James "Rhio" O'Connor Scholarship Essay

Some may say that I have had an easy life so far. My parents are still together and in love, I come from a white, middle-class family, and was encouraged to attend a university. Yet as I take a step back from my day to day routine and contemplate my life so far, I wouldn’t call it a cake walk. The challenges I have faced, although not as earth shaking as some, have formed me into the person I am today. I have struggled and learned in the classroom; I have dealt with my ethical stances in a public college that doesn’t agree with me; I have learned responsibility by living on my own.

Someone once told me that Good is the enemy of Great. This has always stuck close with me throughout my life thus far. Being complacent about doing a good job easily keeps you away from accomplishing extraordinary things. James “Rhio” O’Conner could have fallen into this very same trap. Hearing he had a year to live, he could have reflected on all that he had lived through and decided that he had lived a good life. He could have chosen chemotherapy and watched the last months of his life be swallowed by miserable pain. But he didn’t. He chose to step above what was expected. He rose to the challenge and pioneered new options by his extensive research and tenacity. He chose the road of Great and let the road of Good fade away in the rear view mirror.

O’Connor was diagnosed with mesothelioma, which is a cancer that attacks the linings of your organs, such as the pleura of your heart and lungs. The cells begin to uncontrollably divide and will invade and damage the tissue and organs around the cancerous area. The mesothelium, the lining, that is targeted protects organs and also produces a lubricant for organ movement. By damaging this, there can be friction because of a beating heart or expanding lungs which would cause shortness of breath, inflammation, and obvious pain.

During my junior year of high school, my aunt contracted non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It was the first way I had ever been touched by cancer and left a deep impression on me. I saw her go through all of the chemotherapy and the pain and sickness that caused. I also saw her as she went through stem cell replacement therapy. It was sickening to me to see her in so much pain when I could do nothing to help. During this time I often wondered what I would do in her situation.

If I were to contract a cancer such as mesothelioma, I would do everything within my knowledge and power to overcome my cancer. I would research and learn everything I could about the cancer itself and treatments available. I, with help from my family, would look in books, academic journals, talk to doctors I know personally and contact those that are specialists in the field.

I would choose to be a fighter because my life is not mine; it is God’s to give and take. Who am I to say I am ready to go before He does? Who are the doctors to number my days? The Lord will go before me and has my days ordained (Ps 139:16). I would rejoice in the opportunities given to me to impact lives around me and encourage others going through a similar battle. But I would not give up. Giving up would be succumbing to Good, to Okay. I choose Greatness. I choose to fight. I choose life.

There are too many beautiful things in this life to not fight for a chance to enjoy them: the feeling of sun on your face, the smell of the ocean, the birds’ song in the early morning, a baby’s laugh, chocolate truffles, a kiss, the feeling of loving support from your family, winter’s first snow, a parental hug, helping your own children on their wedding day, watching your own family grow through the generations. I would never give up on my opportunity to enjoy these things to the fullest. This life we have is so beautiful, and I want to enjoy every last drop.

A Mother's Radiance

Something beautiful happens when a woman truly embraces motherhood. Her focus shifts from herself to her children and family. There is no time for vanity and selfishness. Vanity is turned to virtue, self to selfless. This sacrifice of a mother has rewards in character and heart. Although the beauty of her youth may fade, the beauty of her virtue will illuminate her. And that, my dear friends, is the beauty that will last.

Carmina Burana

Last night I went and saw Carmina Burana for the first time, and those of you who are familiar with it can imagine my thrill. It was magnificent. When I was little I remember judging beauty of music by dancibility. Thank goodness tastes change, and now I can say that I would much rather listen classical music forever than the latest Miley Cyrus hit. There is something about choral music and a full symphony- cliches aside, it tickles and delights my ears more than anything else. The genius it takes to construct it is so intensive. It's complicated, it's long, it's a journey the composer leads you through. There is a definite sense of delayed gratification while you sit for an hour and a half or more. It takes patience, but the beauty is correspondingly deep. It's well worth it. 

I can honestly tell you that I've lost touch with pop culture. I don't know who's pregnant, engaged or making a comeback. The Office is even losing its appeal, but I know I'm gaining something that's far more precious: Less of an 'entertain me!' mindset. I now use a little more patience with my entertainment while still learning not to take life too seriously. I want less Brittany, more classical, more sunshine, more cheese, more laughter, more child's play, more baking, more fresh tilled earth, more gratitude for the grace all around me.

But so as not to take me too seriously in my musing, here's a little something from my reading that made me laugh out loud (If you have a good sense of humor and need a laugh, I highly recommend Alice in Wonderland. Alice is clever and practical, not at all like the ditz they have in the movie. But there isn't room to go there now): 

"You can draw water out of a water well," said the Hatter; "so I should think you could draw treacle out of a treacle well - eh, stupid?"

A Someday Hope

The Children's Hour

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

Between the dark and the daylight,

      When the night is beginning to lower,

Comes a pause in the day's occupations,

      That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me

      The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is opened,

      And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,

      Descending the broad hall stair,

Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,

      And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:

      Yet I know by their merry eyes

They are plotting and planning together

      To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,

      A sudden raid from the hall!

By three doors left unguarded

      They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret

      O'er the arms and back of my chair;

If I try to escape, they surround me;

      They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,

      Their arms about me entwine,

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen

      In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,

      Because you have scaled the wall,

Such an old mustache as I am

      Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,

      And will not let you depart,

But put you down into the dungeon

      In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,

      Yes, forever and a day,

Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,

      And moulder in dust away!

A Beautiful Reminder

Psalm 13

How long, O Lord? Will you forget
me forever?
How long will you hide your
face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my

soul and have sorrow in my heart all the

day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted
over me?

Consider and answer me, O Lord my
God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep
of death,
lest my enemy say, "I have prevailed over him,"
lest my foes rejoice because I am
shaken.

But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully
with me.

This is probably one of my favorite psalms. Not only do I love that it is short and sweet, but the last two verses are so powerful to me. David is crying out to the Lord in distress, yet he still see's God's goodness and grace- trusting in his steadfast love, rejoicing in his salvation, and realizing how bountifully the Lord has blessed him. What a beautiful reminder of how blessed our lives are, how much joy we have in our salvation.

A Challenge From Lewis

A few friends and I have been going through Mere Christianity this summer and in my reading last night, Lewis was talking about many topics of social morality. In chapter three, book three, he discusses the point of charity in a way that was truly convicting. Take heed of this man's great wisdom.

"Some people nowadays say that charity ought to be unnecessary and that instead of giving to the poor we ought to be producing a society in which there were no poor to give to. They may be quite right in saying that we ought to produce that kind of society. But if anyone thinks that, as a consequence, you can stop giving in the meantime, then he has parted company with all Christian morality. I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc., is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving away too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charitable expenditure excludes them. ... For many of us the great obstacle to charity lies not in our luxurious living or desire for more money but in our fear- fear of insecurity. This must often be recognized as a temptation. Sometimes our pride also hinders our charity; we are tempted to spend more than we ought on the showy forms of generosity )tipping, hospitality) and less than we ought on those who really need our help."

Too many dandelions

I've always struggled with the idea of having my own blog. It sounded exhausting, but today I found out that I actually already had one. And so, I'm going to give it a shot, but there are no promises on consistency or wit. So, onto something from my own mind.



Yesterday I was working in my garden, which sounds nice and romantic, but with the hard ground and weeds I felt more like Drudge in Mr. Sensible's radish garden than a truly successful gardener. All the same, I couldn't help but notice the difficulty I had with a few patches of the larger weeds. They had flourished, somehow, in the hot weather and were a little tough to unearth, where as the newly sprouted ones popped right up. What a great reminder of our sin. When it is small and new, it still takes work to make things right, but it is much easier than if we let the sun go down while we are still wallowing in our bitterness, anger, resentment, etc. In that time the seed soon gets to be more than we realize and when it comes down to the weeding the task seems daunting. The point is to not give the devil a foothold to begin with. Do not let his little sin-weed take hold and flourish so that we are not trying to play clean up with the big prickly problems that are the worst and most painful to pry out.