Hi William. I'd like to take the liberty of telling you a little story about myself. It's a very ordinary story, the kind that has happened to many, many people over the years. But its very ordinariness plays a crucial part in the point I hope to make.
Years ago, when I was in college, a group of us went camping. Some of us were fairly experienced campers, while others were total greenhorns. One of the greenhorns and I were sleeping by the campfire. Suddenly, I woke up to the sound of screaming. When I opened my eyes, my first impression was that I was on fire -- there were flames everywhere around me, all over the ground. It looked like I was in the center of some sort of sacrificial ritual. Then I looked over and saw someone entirely in flames. His shirt was ablaze, so was his hair, and he was waving his flaming hands all around like some macabre version of the Human Torch.
For a moment I wanted to run, go save myself, get away from all the fire around me. Then something I never knew was there kicked in -- I leaped out of my sleeping bag, snatched it off the ground, and jumped on my companion, finally smothering the fire that was burning him up. I then put out the flaming can of Coleman Lantern fuel (the poor fool had tried to restart the campfire by pouring it directly onto the glowing coals) and finally stamped out the scattered pools of fire that had nearly set me ablaze. The whole thing was over in maybe 15 seconds.
Afterwards, as we drove the burn victim to the hospital, a couple of my friends told me that I was something of a minor hero, having saved a life with some quick action, arguably while in some personal danger. It was cool for about 15 minutes. And then it was over. And all these years, I've never bothered to mention this story to anyone, until right this moment. Why should I? Ultimately, whatever role I played in saving my friend's life was absolutely secondary to the fact that he successfully recovered without lasting injuries.
By now I'm sure you can see what I'm getting at. All over the place, every day, we walk by people whose personal histories include stories like mine, many vastly more impressive and meaningful, incidents of courage and quick thinking in the face of personal danger. But they don't define their lives by it; they did what was required of them at the moment, and then they got on with their lives. Forgive my presumption, but isn't it possible that there's something to be learned by their example?
