What brings me to this point in my life that I must travel to Africa? Where in my soul do I feel God’s call? And how do I translate it into a meaningful journey for myself and all of the hearts of the people I am taking with me?
I trust. I pray. I hope. I hope for clarity of purpose. I hope for eyes to see what God has for me. I hope for compassion and grace. And I hope I will make a difference.
Getting the opportunity to change another’s life is constant. Choosing to do it and then succeeding is the miracle.
I read a quote that said that the role of the journalist is to speak for them that have no voice. As some journalism becomes more about entertainment others will certainly step up and take the reins. Is that part of my role? to speak for those whose voice cannot be heard? I can see that yes that makes sense to me.
I am not for the faint of heart and I am not ashamed of that. And it just occurred to me that the work I’ve chosen and the life I’ve chosen is also not for the faint of heart. I am so thankful that I am a tough little monkey. I’m strong, focused, determined and intent on using all my skills in a more powerful way and with greater success than I have ever done before.
I am curious about what fears and obstacles I will face. The only thing between any of us and our greatness is the “we” or “me.” And I want the “me” to continually becoming less of a problem. How have I learned to do this — and how can I teach it? How can any of bring a message that changes the outlook for others — that gives them more hope, greater clarity and the knowledge from their heart that this is possible.
I know that living your dream and possibly losing it all in the attempt is better than never having that focus.
Coming to Rwanda is not scary. I believe Keir’s (Keir Pearson, screenwriter of Hotel Rwanda) expression that evil touched down in Rwanda is as clear a way as any to describe how this happened. It’s the why that I seek. And while I am blessed with a less inquisitive mind than most, I look for answers and seek a way that those answers can bring us a greater truth than we ever would have known without that set of events happening.
I know so clearly that we are all the same. And for those who believe that the color of our skin, or our birthplace or our social status make us better or different they are, quite simply, wrong. When skin rots off a body and all that is left is the frame that help the organs now vanished, we are all simply the same. And so what do I do with this unoriginal revelation. I look for answers; I look for success; I look for wisdom, in anyone.
A child’s clarity of the world is breathtaking. A beautiful 8 year old child who looks at the world very seriously asked me why I was coming to her country. She looks at the world very seriously because she has already had disappointments and so things matter to her.
And I told her I was going to Rwanda to talk about hope. And to tell the women of Rwanda that if they believe and focus that they can be anything they want to me. And she looked at me with the eyes of an old soul and said, “the African people will like you very much.” So that is my prayer. That this “like” will come from a place in them that is better for us meeting.
I am not coming to sightsee or be a sight. I am coming so that whatever this burning thirst is that is within me can be slaked if only partially. And that the information and respect shared can come back to America and be geometrically multiplied.
What drew all of those women to our event? And how do we keep their fires burning or their embers glowing? And what are they doing to change their world?
What one small thing could each of them begin today that will keep them on the road to becoming their personal best. The smallest kindness to a child, the aged, a creature cannot be overlooked. The words spoken in anger, once said, never stop causing pain. And the gentlest of smiles can change someone for a lifetime.
I am not overly optimistic about this. And if you’re reading this and think I’m a little much, you’re wrong. I am just right.
My Mother Rita was the wise woman who saved me from never knowing true joy. She lived through hell as a child and determined at a young age never to become her Mother. And through sheer determination, she did not. She was no saint, but she was an angel on earth without wings. She loved me and my brothers without demands, without expectations, and without strings. And she was irresistible to us all. She knew truth – and was not shy about telling me when I was wrong. And that’s how she’d simply say it, “Vic, you’re wrong”. And she was usually right. So I’ve picked up that lovely trait of not defending what I know is truth, just living it.
So how do I take this incredible wisdom to a great level. I share it with others. And I ask them to know that they know what they know. And then prove it by living it.
I ask my clients to push themselves hard. And when I don’t ask, or they don’t push, I don’t think the conversations nearly as interesting to either of us. But to strive and yearn and reach and touch the dream is what unleashes joy. As I yearn and reach and strive to find wisdom I am reminded that this goal is not for the faint of heart. And where evil can touch down, grace will surely follow. And may this grace follow me in these next few days.
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