A Heart For Others
There is so much suffering in the world. I have always been tenderhearted, but it wasn't until after my son's unexpected death in February of 2016 that my eyes were truly opened to the pain around me. It was no longer glimpsed from a sheltered position, but fully seen and felt in a heart that had been shattered at the loss of Jordan. This heart wound is of such a magnitude that it colors my very existence, but I have learned that I can obtain a measure of comfort by stepping out of my own pain and helping others.
After Jordan's death, our family established a memorial foundation with the purpose of performing small acts of kindness in a hurting world. Our hurt was so overpowering that I envisioned a foundation with a far-reaching mission. I dreamed of traveling to Africa and feeding the hungry. I wanted to shelter the homeless and uplift the downtrodden. I wanted to do great and wonderful things in my son's memory. I wanted his special light to continue to shine bright. And it does, not in the way I once dreamed, but rather in a way more reflective of our Jordan. Small acts of kindness can have big results, even if we don't see them.
Jordan's character was evident even as a young boy. I remember a crisp fall afternoon when Jordan was about six or seven years old. He was next door playing football with the neighborhood boys. There was a developmentally delayed boy who lived on the block and he had apparently asked to join the game, but was denied. Soon after Jordan and that rejected little boy were playing football in our front yard, with Jordan acting as both coach and cheerleader. He had a heart for others. He was brave.
About six months before Jordan's sudden death, I invited him to join us in a spur-of-the-moment family event. I can't even remember what we were planning… what I can remember is Jordan's disappointment at missing the get-together and the reason for his absence. A work acquaintance was moving, and the group of people that had committed to help with the move had one-by-one canceled. In true Jordan fashion, he explained that although he hated to miss our family event, he did not want to leave her without any help and, above all, he did not want to hurt her feelings. He had made a commitment and his word was always golden. He was loyal.
Jordan... my son and a teacher of my heart. Our time together was much too brief, but I hold tight to the lessons he taught me. It is unlikely that I will travel to Africa to feed the hungry, but I volunteered this week to feed the hungry in my own community. I sponsor a beautiful young girl in Africa... maybe she will grow up and make a difference in her community. I hope so. It is not the size or scope of the contribution we make to the world… it is the contribution itself that matters. When I focus on my own journey, my grief is almost more than I can bear. When I reach out to lend a helping hand to others, I help myself shoulder my grief and I reflect my son's light. His earthly journey may be over, but his light shines on! I miss you, Jordan.
