March 2002
My Paralympic volunteer experience began on a not so special fall day some two years ago. Two friends mentioned they were going to volunteer for the Olympics and thought it would be fun if we all volunteered together. On the day I sent in my application I had no idea what I was in store for. It’s an experience that has touched my heart profoundly and left me feeling proud and honored to have been involved.
Saturday, March 2, 2002 I headed to the village to begin what I’d been training for. Two years I’d waited. I’d watched other volunteers in the Olympics. I’d participated in those games in the nightly events and was eager to jump into my own volunteer experience. My position? NPC assistant – that is to say: National Paralympic Committee assistant – or assistant to a delegation president. In my case I would be one of three assistants to the Chilean “chef de mision” or “president.”
Opening Ceremony for the Paralympics was on Thursday, March 7, 2002. I had the marvelous opportunity to carry the name placard for Chile in the Parade of Nations. Never did I dream of participating in such an exciting way! I knew the cheers weren’t for me, but what an exhilarating experience to feel the electricity from the cheers. The weight of the placard became a distant second thought behind the smiles and joy. The feeling was like when a child sees all the gifts under the Christmas tree and is so happy when she opens the box with the one toy she’s wanted all along. Such elation! I do remember telling myself at one point: “don’t trip and fall” – and I didn’t – thank goodness for that reminder!
After the walk around the “stage,” I found a seat with the other volunteers behind the Spanish and Korean athletes. We enjoyed the music of the amazing violinist Vanessa-Mae (astounding!), Donny Osmond, Billy Gilman, Wynnona Judd and Stevie Wonder. We danced in the stands as the rain cooled us down (not hard to do on a cold night). During Stevie, some of us decided to join the athletes on the field and we danced some more. Some big Norwegian guy swung me around and I decided I’m not so light on my feet, though I didn’t fall (thanks to that earlier reminder—whew!). The evening ended with laughter, rain and anticipation of what would come as the competitions began.
With all the feelings I experienced throughout the games, from anger and hurt to happiness and satisfaction, nothing compares to the compassion and love that would surge through me like an electrical current at the most unsuspecting times. These are the moments when I was reminded with the smallest glimpses of God’s love for all of us.
On Saturday, March 9, we (the athletes, trainers, Gloria and I) headed up to Snow Basin. It was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly and the sunscreen was passed around. The snow was a perfect white. The stands were full of spectators chattering excitedly. I joined in on the chattering and met several people. Senator Hatch sat by me and we conversed for a while. At the end of the day I got to hold Sarah Wills’ gold medal and flowers—that was just too much fun! I admired it and was going to take a picture, but hadn’t brought my camera — so in the end it’s kind of like the fish that got away. (it was this big!)
I will fondly remember the entire day for those events, but will never forget watching the blind skiers zip down an ice covered mountain at near 65-70 miles per hour. I’d heard about how awesome it was but seeing it in person was far more incredible. I couldn’t stop the tears as each of the blind competitors – men and women – were guided down the mountain by a trainer in front of them. The trainer skis in front of the competitor and guides him/her through the poles and down the mountain with a microphone. The competitor wears an earpiece and follows the instructions. The audience is quiet so the competitor can hear the instructions, but when they cross the finish line, there is a roar that consumes the mountainside.
Every time a skier came off the top of the ridge and down the home stretch, I’d tear up. It was absolutely astounding to watch. I wondered who I would trust so fully to guide me down three stairs, much less a mountainside covered in ice. And then there was the spiritual side…the thought of the ‘still small voice’ that guides us through our own daily mazes, down icy slopes and to the finish line. I thought about what would happen if there was too much noise for the competitor to hear the instructions, or if one day he/she decided to not listen – confident in their own way down the mountain. What a disaster that would be! I realized it’s much that way in life. If we don’t listen to that guide, we would be lost. We may still make it down the mountain but not to the finish line which is just a small gateway in comparison to the vast mountainside. And as I watched the first skier there came a distant echo in my mind: “…for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction and many there be which go in thereat: Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.” (Matt. 7:13-14) Sure, we may make it to the bottom, so to speak, but not to the finish line, which is where it counts. With every skier I was reminded of that echo and I was truly touched. What an amazing accomplishment! Could I do it if I had to? Would I have the courage and faith to speed my way down the mountain and follow the voice of someone I’d have to trust so completely? The experience has left me inspired and determined to overcome my own shortcomings. I’m left with the desire to act more completely on the faith I have and the courage I want to have.
I went to other inspiring competitions of Sledge Hockey and more Alpine skiing. I loved every minute of it! I ate lunch with the athletes in the village and learned how they became disabled. Their stories of overcoming the most devastating injuries are amazing. No amount of personal difficulties could ever be what these people overcome every day!
The closing ceremony was an absolute blast!! All barriers of language and culture were down. Pictures were taken of amazing people who for a moment crossed paths in life. Everyone danced together. I was asked by a very excited Armenian athlete to trade my coat for his. The only thing he could say that I could understand was: “trade?” and point to his coat, “trade?” I told him his had to fit and I’d trade. It did and he held up the coat and showed it to the other delegation members and cheered something in his native tongue. They all cheered back and I realized he was the last of the nine to trade his coat. He was elated and thanked me profusely! (At least I think he did. I didn’t understand-but his gestures expressed it plainly.) On the bus we (me and another assistant Holly) met two (hotty) hockey referees. We chatted with them about the games and their experiences. They gave us a pin of the Canadian flag. The night was just a huge success in joy and rapture.
Sunday, March 17, the troops moved out. Moving trucks bombarded the Village. Athletes moved their equipment and said their good-byes. The amazing thing about it was, it was hard to tell who the volunteers were and who the athletes and delegations were as everyone had traded coats, hats, shirts, vests, and gloves.
That morning I’d received a call from my chef (Gloria) around 7:00 to take her friends to the airport. The moment I took the call, a pit developed in my gut and a bad feeling overcame me. I looked out the window and saw that some eight to ten inches of snow had fallen and was falling still. As I got ready to go, the “bad feeling” increased; so much so, that I asked my dad to accompany me to the airport. My dad and I decided that it would be best if my dad took me to the Village in the (make it through any amount of snow) suburban and I’d come back home and pick him up in the vehicle allotted to the Chilean delegation and we’d be off to the airport. That was the plan. As we arrived to the village, he was going to drop me off at the gate so I could just walk in, but at the last minute I decided to be dropped off in the parking lot some two blocks away to catch the shuttle into the village. I'm still not sure what made me change my mind like that. By the time I got onto the shuttle I was nauseous and my hands were shaking. I knew I couldn’t go on the errand. On the shuttle I was speaking to another volunteer about the ball tightly wound in my stomach and how bad the weather was. As I told her of my errand, she told me I couldn’t do it. She said it was an unreasonable request and I didn’t have to comply. I thought to myself, "you don't know Gloria. Of course, I can't ditch the errand." As we entered the Village, she insisted I stay in the village. She told me that if I had any problems explaining to Gloria, I could come get her from her office and she’d help me. Once I got inside the village I had to make my final decision on how to handle the situation. I almost went straight to Gloria’s office, but then saw her in another part of the village and suddenly I was running the opposite direction with all my might toward the office where the assistants were stationed. I told my supervisor about my conversation with the lady from the shuttle and she agreed that it was inappropriate and against the rules for me to pick up friends of a delegation member; those friends not being members of the delegation. After discussing it with her a little longer, I decided to make that call to Gloria. She was very upset and called me a liar, telling me that it wasn't against the rules. She said she would come in to speak to me and my supervisor about it. I went to the office where the lady from the shuttle told me I could find her and told her Gloria was coming to speak to us and I’d like her assistance. On the way back to our office, she told me that she is about as high up the chain one can get. She was the only person who had the authority to physically stop me from running the errand! The only one who could take the vehicle away; and she told Gloria she would remove her vehicle if she pushed the issue any further. A very unhappy Gloria, who had no choice but to accept the decision, stormed out of the office. Once the decision was final to not drive in the storm, my feeling disappeared instantly. (The volunteer’s name, by the way, is Jan Wilson—and I will love what she did for me forever!)
I’ve thought about that morning many times. What would’ve happened if I’d been dropped off at the gate and walked in? I’d have run the errand and gone to the airport. What would’ve happened if I’d not bounced my concern off another volunteer? Or she hadn’t sat next to me that morning? She never would’ve stopped me from getting in the car. I later found out that my mom had woken up rather suddenly, after I’d left, with a terrible feeling that something was going to happen to me. I am so grateful for the series of events that took place to prevent me from getting in the vehicle. I don’t know what would’ve happened, but even by the end of that day, I felt a confirmation and I knew it would have been disastrous.
After my delegation checked out of the village, the storm subsided, the sun came out and I had the opportunity to take the Polish delegation around town. They wanted to see “Mormon” and we figured they meant Temple Square. They loved it. They took pictures of every angle of the temple and the surrounding buildings. We took them to the state capital for more pictures. They went shopping for gifts for their family and friends. Later as I was leaving the village exhausted and ready for home, one delegation member approached us and asked, “Park City?” and pointed to himself. I knew I couldn’t say no so I joined another volunteer and drove them for their last views and memories of their stay.
At the Wallmart, as the sun set, one older gentleman came out and breathed in the air and took pictures of the mountains. He had the look on his face that I’ve felt many times in my own travels. The desire to soak in every sound, smell, sight and thought that passes in the moment. He had the look of a man who has worked all his life and led the toughest type of life. He had patchy bald hair and crooked teeth and yet he wanted pictures of his stay. He touched my heart. Watching him soaking in the moment, I wanted to give him everything the world has to offer! I wanted him to never forget his time here. I wanted to know him better and understand his language to hear his life story. For a brief moment, as the light of the setting sun shone through him, I thought I saw him for who he is. No outer shell of scars and hard life, but a light shining brilliantly. The moment passed and he got into the car. The men knew Holly and I had gone out of our way to stay with them and they thanked us for it. The man with the hard life gave us each a rainbow colored fuzz-ball with eyes glued on. A silly little gift, really, but to me it means the world. It was all he had to offer in gratitude. From there, we returned to the Village for our final farewells.
The Paralympics was a time of personal reflection. A time of pure happiness and satisfaction. I never knew going into the games how much they would impact my life. I never knew how close to God I would feel and how grateful I would be for the brief crossing of path’s with people I won’t see again and how they would impact my life. It was a marvelous experience! A treasured time! One I will not soon forget!
1 comment:
Wow, what a beautifully written set of memories. I especially liked the analogy of the blind skiiers and the spiritual side of life. Amazing. Thanks for sharing it.
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