Be the Cause

Compassion Cell at the Special Olympics in L.A.

Sunday’s Special Olympics games started with the athletes’ recitation of the following: “Let me win, but if I cannot win, then let me be brave in the attempt” — a motto, which according to the speaker for the opening ceremony, was said by gladiators before heading into battle. This set the tone for the day, where athletes of different ages from all over Southern California came to compete in tennis, bocce, track & field, shot put and softball in spite of their mental and physical challenges.

To say that they are “handicapped,” “retarded,” or “special” would immediately connote or evoke some sense of pity, that they are “below normal.” Yet watching them in their elements, playing, surrounded by their friends, family and coaches, I was amazed by their abilities to rise to the challenge of competition, to capitalize on so many months of training. On some level they were also competing against themselves. Part of the mission of the Special Olympics Southern California is to “give [athletes] continuing opportunities to develop physical fitness, demonstrate courage, experience joy and participate in a sharing of gifts, skills and friendships with their families, other Special Olympics athletes and the community.” In short, these games put these athletes at the top of the world, where they are treated as winners, and rightfully so. They are not winners because they received medals, but because they transcended their vulnerableness in front of hundreds of people. They know the value of perseverance, and it showed.

I thought about this notion, and what it means to push our own limits; what makes our potential grow? In a way, like gladiators, these Special Olympics athletes compete for honor by “staying alive” — by finishing the race even though they’re coming in last, by running the race and not letting the braces, the two metal poles clamped to their arms get in the way, by still throwing the ball even though it may not travel very far. For one day, they were made to feel special in a different way, and several Be the Cause volunteers contributed to that. We cheered those athletes on, and rewarded their efforts with a sense of pride, true accomplishment. It was definitely a fun day. Some of us acted as escorts, shaggers, timers and measurers (and had fun with puns). Each volunteer also came away with having accomplished a genuine act of kindness.

The second L.A. Compassion Cell is now over! Just as the Special Olympics athletes push the envelope, so too do we, stretching our capabilities and growing in service.

Evening in Africa Speech

Most folks from Be the Cause know that I don’t necessarily plan all my talks. But for this evening in Africa, because of the complexity of the continent, I thought it would be good to prepare something. I felt that the audience should know how poverty, women’s rights, health care, HIV/AIDS, corruption, culture and education all tie in together. So at 2:00 in the afternoon when I should have been getting ready to leave, I decided to go for a walk to think about what I would say. I thought to myself, I have to talk about third-world debt and how some African countries accumulated an exuberant amount of debt through unfair practices… and how crippling it is for these countries to now repay these loans back. I thought, I have to talk about Bono from U2 and how inspiring his work with one.org is. I thought to myself, I have to talk about Be the Cause and how a simple act of kindness three years ago has rippled far out into the community.

So as I’m thinking of what to say, I make a turn on my block and a woman comes to approach me. Then she turns away, and then approaches me again. She asks me “Are you busy right now?”. I obviously reply that I am free, after all the event is only in a few hours. She proceeds to tell me that her husband is lying on the floor of their house and cannot get up. He has been lying there for two hours and just got back from the hospital after a heart attack a few days ago. The husband is not allowing his wife to call the paramedics.

As I followed her into the house I thought to myself, anything can happen, I don’t even know who these people are. In that moment, I decided that whatever belonged to me, I would give away freely to these people.

Sure enough, as we walked into the bedroom, her husband lay there on the floor. I could tell he was embarrassed as the only article of clothing he wore was a pair of boxers. His wife grabbed him from one side, I from another. Struggling, we were able to place the upper half of his body on the side of the bed. We then went for his legs and somehow twisted and maneuvered until he was finally safe in his bed.

As I left the house, I thought to myself, finally I have a story to tell. I walked around the block recounting the experience I had just had when the woman approached me again. This time all she said was a sincere “Thank You”. She proceed to ask me if I was friends with her neighbor “Mary Ann”. I knew Mary Ann and had walked with her before… it was in that moment that I realized that this experience on my block in sunny Southern California was related to the continent of Africa 9000 miles away.

In Kenya, several months ago, when a few of us were volunteering at a Medical Clinic, we were asked to give a presentation on who we were and what we were going to do in Kenya. At the presentation, we made it clear that we did not have anything to offer the people of Africa, but had much more to learn. In the rural town of Mbita, Kenya, all the locals knew each other by name, they left their doors unlocked and their kids roamed the streets with no fear. Many times we would find children playing in the streets with no adult supervision.

During that presentation, we confessed that in America, we did not even know the names of our neighbors.

This afternoon, around my block, a neighbor now knows me.

If we do not think of our neighbors as one of us, then we cannot help them. If we do not think of the people of Africa as one of us, then we cannot help them.

With the words of U2: “We’re one, but we’re not the same. We get to carry each other. Carry each other. One”.

Sukh

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