Have you ever had a moment or experience that reaffirmed your belief in miracles? After just spending my second weekend at Comfort Zone Camp, or CZC (see this post for an overview of the organization/a summary of my first weekend back in June) I am brimming with the peace and hope that can only come from spending less than forty-eight hours with some of the most courageous and inspiring kids and adults on the planet.
To further the "miracle" argument, I should probably mention how I originally found out about Comfort Zone in the first place. I saw a story about the organization on the Today Show exactly two years ago now, a month before my own loss. (It's worth mentioning that I hardly ever watch the morning news in the summer, so this was a very isolated incident). I was so deeply moved by the organization's mission that I made getting involved a goal for my impending post-loss self. I made the nearly two hour drive to Waltham for the day long training, despite intense nervousness. I had no idea what to expect, but after that day, my desire to go to camp increased exponentially.
This is the perfect example of how a moment can change your life (in this case, a four minute news story). This weekend, I heard countless other involvement stories from other volunteers. Each of us heard about CZC in vastly different, and yet similarly incredible ways. Another college student in my group, who lost her dad when she was five, saw the same Today Show story while on vacation in Myrtle Beach. Still another heard from a friend who had just lost his own parent, and randomly saw a CZC billboard in New York City.
Along with my recent realizations of the inherent goodness of so many, I have come to appreciate timing. In this case, "timing" is referring to life's timing. I am the first to admit that sometimes I can get so caught up in the "what-ifs" (a theme I can almost guarantee will define many entries in the coming year) that I forget that I am not in control and just have to trust that what is meant to happen will happen. And that's that.
My "little buddy" at CZC and I were originally matched for my first camp last August. We had even spoken on the phone two days before camp, and her sweet, angelic voice moved me in a way I could not explain. I was so anxiously awaiting the privilege of meeting her and sharing in her grief journey.
Fast-forward twenty-four hours later: I receive an email from CZC that the weekend had to be cancelled due to the foreboding Hurricane Irene that was making her way up the coast. Devastated is not a strong enough word to describe how I felt in that moment. I already felt such a such a strong connection to this little girl, and believed that she was "lost" forever.
Now, just over a week ago, I receive my match assignment: the name from last August appears in my file. I was matched in August 2012 with the same girl.
No way, I thought. Just the odds of being matched for a weekend are relatively slim, as the number of volunteers far exceeds the fifty-five or so campers that can attend any one weekend. Not only was I matched with this girl once again, but I later found out that she almost didn't come this weekend; she was one of the very few accepted off of the wait list.
Someone wanted us together.
And as the weekend progressed, it became clear why. My little and I are so similar, it is downright frightening. She even speaks some Italian (which was not on her profile, or mine that I submitted originally). We are both goofy in the same offbeat way.
Because of her and CZC, I am beginning to trust in timing again. Why did I have to wait until 2012 to meet my little? Why couldn't it have happened earlier? I'll never know. Perhaps I was not ready to fully support a grieving child a year ago, when I was still in a state of emotional turmoil myself. I am sure it still would have been fine, but helping others when we need help ourselves presents its own set of challenges, challenges that may have been better met alone at that time.
But what is meant to be, will be.
So tonight, I am grateful for connections. Those connections that give me the comforting feeling of holding the end of a bunch of strings extending in infinite directions, a type of never-ending spiderweb. It is a small world out there, and the world in my eyes seems to grow smaller as I get older. I am choosing the be reassured by the fact that so many unseen forces are at work in my life, forces that may come to light in an hour or tomorrow or ten years from now. I am choosing to trust that I am in the right season, a season of waiting and anxious anticipation and millions of unknown possibilities. I can only pray that the kids at CZC will trust in their own timing, timing that will not always involve the frantic uncertainty that comes with grief, but will eventually lead to a life of wisdom and fulfillment that can only come with learning to live.
No comments:
Post a Comment