Ordinary People do Extraordinary Things

In a recent commencement address at the University of Portland, Paul Hawkin said, "What I see everywhere in the world are ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty in this world." Part of our mission at Bcelebrated is to inspire people to do just that: use their ideas, talents and resources, however limited, to making the world a better place.

I've spent the better part of my life working in the field of corporate social responsibility and environmental protection. Most of my friends and colleagues have dedicated their lives to making the world a better place through business or non-profit organizations. They've been a constant source of inspiration to me, and have encouraged me to do more with my own life.

But when we at Bcelebrated think of people who are making the world a more beautiful place, our thoughts aren't limited to the activists, business leaders, and celebrities making bold statements and influencing large groups to bring about change. We also think about people like my next door neighbour in Santa Monica who ripped up a big portion of her lawn and replaced it with an organic vegetable garden. We think of our friend's daughter, Faith, who encouraged children in the schoolyard to stop picking on the new girl. We talk about the woman in Vancouver who adopted an old blind dog, knowing that nobody else would take him.

The more we discover ordinary people making the world a better place in ways big and small, the more inspired we feel. We assume it's the same for you.

That's why we want to hear from you. Who do you know that should Be Celebrated? Is there someone in your community making the world a more beautiful place through their actions? Would their story inspire others? Show us and we'll show the world. We want to share videos of ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

Sign up for a Free Trial of Bcelebrated and share your story with the world. You never know who you'll inspire.

Courage to Love

I met my love when I was living in a small village in Mexico.  One day the local vet asked me if I would take a dog for the summer. She was returning to the US for several months and needed someone to look after this stray she had been minding. I was reluctant. I had left everything I knew and loved and had moved to this small village to heal. I thought that healing meant just taking care of myself. I had spent most of my life taking care of everything but myself and it was time to focus on me. A dog was something I would need to take care of and I wasn't up for that.

I ended up saying yes and "Gimpy" as they called him, because of a leg injury, was dropped at my door with 20 lbs of dog food the very next day.  I wish I could tell you it was love at first sight but it wasn't. He was shaggy and scrawny. He had fleas and worms. He was lethargic and spent most of his days looking for the coolest tiles in the house to lay his head.  I accepted him and knew I would take good care of him, but I also knew he was going back to Pamela as soon as she returned to Yelapa. I didn't need the hassle of  dog in my life.  

There was no doubt he was smart, but not smart enough to fawn all over me. I was, after all, his meal ticket. He didn't seem to care. He did what he pleased when he pleased. I was somewhat incidental to him. Most of the Mexican dogs will do backflips if you show them some attention, learn to scrub your floor if you give them some food.

A day after Gimpy became "mine" I felt something stir.  My heart was opening and I was giving it freely to this dog. I bathed him and gave him flea treatments. I spent 1/2 hour every morning massaging his joints, and a 1/2 hour brushing him every night. The more I did for him the more I loved him. I changed his name to "Guapo", which means handsome, because the more I loved him the better looking he became.  

I was reminded of all this today when I read an article in The Vancouver Observer. The article was called He Stunk to High Heaven. I loved Him Instantly. A woman named Kellie Ann met an English Bulldog in the pound. He was stinky and old and almost blind. He was bored by her. She took him home and loved him anyway. She wrote, "About twenty baths cleaned him up and his hair mostly grew back in. He snored like a drunk and farted like a sailor." He died four years after she adopted him. I was sobbing as I finished the article. I was in awe of this woman who adopted a dog knowing she wouldn't have him for long. I couldn't imagine myself being brave enough to adopt an old dog, knowing that heart-ache would be just around the corner.

What touched me about this story is that this woman loved that dog not for what he could give her, but because he was there to be loved. It reminded me of my experience with Guapo and I realized in reading this article that up until Guapo I had been afraid to love again. I had moved to Yelapa done with men and done with dogs. Loving both had broken my heart. 

Loving is scary. It is not for the weak of heart. If love can promise anything it is that it will break you open at some point. I'm sure Kellie Ann's heart broke when Chester died only four years after she adopted him. And I know my heart will break when Guapo dies one day. I also know that loving him has enabled me to love more. I met my husband in that same small village shortly after adopting Guapo. And that has already broken my heart. I hurt when he is hurting. I feel his pain as if it's my own. I fear the day that we'll have to say goodbye to each other, if we are lucky enough to get that chance. But I know now that no matter how short-lived it may be, it is worth all the courage it takes to love - both my dog and my man.

Get to know your mother

OK, I admit that I've got mother on the brain. Tis the season. My last posting was about writing a letter to your mom, saying all the things you'd want to say if you knew you were going to die, then exploring how the act of writing that letter might shift your relationship with her.

Then I came across an article in REAL SIMPLE magazine that I thought was REAL GOOD. The more I read, the more I recalled that my best times with my mom have been when we've had time alone together and I've curiously asked her questions about her life. Did she always believe in God? What did she think when she met my father for the first time? Does she have any regrets? What keeps her up at night?

She's fascinating to me, just as I'm sure your mom is to you, or would be if you really got to know her. Knowing more about my mom teaches me about myself, but more importantly I get a much clearer picture of who she really is, I feel my love for her more deeply and we become closer.

Part of the purpose of Bcelebrated is to help people to live more inspired lives. I think this list of questions to ask mom, (you could use them for dad too), is a great resource of inspiration.

Ten Questions to Ask Your Mother

Enjoy!

Debra

A deeper connection with mom

I don't know if it's just because Mother's Day is right around the corner but young moms seem to be coming out of the woodwork to tell us here at Bcelebrated how much they appreciate the chance to leave private pages for their kids. This was not something we had expected. We thought that the service would appeal mostly to boomers who were facing their own mortality, or helping their aging parents make the transition.

It turns out that becoming a mom inspires some women to face their own mortality. To our surprise young and not so young moms are catching on to the benefits of Bcelebrated faster than anyone. They are vitally aware of the cycle of life and the importance of leaving a message of love that will last forever.

When my girlfriend Nancy told me why Bcelebrated was important to her it helped me understand the perspective of moms. She said:

"I lost my mother when my daughter was born so I know what a void a departed mother can leave. I have often wondered how I could help prepare my own daughter for this difficult transition when that time comes for her. As emotional as this thought can be, Bcelebrated gives me a unique way to comfort her in some way when I am gone. I have things I would love to share with her about life and about my life in particular that she won't truly appreciate until she is older and more experienced, maybe even as a mother herself. In writing the private page for my her it brings into focus the things I want to tell her. And this opens up a possibility of a deeper connection now while I am still alive."

I'm especially drawn to the idea that as Nancy writes private messages to her daugther, messages that will not be read until my friend has passed away, it opens up the possibility of a deeper connection between the two of them now.

 

I don't have a daughter, but I am a daughter, and it got me thinking...

What if I wrote a letter to my mom with the thought that she would read it only after I am gone? Might I open up a possibility of a deeper connection with her now? 

I don't know the answer but I'm going to find out.

Why not try it with me? 

Write what you would say to your mom if you knew you were going to die. 

How does it shift your relationship just to write it out? Do you feel more gratitude, are you compelled to share the letter with her now? 

Let me know if you try this, with your mom (or daughter), and what you discover. 

Happy Mother's Day

How it all began...

Dread gripped my stomach when I woke up that morning. After a glorious week in the small Mexican fishing village it was time to go home. Now, that might be enough for most people to get a sinking feeling, but it was more than that. Ominous clouds had rolled into the bay overnight. The wind was cold and the rain had started.

Covered in garbage bags for raincoats, we waited on the dock for the tiny fishing boat that would take us back to Puerto Vallarta to catch our flight. Angry waves crashed over the dock soaking our legs. When the boat finally arrived we fell over one another trying to find a seat and our balance in the choppy water. As the boat pulled away from the protected bay the waves grew higher, rougher and more terrifying.

This had been a return visit for my husband and I. We had met in this village six years earlier when I was living here. It had been a wonderful vacation, up until now. I had seen bad weather on this route back when I lived here, but I'd never seen anything like this. The “captains” never fear, always staying light-hearted and jovial. So when the seasoned captain and his friend stopped joking and passed out life preservers – something I have never I'd never seen them do before – I knew we were in trouble. Deep trouble. There were not enough life jackets for us all. And most adults were given kids sizes.

As waves crashed over the bow I was convinced I was facing my death. The shore was only visible when we would crest a wave. Otherwise it was gray sky and water in every direction. I don’t know why, but I didn't fear death. Maybe I was still on the high of celebrating six years with the love of my life. I became acutely aware of all the blessings in my life and I felt ready to go.

Still, I had a haunting feeling. My poor mom and friends would have to try to figure out how to reach all of the people I know to inform them of my death. I've lived in three countries, I have friends all over the world, and I’m not very organized with my contacts. Where would they look to figure out who my friends are? How would they know who is relevant and who isn’t? Would anyone think to contact Omar in Sri Lanka? Would they find that ratty old phone book?

No matter how many times my mom has told me, I've still not gotten around to creating a will. So how will anyone know my last wishes? Will people argue as they try to figure it out? These thoughts bothered me more than the thought of actually losing my life. I felt terribly irresponsible.

Not only would my loved ones be grieving my death, but they’d be left with the nightmare of figuring out who to contact and what to say. Not an easy job at all. I also realized that I have things I want to express. If I was going to die I’d like to have a chance to say that I don’t’ mind, I’ve loved my life, I’ve learned so much, enjoyed so many things and felt the love of such good people. I’d do it all again if I had to and I really don’t have regrets.

We eventually reached the shore. The captain threw our luggage on the beach. Water poured out of it as if it had been salvaged from the bottom of the ocean. As if it was a scene from a movie - the winds died, the sun came out and our bodies slowly dried. Once I stopped shaking and Mark had a beer in his hand we talked about what we had just experienced. A few months earlier our friend Charles Campbell made a passing comment that “it would be great to have a service that sent an email out to everyone you know at the time of your death”. We knew in that moment on the beach that we would develop that service. But more than that, we knew from our experience that it’s important not just to be prepared for death but to celebrate life and we were determined to help people do that.

That is how Bcelebrated.com began.