Lent Day 10: Grief and the Bronze Medal, but Gold in Our Hearts

Yesterday I wrote about being extremely tired and made an Olympic comparison.  Specifically
I felt like I had left everything (all my energy) at work this week and I didn't get an Olympic medal.

Part of that fatigue was that after many hours of work and having interviewed four library director candidates (I'm on the search committee for our town's public library) on two consecutive nights, I couldn't fall asleep Thursday night.  So I did more of what I've done for 13 nights:  watch more Olympics.

Which was kind of a mistake, because I started something I shouldn't have:  watching the lady's figure skating long program.  I'm not a huge fan of this particular sport, but I do enjoying watching it.  This year I've been amazed by the talent of the top ten skaters.  And two nights prior I felt that I had seen "The Moment" of these Olympic games:  Joannie Rochette skating her short program to a third place standing.  It wasn't just the quality of her performance; it was the fact that she even competed at all after her mother's sudden death just last weekend.  It was an uplifting performance, and it was hard not to get misty-eyed.

So I had to watch Joannie skate again Thursday night... which meant that to watch one skater I'd have to watch the entire "flight" of six skaters (and all without commercial interruption).  It was well worth the time.  It was one of the most riveting Olympic events I've ever watched, with each of the final six having her own scintillating story.  (The schmaltzy NBC late-night round-up said there was one winner but six victors -- which annoyingly was true.)  And the whole world knows now that Joannie had one of the best performances of her life and earned the bronze medal.

Honestly I was on the edge of my seat for her performance.  I just wanted her not to fall -- that is I was rooting for her just to finish so she could honor her mother's memory well.  Her score didn't matter; just the fact that she was competing was honor enough.  When she finished and hugged her father I felt that that was "The Moment of These Games."  And then she won the bronze.  I was definitely misty-eyed.

Today I watched a recorded interview with Joannie by Bob Costsas, who called the performance "grace under pressure."

Here are a few quotes/paraphrases from Joannie that caught my ear:

• "After I saw the body... the only thing I could do to feel alive is to get on the ice."
• "I skated so that 10 years from now, no regrets.  That's what my mom would have wanted me to do."
• "I needed to be be 'Joannie the athlete', not 'Joannie the person.'"
• "It was hard to be in my bubble because my mind was in a million places , not on the ice."
• "My mom always told me when you do something you give it your all."
• When receiving the medal: "On the podium I felt like I was 5 years old because I dreamt of this since I was 5... and I was was thinking of ... the one person who could not watch this moment."
• The attention being tough on her father:  "he's a very quiet person and yet millions of people are watching.   He's very strong."
• "It will be harder when we go back to the family house... I'll need to teach him to cook, clean... all the things my mom did.  He's strong.  He'll be there to support me in the future.
• "I learned English because my mother didn't have a very good education and she wanted me to do all the things I couldn't do in my life, like learn English, almost as if she knew I would be here (in the NBC interview) today."

Absolutely inspiring.