February 15, 2013
Change Over Time
As a young, ignorant child, I had always perceived the world was filled with people who were better than myself. Like most adolescents, personal image and how others perceive you was extremely important. I wasn’t much different. I compared myself to everybody I came into contact with and it always seemed that whoever surrounded me was in better shape and also better looking. Irritated by my poor self-image, I began to exercise more than five days a week and started purchasing the “cool” clothes the popular kids wore. Little did I know, I was missing the true meaning behind life and was plagued by a self-absorbed, minimal perspective focused on myself. It took me until eighth grade to transform my selfish perspective into a wider perspective focused on individuals in much greater need than myself. Regretfully, it took me thirteen years of life to understand the art of compassion and to realize that there is always somebody who has it worse than myself. I’ll never forget the time when I came to the realization that there was more to life than trying to impress others and caring about only myself. Each Sunday- after attending service at church- it was habitual to run errands for the remainder of the day. On this Sunday, everything seemed to change, drastically. As my family and I slowly strolled towards the entrance of the Fox River Mall, I began to recognize that there was an abnormal amount of people turning their heads our way. More confusing yet, many of them were younger faces, even younger than my thirteen year-old self. I began to think about why they were looking at us. Was there something on my face? Had my mom or dad tripped and fallen down? Why was there so many people looking at us? I looked at my chubby face with the reflection on my cell phone, there wasn’t anything on my face. I turned around to check on my parents, whom were still both walking behind me. Then, it hit me like a break away train. I knew exactly why these strangers were staring in our direction. They were staring because of my older brother, Brett. Of course, like most people, they weren’t used to seeing a person with a disability such as my brother’s. Brett, who was born with Down syndrome, had unknowingly always brought not only unparalleled, but also unwanted attention to himself without ever saying a word. Due to my past closed-mindedness and selfish attitude, I had always thought people were looking at me when there was attention cast in my direction, but now I realized this was never the case. I now look back on this day (May 16, 2007) as the greatest epiphany of my life. A day that forever opened my closed perspective. A day that forever changed me not only as a person, but also as a brother. We all know that this world can be an extremely cold place at times and even a small act of compassion sheds a little light. With this in mind, I strive to show compassion whenever it is possible. Whether it is holding the door open for a stranger, saying “hello” to somebody I’ve never spoken to before, or simply picking up an item somebody had dropped on the ground, I believe that this small act will have an impact on his or her day. Motivated by my brother and his disability, I began coaching the Special Olympics basketball team that he played on when I was fourteen years old. The amount of humility