More Than a Gold Medal

A KODAK moment. When time stops. A memory is made. A heart is touched. Recently, I was moved far beyond words by one such act. An act of sacrifice, friendship, and love.

Coaching swimming has always been a pure privilege. Perhaps it is solely the fact I've been blessed with some of the greatest kids on earth, but regardless, each swimmer contributes a portion of that privilege. From the constantly radiant Myada, Hodder's out-of-the-box humor, Kent's amazing bone-crushing hugs, Kayla's enlightening conversations during practice, or Gebaly's ability to make me smile, each one is a special gift to my life. 

Amazing personalities aside, they also lack no talent. In my two years of co-coaching the traveling squad, they produced two dominating ISST titles (a European championship---we are the only African-based team). This story unfolded after their recent victory in London. Following the championship, the team went out for a celebratory dinner in Esher, slightly outside the city.

After dinner, Dorien, a JV swimmer and my dear friend, approached me carrying a medal. Placing her gold medal in my hand, she shared, "This is the first ISST gold I've ever won and I want you to have it because I could have never done it without you!" My reaction? Speechless. Without a doubt, this medal means FAR more to me than any I have ever won. It represents more than merely a first-place finish. It is a symbol of dedication, appreciation, sacrifice, love, and friendship.


Gets me thinking, in our lives, how often do we bypass the opportunity to express our gratitude? Do we stop long enough to contemplate the many lives who have poured into our own? Do we live life with the "I deserve it" mentality, or with the appreciation that all we have is a gift? Are we as the one leper who, after being healed by Jesus, (see Luke 17:11-19 for the full story) came back to give thanks or the other nine who went on their way? Are we that exception in society recognizing the love we have been shown? Most importantly, do we recognize and acknowledge the love God has shown each of us in providing the opportunity to know Him?
Gratitude requires humility. This is where our efforts of appreciation often stall. We must recognize our need for another. Prior to going to His cross of execution (where He died in the place of His friends---you and me included), Jesus picked up the towel and assumed the humbling role of a servant washing His disciples feet...including the feet of the very man who would soon betray Him. Afterward, He shared, "I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you." (John 13:15) No small order when considering the One speaking, but Isaac Watts summed it up well, "Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."

For followers of this Jesus, the greatest gold medal we can place in His hands is a life which embraces and reflects His love. A life of sacrifice on behalf of others. One which brings peace to the striving, hope to the desperate, love to the lonely, grace to the marginalized, and mercy to the oppressed.
True gratitude is far more than a word said. Rather, it is an action taken. Perhaps that is why Jesus went on to say in the same setting, "Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other." (John 13:34-35)
Dorien has forever stamped her memory on my life by this simple, yet profound act.

How different our life  would be if we adhered to the words of artist John Southar, "The only people with whom you should try to get even are those who have helped you." How different our world would be if we embraced the life-transforming reality of Jesus' aforementioned words, "In the same way I loved you, you love one another."
This lesson won't be forgotten anytime soon.
In case I'm prone to forget, there is a gold medal hanging in my room to remind me.

(blog entry inspired by and dedicated to my friend Dorien)

The Journey Home

As the honking horns, bustling streets, masses of pedestrians, and chaos of Cairo slipped beneath the smog and clouds, my eyes began to fog up. As my reality became a memory, my mind was flooded with countless recollections of birthday parties in the slums, swim practices during dust storms, treks in the desert, meetings with government officials, and coffee with friends. This place I once only knew as Egypt, had become "home." These kids who quickly became friends were now my "family." Reclining in my slightly broken aisle seat of Egypt Air flight #777, it hit me. Life would never be quite the same.

Due to allegations, accusations, and threats, the decision was made to step out of a place I had grown to love. Yet my heart begs the question, "Where is home?" The cliché, "Home is where the heart is!" somehow leaves me hanging. When I recall the painful goodbyes standing on a sidewalk in Covent Gardens (London) attempting to say something of substance to a team of swimmers I love, or my feeble efforts at bidding farewell to precious individuals in Cairo who are far more than mere friends, I recognize the inadequacy of linguistics and the emptiness of au revoirs. Corrie Bramsen Mutilva summed it up brilliantly in these words:

With a few of my dear friends/swimmers in Cobham

Some people say that home is  where the heart is,
But that saying leaves a question in my mind,
'Cause my heart has taken root in several countries, Does that mean I leave a part of me behind?

There's a portion of my heart that's in the desert,
And another part that's in the USA,
I have sisters and brothers in each nation,
And it hurts each time I have to go away.

But I've come to learn home is more than just a country,
I can have three homes, or four, or even more.
For home is anywhere I'm serving Jesus.
It's anywhere He's opened up the door.

So home is in the dunes of the Sahara.
And here in Carolina's mountain domes.
And wherever He may lead me in the future,
I know that He will make it home, sweet home! 

As tempting as it is to wallow in the discomfort of change, God has called us to live as pilgrims in a world which is, ultimately, NOT our final home. Rather than focus on the absence of dear friends left behind, how thankful I am that God gave me the opportunity to know and be blessed by each of these lives. From the Karim Hassan's to the Myada El-Barkouki's, my life will never be the same. 

As a follower of Jesus who believes in His work and words, there is the promise that He has conquered death and offers eternal life. (for the complete story, see here) Thus, it is vital to recognize AND live out our true identity. Philippians articulates, we are "citizens of Heaven." (3:20) NOT in the future tense, but rather, the present. Our lives are to be a reflection of our identity and our life's pursuit ought to show our faith—or may I suggest, it DOES show our faith. The only question is, "Do we really believe it?" Does your life show your hope beyond the grave? Or does death still carry potency? 

In the book of Hebrews, the author notes [after reviewing a number of incredible lives], "Each one of these people of faith died not yet having in hand what was promised, but still believing. How did they do it? They saw it way off in the distance, waved their greeting, and accepted the fact that they were transients in this world. People who live this way make it plain that they are looking for their true home. If they were homesick for the old country, they could have gone back any time they wanted. But they were after a far better country than that—heaven country. You can see why God is so proud of them, and has a City waiting for them." (11:13-16) The word for "transients" (strangers) most literally means, "without a share" (think stock market). These are the ones whose investment is not in temporal commodities but in eternal assets.

Are we living for eternity, or merely for time? The separation, changes, and divisions on earth only remind us of our temporary residence status. This life is not forever, but the impact and decisions we make will echo in eternity. Are we prepared to lay aside the temporary for the sake of the eternal? Does not our heart compel us to live for more than this world can offer? The plethora of goodbyes create a longing in my heart for something more permanent.

In the musical, Fiddler on the Roof, Hodel, the second daughter of Tevya (lead character), is leaving home/family to join her lover in the wastelands of Siberia. As she parts from the train depot, she sings these words to her Papa: [edited]

How can I hope to make you understand, why I do what I do?

Why I must travel to a distant land, far from the home I love.

There where my heart has settled long ago, I must go, I must go.

Who could imagine I'd be wandering so far from the home I love. Yet... there with my love, I'm home. 

My friends I will forever hold dear.  My heart breaks each time I part ways with loved ones because they provide a glimpse of our deep longing for permanency and relationship. Wherever I unpack my suitcase or brew my next pot of coffee may have different surroundings, language, and people, but to those I leave in the wake, allow me to say as Wickham eloquently expressed in Pride and Prejudice, "Let us say not farewell, but as the French have it: 'Au revoir!'"

Life is the journey. Heaven is my true home. That place where "my heart has settled long ago." On that day when I see Jesus face to face, then the tape will be broken, the race will be won, the pilgrimage will be done, and I will be home. Until then, "I must go."