Today Is Our Year

Today is our year. 

About 4 years ago Battle Mountain High School Boys Varsity Lacrosse Team was preparing themselves for one of the biggest games of the year against their arch rivals, Aspen. Needless to say emotions were high, voices were powerful, and everyone's attention couldn't be more focused. The locker room was filled with "Let's go boys!” And, “Here we go dogs!” But suddenly everyone's attention shifted when Mac Kelsall screamed, "Yea! Today is our year!" It was shortly followed by laughter, a few confusing looks and a couple of face palms. 

Year after year we would remind each other about that time Mac yelled, "Today is our year!" It was fun, it always sparked a few laughs, and it made everyone smile. 

The sad part is that it took his passing, a trip around the world, and the introduction to a few new people in order for me to truly understand the complex meaning of what Mac said that day. 

Two days ago, on Friday July 22nd in Aruaha, Tanzania, Madame Lillian, a few other CGA students and I had the remarkable opportunity to meet Ebenezer and Enoch's family. The mother, also named Lillian is 37 years old, and lives and cares for her two sons, Ebenezer 12 and Enoch 10. Despite being blind, having no structured income, owning a house hardly big enough to fit a bed in, this past year she fought for the custody of her two children. She cooks for them, she cleans, and she cares for them completely on her own. I asked, "What gets you through each day?" She replied softly, "Prayer." She elaborated saying that even though each meal she has for her sons is dependent on the generosity of their neighbors, even though she cannot see with her own eyes if they look dirty and presentable before school, even though their academic sponsor has stopped paying for uniforms and book supplies, the Lord still listens. 

Compelled by her beautiful smile that came along with her heartbreaking story, Madame Lillian requested we pray in her name. Everyone agreed, so we bowed our heads while Madame Lillian prayed. I couldn't understand a word she said but her passionate voice electrified the room with such power it caused every hair on the back of my neck to stand straight up. 

Shortly after, I asked Madame Lillian what exactly she prayed for. She replied saying that she asked God to answer. She continued, explaining that this woman (Lillian) lives each day with the passion and devotion as if it was her last, but has the love to do it day after day, year after year. 

I finally understood what Mac meant. He was trying to tell us that today is the day in which we dedicate a new level of passion and devotion in our lives that will be so powerful, so infectious, we will continue to do it every single day, until, at the end of the year, we are finally satisfied with what we have done. 

Mac lived his life that way, each day, bringing a whole new perception of the saying, "Live each day like it was your last."

We must learn from Mac and Lillian and apply it to our own lives. Whether it is the challenge of being blind and raising a family or the joy in playing in the great outdoors, each day we need to instill a level of passion and devotion in our lives until it becomes so ingrained in us that we are not only content but fulfilled with our lives. 

Guys, today is our year.

Home

Wow, I can’t believe it, here I am, two years later. I’m home.

It’s funny, a few months ago, it finally hit me that I was going back. When it hit me, my heart would race, my stomach would drop, my palms would sweat and my mind would race, asking myself questions like, “Will anyone remember me?” or “What if I get there and no one recognizes me?”

However, two days ago when we were headed to our first day at LOAMO my heartbeat was steady, my palms were dry, and my head had achieved this state of tranquility that I had no idea existed. It was like my body knew, I was on my way home.

Before the van was even put in park I jumped out running. I was shortly greeted by a sea of hugs. The kind of hugs you clench the other person so hard, because the thought of losing them from your grip it makes your heart sink.

After a more than warming welcoming, I got a chance to settle in. I was eager to get to work, but at the same time I wanted to see what has changed over the past two years. At first glance I thought nothing had changed. Mr. Kimaro’s handshake was still firm yet generous, Madame Mary’s smile was still beautiful and contagious, baby class was still drop dead adorable, Madame Happiness still scares me, and the students still exhibit an incomparable drive, value, and love for their education. Really the only thing that had changed was a new coat of paint, some new uniforms, and a few new faces. At the time I didn’t think much of it. In fact, seeing these new faces kind of bummed me out. These new faces replaced some of the old staff the I thought was irreplaceable.

That was until I met Mr. Mallison, one of the few new faces. After sitting in on one of his math lessons, I was completely dumbfounded by his passion and enthusiasm that he displayed in class. It was completely unlike anything I have ever seen in the classroom. I had a hunch he wasn’t that passionate about adding and subtracting mixed integers. So I asked him, “Why do you teach?” Contrary to the typical response, “Well I don’t do it for the money.” He Replied softly, looking me dead in the eye saying, “The one who gives, receives more than what they are giving.” He continued saying, “I give students the knowledge they need to pass class 6 math. But they give me the knowledge to succeed in life. They teach me more than I have ever taught them.

I sat back, dreaming of a world in which every day I go to work I am not only happy but I am receiving a lifetime worth of lessons in return. If I am ever so lucky to accomplish that I will be forever grateful. I hope that if I continue to strive, like Mr. Mallison, that dream will come true.