We’re all designed for greatness

Do you ever have days when you’d like to let off steam; get some things off your chest in a loud manner, as though you are a baseball manager getting in the face of the umpire and his bad call and kicking some dirt on his shoes?
I started my day feeling like that. I wanted to throw back my head and shout with my biggest voice, “This is not fair!”
Life isn’t fair and expecting it to be is simply foolish.
My daughters’ friend was killed in a car accident recently—a life claimed long before it was time and my daughters are struggling to make sense of things, trying to get their young minds around the madness of grief and loss.
An impaired driver hit my niece with her two small boys, an accident that easily could have extinguished the bright light that each of them are. Thankfully, they survived, but my tummy is burbling and complaining about what could have been while I focus on what is.
I turned on the television last week to block out the constant and annoying “beep-beep-beep” from the paving crew on the road that passes by our house. The good news: our road no longer will have holes in it large enough to swallow a vehicle.
So putting up with the stink and noise easily should be tolerable. You’d think.
On the television was one of the 30 million advertisements for the 2012 London Olympics. It is a huge deal and I, in no way, want to downplay such an event of natural talent and the bringing of the world together. But it got me thinking, again, about greatness and our standard of such.
My very dear friend, Lorraine (Lorraine-the-wise I like to call her, but don’t tell her that as it may go to her head), told me the Hebrew translation for perfection is “operates as designed.” I take that to mean that if each of us strives to be the best version of ourselves, then simply put we are perfect and all destined for greatness.
These athletes heading off to London have made huge sacrifices in their personal lives to be on this adventure.
They crawled out of bed when their bodies would have chosen otherwise, and trained and trained—then trained some more.
There were those who dedicated years and years to “perfecting” their skills and missed attending the Olympics because of a moment’s test, who came up short in a heartbeat.
Would they have done things differently? I somehow doubt it. The passion that burned in them, that kept them striving to be “better,” was what they were designed to be.
What about all these other souls operating as they were designed to operate? Are there gold medals for those of us who do the right thing? While my niece sat on the side of the road comforting her children after she safely maneuvered her battered car to a stop, a passer-by brought Freezies to these two little boys shivering and crying and fearful.
That is worthy of a gold medal.
While my girls are aching inside, they and Brianne’s friends are gathering to comfort one another and sharing the best stories of her, holding up their memories of Brianne with honour and respect—a gold medal in friendship.
While we were biking in P.E.I. and looking lost, four young men stopped their vehicle and offered up their assistance with a friendly, “Can we help?”
A gold medal in welcoming.
A message from my friend, Jamie, a voice from the past telling me about Jack Hedman’s book, “A Gift Of Gab,” transported me back to watching our FFHS football team—Jamie racing for a touchdown while we in the bleachers jumped to our feet with screams of delight as Jamie crossed the goal line, arms extended over his head.
A gold medal, indeed, in memories.
We are all designed for greatness. Greatness does not mean flawless, it means quietly doing amazing things.
I bump up against such greatness every day I am alive, and I am so very thankful.
wendistewart@live.ca

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