Ocean

There's something so calming about the sound of rushing waves against the warm shores.

Count Your Blessings

On June 10, 2012, my mom drove me and my brother at 7 a.m. to the Chikfila parking lot. We waited about 5 minutes for my friend Ella and her dad to pick us up and take us to Aurora High school, where the wheel chair camp was. I had to wake up at 6 a.m. that morning to get ready and I was cranky as an awoken hamster. “Why in the world did I sign up to teach this camp?” Thought I. “I’d rather be sleeping.” When I went into the bathroom to get ready, I saw my face in the mirror and was disgusted. “My eyebrows are too bushy.” I said to myself. “I hate my braces. I wish I had blue eyes.” I would say these things to myself every time I looked in the mirror. I was not able to appreciate the features that already were given to me because I never knew a life without them. But teaching that wheel chair fencing camp and witnessing what life was like without the blessings I took for granted changed me forever and this is why I believe that volunteering to help those less fortunate than you can change you for life by giving you a new point of view.

   One of the ways in which helping those less fortunate then oneself can change one’s perspective, is by helping one be grateful for the things one has. Before I taught the wheel chair fencing camp I had never witnessed a life without being able to use my legs. I did see people in wheelchairs and church and at the mall sometimes, but I never got the chance to talk to someone in a wheelchair and see firsthand what their life was like. Prior to teaching the camp, I took so many blessings for granted. One of the things I took for granted was that I had two parents that loved me very much. “You are very lucky you have parents that love you.” said one of the campers, “My parents won’t even talk to me. They hire someone to talk to me and to take care of me.” When she said this, I thought of all the times I talked back to my parents and disobeyed them. I felt guilty. I rebuked myself and told myself to be grateful for my parents.

   Not only can helping people who are not as fortunate as oneself help one be grateful for what one has, but it can also teach us to be happy with the way we are made. Before teaching the wheel chair camp, I hated a lot of things about myself. I disliked my eye color, eyebrows, and height. I always wanted to be prettier or taller and was not happy with the way I was made. But during the camp, I talked to a lot of the campers. There was something that a camper said that changed my life. “A lot of people look at me and feel sorry for me because I can’t move my legs.” She said. “But I am happy with the way I was made. Honestly, I think that walking is scary!” “What?” I pondered to myself. “She likes the fact that she cannot walk? If she can be happy with how she is with two legs that do not walk, why can’t I be happy with the way I am with two legs that do walk?” Now, I am happy with the way God made me. I turned away from criticizing my body and instead, I thank God that he allowed me to have two functioning legs.

   Aside from teaching me to be grateful for the things I have and for the way I was made, teaching the wheel chair camp taught me that I did not need to constantly compare myself with others. I used to always compare myself to my friends wishing I was as tall, skinny, or pretty as them. But once I learned to be happy with the way I was made, I stopped comparing myself to others. What was the point? Comparing myself to others would not make me like them. And once I liked the way I was made I did not even want to look like the people I compared myself to anymore.

   By helping those less fortunate then me, I learned to be grateful for the things I was blessed with, to be happy with the way I was created, and that I do not need to compare and contrast myself with others. I was given a whole new perspective on life. I saw that everyone is beautiful. Each and every human being is created uniquely and everyone should know that they are very special.