heaven is a better place today
Mar 08 2007 09:31 AM filed in: life in
general
I did not
want to stay at camp, the first time I went to camp.
I wanted to go to camp, mind. I had spent months pestering my parents about it. I had joined the Scouts because I thought you had to be a Scout in order to go to camp. I had absolutely no idea what camp entailed, but I knew that I wanted to go to camp.
And the day finally arrived, and my parents dropped me off—and the realization hit that I was expected to spend two whole weeks without them for the very first time in my very young life…and I did not want to stay at camp.
In my mind’s eye, I see Bernie’s kind face, and vaguely recall that she somehow—through some gesture, some word—made feel that it would be OK. I didn’t know her yet, but I knew at once that I didn’t want to let her down by not giving it a chance, and that with her there nothing bad could ever happen. By the time my parents came to get me, I never wanted to leave. In a way, I never did.
I know my memory of Bernie is coloured by my age when I knew her and tempered by the distance in time between then and now, but I also know with utter certainty that my understanding of what it is to love unconditionally; my ability to believe in myself and in others, and in the magic and the beauty of what is inside of all of us; my sense of the importance of being a part of something that is bigger than myself, and in doing so leaving the world a little nicer place than I found it—all of this is shaped in no small measure by her presence in my life.
Bernie is one of the first people I can remember who loved me just because I was me. Even as a child, I struggled to always live up to others’ (real or imagined) expectations, but for a few glorious summer weeks, I was free from every expectation except that I try to be the best “me” that I could be. No “could have” done better or “should have” done differently or “might have” been more successful if only… None of that: just a quiet understanding that, even if only for a little while, just being who I was, was…enough.
I remember how a hug from Bernie made a small girl feel like the most special person in the world. Of course with the benefit of hindsight I realise I was no more special than any of the hundreds of other girls who came temporarily under her care. No more special…but also no less. We were all special—and oh, so fortunate.
With Bernie, you simply were, and because you were, you were loved, and that was all there was to it.
She left the world a much nicer place than she found it. But still, today, the world is just not the same.
I wanted to go to camp, mind. I had spent months pestering my parents about it. I had joined the Scouts because I thought you had to be a Scout in order to go to camp. I had absolutely no idea what camp entailed, but I knew that I wanted to go to camp.
And the day finally arrived, and my parents dropped me off—and the realization hit that I was expected to spend two whole weeks without them for the very first time in my very young life…and I did not want to stay at camp.
In my mind’s eye, I see Bernie’s kind face, and vaguely recall that she somehow—through some gesture, some word—made feel that it would be OK. I didn’t know her yet, but I knew at once that I didn’t want to let her down by not giving it a chance, and that with her there nothing bad could ever happen. By the time my parents came to get me, I never wanted to leave. In a way, I never did.
I know my memory of Bernie is coloured by my age when I knew her and tempered by the distance in time between then and now, but I also know with utter certainty that my understanding of what it is to love unconditionally; my ability to believe in myself and in others, and in the magic and the beauty of what is inside of all of us; my sense of the importance of being a part of something that is bigger than myself, and in doing so leaving the world a little nicer place than I found it—all of this is shaped in no small measure by her presence in my life.
Bernie is one of the first people I can remember who loved me just because I was me. Even as a child, I struggled to always live up to others’ (real or imagined) expectations, but for a few glorious summer weeks, I was free from every expectation except that I try to be the best “me” that I could be. No “could have” done better or “should have” done differently or “might have” been more successful if only… None of that: just a quiet understanding that, even if only for a little while, just being who I was, was…enough.
I remember how a hug from Bernie made a small girl feel like the most special person in the world. Of course with the benefit of hindsight I realise I was no more special than any of the hundreds of other girls who came temporarily under her care. No more special…but also no less. We were all special—and oh, so fortunate.
With Bernie, you simply were, and because you were, you were loved, and that was all there was to it.
She left the world a much nicer place than she found it. But still, today, the world is just not the same.
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