Growing up, I never thought that anything could top reindeer hooves on the roof,
Santa Claus popping down the chimney, and an enormous mountain of colorfully wrapped
presents under the Christmas tree. And to be completely honest, I don't know if
many Christmases since have provoked that same kind of emotion… until this
past Christmas.
My Holiday plans were set. I was heading off on my first trip to Tanzania, Africa
to work with a charity called Right To Play that uses sport and play to encourage
healthy child development and builds safer & stronger communities. I would return
home to a Celebrity Ski Event that hosts a variety of Hollywood Celebrities and
Olympic Medalists. And finally, I would enjoy some time off from Speaking and Grad
School by hitting the waist-deep powered slopes of Utah.
Well with one phone call, the skiing plans all came to a crashing halt and the greatly
anticipated trip to Africa seemed unlikely. On the other end of the line my mother
was telling me that she had been diagnosed with very aggressive breast cancer. Cancer?
That was something that happened to other families. Not mine! Once I finally came
to terms with the reality, I knew there was no question that I would travel back
to my parents home outside Boston to support my mom with the surgery to remove her
malignant lump and the start to chemotherapy. I figured that I could basically write
off any kind of Christmas joy this year.
Through the surgery, we found that the cancer had spread to my mother's lymph nodes.
I had decided not to travel to Africa so I could stay and assist my mother in her
recovery, but my mother wouldn't hear of it. She encouraged me to go and help the
children that were in greater need and come back and share my experiences of hope.
I questioned whether my spirits would affect the contributions I could make and
whether my attitude would allow me to return with any feelings of optimism.
Once there, I was filled with inspiration as I saw how the power of sport brought
the children new expectations and dreams. These children who had a life expectancy
of a mere 45 years old were finding ways to enjoy what little they had and were
living each day to the fullest. Despite worries for my mother's impending chemo
treatments, I couldn't help but leave each day with a smile. When I returned home,
I found that my mother was ignited with the same zest for life. Sometimes life's
greatest adversities can shake us hard enough to realize and value what we have
right now.
Two weeks later, I awoke in the same childhood bedroom that spawned dreams of winning
an Olympic Gold Medal some day. But on this Christmas morning I wasn't thinking
about my accomplishments or what presents would be waiting for me under the Christmas
tree. My eyes were suddenly opened to what Christmas truly meant. The joy I felt
that Christmas day surmounted the elation of finding a shiny red bike next to the
tree, barreling down a ski slope with powder splashing in my face, or having a gold
medal draped around my neck. The experience with my mother and the children of Africa
changed my attitude and appreciation, not only for Christmas days, but for every
364 days in between.
Nothing could compare to the gift of spending time with my family and, ultimately,
the gift of life. Since that Christmas day, I too have caught the spirit, and now
close every e-mail and letter with my favorite quote:
"Life is not measured by the
number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away".