Who's your hero?

Even non-sports enthusiasts like me know that Michael Phelps was the hero of the recent Olympic games. His amazing performances won him fame, admiration and, no doubt, millions of dollars in product endorsements.

I’m no Michael Phelps, but when people praise me for leaving the comforts of home to volunteer for two years in a foreign country, I’m inclined to put myself on a pedestal not unlike the three-tiered rostrum of the Olympics. But the truth of the matter is that I did not get here on my own, the same as Phelps did not win eight gold medals on his own. I don’t know who sacrificed and worked so that Phelps could achieve renown and glory. But I’ll show you who are the real heroes in my story.

This is my family. Every one of them, from little 4-year-old Levi to my septuagenarian parents, made sacrifices without which I would not be in Jerusalem today. Each of my three siblings spent time packing, cleaning or completing maintenance projects. Each of my in-laws hauled boxes, cooked meals or watched kids so that others could help with trip preparations. Each of my seven nieces and nephews was bereft of one parent or the other while they attended to my needs.


If I could hand out Olympic medals, I’d award not one but two gold medals – one to each of my parents. They didn’t just make multiple trips to my house to help, but they lived there for days at a time. Now in their well-deserved retirement, they gave up their free time, their own bed and their central air conditioning to pound, scrub, paint and haul at my house. They were patient with me when my head spun in indecision. They encouraged me when I became overwhelmed with all that had to be done. They soothed and reassured me when the stress rendered me a sobbing mess. And when I had to board a plane on Aug. 19 and leave things undone, they went back to my house – again and again – until it was done. Tears well up in my eyes if I think about this for more than an instant.

There’s another medal to be awarded, this one to the step-mama of my cat. When I first began talking about going overseas, my friend Lois volunteered to foster my pets before I even had a chance to ask. My beloved beagle, Yukon Cornelius, went to heaven in February, leaving only King in need of room and board. So Lois is feeding, watering and scooping poop for King for the next two years. It is said that “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” But I think cleaning out someone else's litter box is right up there! On top of pet care, Lois gave up nearly a week of vacation days to come and help out just before my departure. She was my chauffeur when we needed to go somewhere. She was my brain when I was too flustered to think. She was my hands when things needed to be packed for storage at the last minute. And now she is my heart, loving my cat when I’m too far away to do it myself.

The three weeks before I left for Jerusalem was one of the most stressful times in my life. But the result of it is that I have the privilege of spending two years in Jerusalem. What my helpers got out of it was a few free meals and unlimited boxed wine. Big deal. I guess that’s what amazes me most about all the help I received – they did it even though there was nothing in it for them. As I told my parents one night through my sobs, I never imagined anyone would ever love me that much. I think I must be crazy to separate myself for two years from that kind of love.

Unlike Michael Phelps, I don’t have eight valuable gold medals or million-dollar contracts with which to show my gratitude to my heroes. I just hope they know how much I appreciate and love and miss them. And I hope they realize that every newsletter I create or web page I publish or speech I write is made possible because of their selfless service to me.