Walking For Others' Lives

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

That's what we're told right?

But it's the thought that counts.

No.  Not really.  No it isn't.

If you could have done better, could have put in more effort, intended to do more, but you didn't, so you just grabbed something really quick for that friend's birthday party, gave your $1 at Safeway to end childhood hunger, and then went home and felt better about yourself, you're going to hell.

Just kidding.

I actually don't believe in hell, not the red devil with a pitchfork in eternal flames hell, anyway.

I do believe that heaven and hell are here.  Children are molested.  Women are raped.  Innocent, good people are murdered in the streets completely randomly.  Every day.  Meanwhile, children are born into lives of privilege, never knowing suffering.  Women go to good colleges and become top executives or doctors with proud middle class families.  And innocent, and not so innocent people live out their lives without harm or pain coming to them, ever.

I do believe that it is the job of those who either have never known suffering or who have survived suffering and come out of it to help those still suffering.

I come from the latter category.  I have lived a life painted in both bleak and bright colors, in both vibrant reds and violent ones.  During some periods of my life I suffered greatly and, turning to my left and my right, only saw others who suffered alongside me.  There seemed to be no end.  There seemed to be no help.

But I got up each day, I worked through my darkness, and others did come along who were able to help push me up and out of a dark cave.  

Now, having survived, having found a firm footing, I have wondered what I can do to turn around, reach down, and lift others up.  I have wanted the cause I fight for to be a personal one.  Abused children?  Maybe.  Abused women?  Perhaps.  Uneducated people looking for a chance at education.  Definitely, and I made that my career choice.

In terms of volunteer work though, something to which I could purely give, without asking anything in return, nothing had spoken to me.  Honestly, I did not look as hard as I could have.

Then a friend at work happened to ask me if I wanted to do the Avon walk for breast cancer with her.  And a light came on.

This could be the beginning of volunteer and charity work for me, I thought.  I can do this.  I can fight for this.  This is real to me.

Breast cancer, and cancer in general, has been a constant in my life.  When I was still a teenager my grandmother had a breast removed because of breast cancer.   Around the same time, I myself had to have a benign lump removed.  My mother has been through two bouts of cancer.  An aunt is now recovering from a double mastectomy.  Yes, breast cancer was something I could take on with an open heart and a fighting spirit.

Why Avon and not Susan G. Komen?

Avon is another constant for me.  It rang true when my friend spoke its name.  My mother discovered Avon sales and depended on the profits from those sales while she was recovering from cancer surgeries and chemotherapy.  Avon felt right.

I also had only just begun to run five miles daily again (after taking more than two years off to have a baby)  when my friend asked.  Running and walking have also been constants in my life.  They are my favorite forms of exercise.  Yes.  Yes, I could do this.

And so I will.  I run daily for my life and my health.  In three months I will walk for the lives of others. I have already received the support from those closest to me and received financial commitments from many others.  I have never fundraised before, and the idea of harassing people for money is terrifying to me.  But the idea of actually accomplishing my goal, $1800 by July 11 in order to be able to participate in the 40 mile walk, is exhilarating.

So I make the calls.  I send the messages.  I train daily.  I face my fear.

I have been described in the past as not very outwardly empathetic.  I do not deal with others' pain well emotively.  I do not know how to sit with someone while they cry, while they suffer.  I am bad at commiserating over hurts and harms.  I tend to address my own painful past very matter of factly, and as a result I address the pains of others in the same way.  What can we do?  How can I help?  What do you need?  Let's act.  Let's do.  Let's get up and go.  Oh, you just want me to sit and listen?  To offer kind words.  Ugh.  I'm horrible at that.

But I can walk.  I can raise funds.  I can spread the word.  I can fight.

I am great at fighting.