Landon’s Light Outdoor Volleyball

And for a few unforgettable hours, an outdoor plaza became the heart of an entire community.

The Idea That Wouldn’t Let Go

Landon’s Light Foundation Board Member Ryan Kill was at home watching a college volleyball match on television. Nebraska was playing Nebraska-Omaha inside Memorial Stadium, the football cathedral usually reserved for 90,000 screaming fans on Saturdays. That night, it was volleyball. Under the lights. On ESPN. Over 92,000 people in attendance.

“It was absolutely incredible,” Kill said. “The scene, the spectacle of it—you could feel it through the screen.”

Over the next year and a half, Ryan brought it up in conversations with other volleyball parents. Dads of West Fargo Sheyenne volleyball players, team coaches, and school administrators. Each time, the same reaction followed.

“That would be incredible. Someone should do that. That would never work.”

Until one winter conversation flipped the switch back on.

“You really need to keep pushing on that outdoor game again,” another Sheyenne dad told him. “That’s something we need to do.”

This time, Kill listened to the nudge instead of letting it fade.

When The Vision Found The Right Home

Once school leadership and the high school association were on board, Kill knew exactly where the idea belonged next.

Landon’s Light.

As a board member of the foundation, he saw immediately how the event could become more than a spectacle. The graduating seniors were Landon’s classmates. The timing felt right. The meaning ran deeper than volleyball ever could on its own.

“It just felt like everything was coming together,” he said.

When the idea reached Executive Director Julie Christianson and Operations Coordinator Cherish Hoffman, it didn’t take long before it became real.

Very real.

On July 22, a check was written for a volleyball court.

“That was the moment when everything shifted,” Christianson said. “That’s when it became real.”

They had six to eight weeks to pull off something that had never been done locally at this scale. From July 22 to September 7—when crews began prepping lights and subfloor—their world became volleyball, logistics, partners, permits, and faith.

A lot of faith.

Building Something That Had Never Existed

An outdoor volleyball court is not an outdoor volleyball court.

It’s an indoor sport surface—portable, precise, and expensive—placed at the mercy of weather, wind, sun, and timing. The court alone cost just over $80,000, an expense that could not fall on a nonprofit whose mission is to serve medically fragile children and their families.

So the community stepped in.

Deck Masters arrived as a partner— guiding everything from surface preparation to long-term care. TRS Industries produced a massive custom tarp to protect the court from the elements. West Fargo Events, West Fargo Parks, West Fargo Public Schools, Gateway Chevrolet, State Farm – Ryan Kill Agency and HUB – Nick Killoran Great Plains Region aligned behind the vision.

“Everybody believed in it once you explained what it could be,” Christianson said.

And then there were the details— the kind that turn an event into an experience.

Starting lineups weren’t announced from the sidelines. Athletes began on a stage, walking down a runway toward the court as their names echoed through the venue. Music filled the plaza. Each player received a custom t-shirt in their school colors and an official athlete badge—something tangible to remember the day.

“It was about making these girls feel like what they were doing mattered,” Christianson said. “Because it did.”

Even the weather cooperated.

They didn’t check the forecast—not intentionally.

“It was the one thing we couldn’t control,” Christianson admitted. “So we didn’t look.”

When they finally did, days before the event, it was perfect. And it stayed perfect.

“The weather was the MVP,” she said. “Unreal.”

When The Community Leaned In

By the second match of the day, something unexpected happened.

As athletes ran down the runway toward the court, fans instinctively stood closer. Then closer still. Kids lined the sides, arms outstretched, forming a tunnel. By the final match, the pathway had become a full-on runway—young fans on both sides, cheering, reaching, welcoming the athletes like professionals stepping onto a championship stage.

“It just evolved,” Kill said. “People wanted to be part of it.”

By nightfall, children sat cross-legged just inches from the court. Apartment balconies overlooking the plaza filled with spectators. One resident emailed Landon’s Light during the event.

“I’m watching from my balcony. This is unreal. Please do this every year.”

They had already exceeded attendance expectations. Roughly 2,500 people flowed through the event over the course of the day. About 1,300 spectators packed in for the final match alone— before accounting for those watching from balconies or tuning in on WDAY Extra and WDAY Plus.

But the most powerful moments didn’t come from the crowd size

They came from the pauses.

“More Than Volleyball”

From the outside, the event looked like an ambitious sports production: eight schools, outdoor court, lights, music, crowd.

But for Landon’s Light, the goal was never to create a viral spectacle. It was to create an experience that carried their mission without turning the day into a fundraiser pitch.

The gate was intentionally simple and accessible: $15 minimum donation for adults, $5 for students. Families could come without feeling priced out. Nobody was asked to raise a paddle. Nobody was cornered into giving.

And yet people gave anyway.

“We got people giving us $100 on a $60 entrance for a family and saying, ‘Keep the change,’” Julie said.

The money mattered—because the mission requires resources— but Julie kept circling back to the same point: the heart of the day was belonging.

“This wasn’t about ‘Donate to Landon’s Light,’” she said. “It was about bringing the community together around something bigger than a sport.”

About Landon’s Light Foundation

Landon’s Light Foundation was created to honor Landon’s life by bringing hope, support, and light to families facing unthinkable loss and hardship. Rooted in compassion and community, the foundation exists to remind people that they are not alone—especially in their darkest moments. Through acts of generosity, advocacy, and meaningful outreach, Landon’s Light Foundation turns grief into purpose, helping others find strength, comfort, and healing while carrying Landon’s light forward.

The Award That Reframed What “Great” Looks Like

Between the intensity of the matches—three of the four games were conference matchups, meaning rankings and pride were on the line—the organizers introduced an element that shifted the focus from who won to who led.

Every coach was asked to nominate one athlete for a Landon Light Leadership Award—a recognition rooted in the qualities Landon embodied: integrity, respect, sportsmanship, friendship, teamwork.

“It wasn’t just about being a good volleyball player,” Christianson said. “It was about being a good teammate and being a good friend—and living like Landon lived each and every day.”

At the end of each game, a nominated player was featured and honored.

For younger athletes watching—especially the kids who will move through these programs in the coming years—it created a different kind of aspiration. A different definition of success. A reminder that leadership is something you choose, moment by moment, in public and in private.

“A Heartfelt Hangover”

When it was over—when the lights went down, and the court was covered, and the last fans drifted out—Christianson expected relief.

Instead, she felt something else

“I’m still on a high from it,” she said. “I still feel like I’m on a high.”

Then she gave it a name:

“A heartfelt hangover.”

Because the emotion didn’t vanish when the final point was scored. It lingered. It echoed. It followed people home.

The foundation even posted a recap video afterward—a quick slice of the day that captured what athletes were saying and how it felt to be part of something “bigger than volleyball.”

And what kept coming through, over and over, was this:

People didn’t just attend.

They belonged.

The Numbers That Matter

Yes, the event was financially successful.

While a few invoices were still outstanding at the time of the interview, Julie confirmed the foundation would come out ahead— by more than anticipated. Those funds will go directly back into Landon’s Light’s mission, helping serve more children and families when they need it most.

But Julie was careful to draw the line between profit and purpose.

“This wasn’t a gala,” she said. “We didn’t raise a paddle. We didn’t ask people to donate.”

The only ask was entry. The rest was trust.

People gave because they understood what they were part of. Because they had seen the stories. Because they had felt the night.

That’s the kind of support that lasts beyond a single event—into Giving Hearts Day, year-end donations, future sponsorships, and word-of-mouth belief.

Not because they were asked.

Because they remembered.

Landons Light

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