To Really Live - Hannah

My heart has been heavy for a friend who lost her battle with breast cancer last night. She was diagnosed last fall, and recently the cancer spread to her brain and then throughout her body. Since then, the doctors told her there was nothing more they could do, and her health declined rapidly. She left behind a husband, three young children, and much loved family and friends.

In addition, I have recently been listening to radio episodes of Enduring It Well on the Mormon Channel. In the program, the host interviews people who have been through difficult experiences and talks with them about how they have been able to endure. The experiences range from dealing with eating disorders to becoming paralyzed, to dealing with loved ones who have been incarcerated, to dealing with chronic disease or death of a loved one. Listening to these various accounts I am struck by one of the common threads--how much even small acts of service mean during difficult times.

One man spoke of a tragic plane accident he was in, and how even though most of the passengers were killed, he survived but with badly burned and broken legs. He spoke of his trip to the hospital, and of the woman who held his hand during the transit, and how much that meant to him.

Another woman spoke of the tremendous gratitude she felt for a young man who saw her son (who was in his early 20s), out walking late one night. Her son had Asperger's and was struggling with many issues, and this man took the time to talk with him.

These stories, along with the death of my friend, have caused me to reflect on my life, and what I value. I have such admiration for people who see a need, and in that moment, reach out. They don't serve to be seen, and they don't serve to feel good about themselves. They simply serve because it's the right thing to do. I want to be that kind of person, but so often I fall short.

A couple months ago when we were going on one of our excursions, I learned of a children's orphanage which was near one of our destinations. I thought it would be neat to visit and help out how we could. But after I contacted some people, I got the sense that many people (especially foreigners) wanted to come visit, but it was sometimes disruptive to the childrens' routines. Many people wanted to donate items, but they unknowingly donated more mosquito nets than they'd ever be able to use.

I also questioned my own motives. Is this something I wanted to do so I could blog about it? Is this something I could do so I would feel good about including a service project during our trip?

Ultimately, we ended up not going to the orphanage, partly because I wasn't certain what good we could accomplish there. And certainly this doesn't mean I don't value helping with these kinds of projects, because I absolutely do. I have nothing but respect for people who embrace a cause and make incredible things happen with it.

But I've been feeling lately that sometimes the most meaningful service is the things we do day to day, with the people who are around us. It's everyday kindness and thoughtfulness.

I'm reminded of two women who approached me several years ago in a department store. I had been dealing with a child who was throwing a tantrum and I was trying to purchase my items and leave. These women came up to me and told me how they thought I had handled the situation very well. I was super frazzled at the moment, and so grateful for their comment. I'm sure they have forgotten that instance, but I have not forgotten their kindness and willingness to reach out to me, a stranger.

Marjorie Pay Hinckley said, “I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”

That quote strikes me as interesting, partly because when people hear the phrase "[to] really live," it seems they usually think of things like travel, adventure, or success. But to really live, like Sister Hinckley suggests, means to really love.  And I believe that.

I wish I was more open with people, warmer, more complimentary, more thoughtful, less reserved. Ultimately, I suppose, that is what the Atonement of the Savior is for, to enable us to be more than we are. And I plan on becoming more.

As our Costa Rican adventure is winding down, I am reminded of the things that are most valuable to me--my relationships. I love the people I have associated with here, and I love the people I will be returning to back home. I want to show them that.

And can I just add that I hate cancer.