My team had a good bye lunch for one of the fellows who’s rolling off. Eventually the talk turned to everyone’s favorite meals growing up. Since some of the guys are quiet, I try to draw them out a bit.
We had Irish, Slovak, Hispanic and Indian ideas offered up.
“What’s your favorite family meal?” I asked J.
“We just ate whatever there was, there usually wasn’t much.”
Silence from the rest of the team.
J continued, “It was the Chinese Cultural Revolution, and my parents were taken from the university and placed on a farm to be laborers. In fact, I had developed a fever that wouldn’t subside and my family took me to the hospital, but there were no doctors. As they left to return home one of the janitors followed them out of the building. He told them that their baby was very sick, and he would die if he did not receive medicine. It turns out the janitor was a doctor who had been reassigned, and by speaking to J’s parents the doctor was risking his life.”
J’s parents got the medicine and herbs the doctor advised and the little boy was saved.
We all sat for a minute, and I felt how precious life is, and how fragile it can be. I am often reminded that when the world looks bleakest, that heroes and goodness remain.
Here’s to everyday heroes who do good, you chance might be right around the corner.