I just finished reading the next posts from the Best of Six Year Med (the other doc whom I think should write a book; another someone who works to, and every day makes a difference.) I began to think about making a difference, and as always ask myself the day on day, month to month, year to year all pervasive question, "Have you made a difference?" Asking the obsessive questions,"Can I try harder? Am I doing enough to be what I should? Is anything meaningful to me, getting through to the hearts of the ones who call me mom? Do they know what is important?"
Most days all I know is that I have been a mommy. But in a rare sharing, my son chose to hand me an essay he wrote for high school and with it, handed me an unspeakable treasure. I hope it gave perspective to the teacher who read it.
Out of the wonder around me has fallen a piece of heaven and a brighter hope. I am allowed to look into a shining window that let me know, some how a difference has occurred. Maybe not through me alone, it doesn't matter; maybe not in a thousand days, but slowly, nudged one way or another, and not unlike a seed fallen unnoticed, it has grown and it bears fruit; and today, my heart is glad.
Its amazing that I get to walk beside giants so often. Giants who don't know they are giants, but who manage to carry us on their shoulders, nonetheless.
The essay was titled -This I Believe.
I knew I was about to see something incredible, and I was not disappointed.
Mostly, without false humility, my son wrote his confession of giving in to peer pressure, and being undisciplined in sleeping in, or always selfishly wanting just whatever would make him comfortable or happy. He talked about walking home, late at night, because friends had mislead him and were going to take in a movie, instead of get a burger and go home. He knew they would call him names behind his back; but he did it, and he never told anyone. He just knew it was the right thing to do.
Then he spoke of his personal realization about life: that life was not about him, or about pleasing himself, about not always asking himself if he's happy, but if it pleases God? He says he believes if he finds this out he will find out who his friends are, but mostly, he will find himself.
Perhaps I cannot make the difference I seek in the short room of my life. What a tiny puddle I live in. But ripples go out from the pebble thrown in the water and touch other ripples...We've all heard the story, imagined the picture. I got to see the real thing.
Thank you God. Thank you for making a difference! Thank you for the window to see it!
