish Café started to cheer.

“You’re too kind,” he said, gesturing for them to stop.