I join the millions of Americans who have an every four year summer addiction to watching people pummel their bodies and minds to crazy extremes in the summer Olympics. I love the stories, I love the glimpse into the lives behind the champions, I love the dark horse champions who no one saw coming. What I’m really looking forward to are the olympic gardener events: speed weeding competitions and synchronized mowing. Can’t seem to find it on the line up….
This weekend I’ve stolen moments to watch who the champions inbetween fun cookouts and fireworks with friends on Friday night, Old Crow Medicine Show concert at Fontanel with another group of friends on Saturday night, and a dinner with a house full of teenagers tonight. But reality at home collided with the reality in London when I started thinking about the stories of what makes a champion.
Friday night out our cookout included a family of six who left the next morning to take their sixteen year old daughter to compete in track at the Jr. Olympics in Houston, Texas. But their time and energy that evening were often taken up with their 18 year old autistic soon who could hardly wait for the fireworks display (we had to keep an eye on the constantly disappearing bag of fireworks). They discussed their plans for adopting a son from Russia and getting their oldest son settled into his college dorm room. As I looked at what makes a champion – the perseverance through difficulty, the positive attitude, building for the future, pressing on when others would quit – this family is olympic gold in my mind.
Saturday night we went out to eat at The Pharmacy in East Nashville and then on to the concert. A fun group that included my beautiful friend, who during her first year of residency after medical school, suffered a paralyzing injuring that has left her dependent on a wheelchair for everyday life. As we laughed at how we loved to go places with her because we got to always go to the front of the line and get great seats at the concert, our special privileges come at the price of my friend’s lifelong disability. Yet my friend is full of laughter, delightfully entertaining, an involved and caring mom to her teenage daughter, and a woman full of compassion to others around her. My friend Sara is a gold medal champion in life – a gold medal winner in life.
|My friend Sara in the middle|
Winners are all around us – let’s celebrate the champions in everyday life.