Nine high school juniors leaned toward the screen to hear a guest speaker share that he was born blue, spent weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit, and had his first experience with homelessness when his mom took him from the hospital. His introduction to life was full of struggle.
Svante Myrick lit a path over and around obstacles to excel in school and become the youngest mayor in the history of Ithaca, New York. He knows something about humble beginnings as the foundation for a bright future, so when he told our fellows he can see their greatness even if they can’t yet, they believed him.
When he signed off, one of the students said she’s often told to lower her expectations; that who she is and where she comes from means the potential she sees for herself is a mirage. After hearing Svante’s story, she said she’s going to aim high, no matter what anyone thinks. He forged a bright path, and she can too.
There are artificial cues that tell us when to light up and when we should stop, as if the circumstance of our birth means our future is set. And there’s an unspoken rule that as we age, we lose potential and should accept that loss and be content.
So much of what happens in our lives is out of our control, and yet, if we embrace the real job we’re born into, to engineer a life of purpose, we gain some control over our direction and the path we want to build. And aging builds strength. Experience is an incredible teacher, and time allows us to develop a real sense of gratitude.
I don’t mean gratitude for scraps or for being able to eke out a living or elbow enough space to be yourself. We all know everyone deserves more.
I mean deeply felt gratitude for all the forces that open doors, including the force of our own power. I mean gratitude for gifts of grace, like a hand up when you fall, and for the support that lights your future.
When a friend was rejected as a blood donor, she decided to become a surrogate and help a couple struggling to build a family.
I know you want to reread that paragraph. Go ahead, take your time.
When the Red Cross was bored with my blood, I took a baby step and donated plasma. I didn’t offer to share my greatest gifts — from my body to my health to my time and family — to create life for strangers.
I’ve never heard anyone equate giving blood with surrogacy, and the comparison surprised and delighted our group. An impossible connection sparks possibility. Both are opportunities to be of service in ways that are personal, meaningful and manageable. The scale is different, the intention the same.
The twins she carried are out in the world, lighting their way into the future, because one woman’s bright path was constructed to include a selfless act. I think she was able to do it because she was grateful for her good fortune, and she put her gratitude into action.
Her choice is just one of a zillion glowing paths that prove there’s no limit to possibility, and while you’re designing your bright future, you can change course to make your world different and better.
At any age, in any circumstance, we’re all perfecting our life’s design.
Roger’s mom has baked a different cake to share at church every Sunday for more weeks than I can count. Not a single recipe has been repeated, though the result — taking home an empty plate — happens weekly.
She remembers her neighbor’s favorite dinners, and when she makes a stew or roast, she calls her hungry friends to come by and get the share she made just for them. She has an enormous network of extended family, kids, grandkids and great-grandkids, and she remembers every birthday with a card.
It’s hard to feel capable all the time and to remember how our choices, big and small, have meaning. It can be hard to see all the ways we can bend gratitude into action, marry thought and purpose, to create the greatest glow.
I’d like to think I’m different; that I’m somehow always in the moment, aware and intentional in my choices. I’m not. There are times when my light dims, my path isn’t clear, and I bump into others. I hope those moments are temporary and, no matter my age or circumstance, I’ll get back on track.
When I sit down for Thanksgiving dinner with my family, Roger and my parents, whom I love dearly, and my friends who’ve become family whether they wanted to or not, I’ll take a moment to feel my heart swell. I must be shining enough light to draw in so many incredible people.
And I’ll make a wish for the future. I hope we all experience deep gratitude and the potential resting within. And I hope our gratitude, when put into action, puts possibility aglow.
