Individuals who began the practice of making and eating this salad daily reported a reduction in:

This weekend marks five years since my grandmother on my mother’s side passed away. I did not even realize this until I opened Facebook tonight and saw a picture my aunt posted.

It was a picture of my mom, my aunt, and their mom- my grandmother. I read the post and became very emotional. My grandfather also passed away right before the Fall of my junior semester at UNC.

Recently, I have been thinking of them a lot. In general, I’m a very emotional person, and I like to feel. Like, I truly feel privileged to have the capacity to feel. It’s an honor to experience pain, sadness, hurt, anger, loneliness. Even these emotions have a deeper meaning.  

But before I saw my aunt’s post, I went to talk to my mom about ideas for an upcoming project I have. We began to disagree about various topics, so our discussion became a bit heated as both of us were having difficulty expressing ourselves and getting frustrated doing so. In the end, we found some common ground, came to a conclusion, and I went to finish some work for class.

But I checked Facebook first. And the first thing I saw was that picture. And my heart suddenly began breaking for my mom.

It leaves a weird hole in you when you love your parents and then you realize they don’t have parents to physically love anymore. And then you think again and realize that it happens to everyone. So, you do that thing where you block the thought out of your brain because it’s too horrible to even think about.

And I guess for me the situation is elevated by the fact that I never got to spend time with my grandparents like most of my friends. My grandparents live thousands of miles away in Moldova. It would be impossible for me to stop by for dinner or stay the night. And you know what I’ve decided? That’s crap. No grandparent should ever have to live far from their children and grandchildren; no grandchild should have to go without grandparents.

The picture above is from 2013.

In Moldova, all houses have a gate and fence around the property. People usually have lots of space inside to keep a garden and sometimes animals. The green gate in the photo is the outside of my grandparent’s house. My grandmother’s eyes are so sad in the picture. It was the last time I would see her in person. We all cried that day. And my heart broke a little then too.

I feel lucky that even with the distance, I know how much they sacrificed for me, and I know how much they loved me. And even though we spent little time together in person, they left a huge mark on my heart and on who I am. I will always carry their advice and love with me. I honor them with my life.

Empathy is a theme quite a few of my blog posts cover. I think it is because I find empathy relevant to everything I do. Empathy is not only important because “what other choice do we have,” but because it’s the only choice that matters.

What other species can we communicate with? Who else can we love and share stories with? Who else can we try to understand? Who else can we save? History is important because it makes us who we are, as a collective and as individuals.

I made sure that every chance I got to spend with my grandparents was spent with empathy and humility. What could I learn from them? How could I encourage them? I could never assume I’d be given a second chance to get to fully know them. 

The more I grow and learn, the more I feel that empathy is meant to be a constant state of being. In a way, empathy is context. It allows us to put ourselves in the shoes of others. When we talk to and interact with others, context does not disappear. People carry it with them. If we speak to others in a way that lacks some degree of empathy– even if we don’t necessarily know their context– we allow anger, frustration, offense, war, hatred, confirmation bias, hypocrisy, and so much more to rule over our relationships.

At the end of one of my classes today, my professor told the class that each of us has built a self, a profound self that matters and has a chance to do real good in this world. That broke my heart too. But in a good way. In a way that softens it and creates more room for loving others.

In my time at UNC, I have met many broken people. Many without fathers and mothers. Many who live alone. Many with anxiety and depression and health problems and issues. Many individuals handle insecurities and rejection caused by other individuals who hurt them in a way no human is ever meant to be hurt. And the fact of the matter is that it’s not even just “many people.” It’s all of us. We are many people.

So, when I heard a professor bless his students with such encouragement, confidence, and belief in them, and when he spoke those simple words that I wish everyone could hear every day, I got emotional. I felt a wave of something I don’t really know how to explain. I think it was mostly thankfulness. Thankful that a group of about 40 students was given something to hold on to. They were told they are worth it and to keep fighting.

If we have eyes to see, we’ll find that there are so many things to hold on to. So many reasons to keep fighting and loving.

My aunt (left), grandmother (center), and mom (right).

In a recent informational interview, I was advised to clarify the “why” supporting my application. My interviewee said, “if you convince us why you want to join our program, we’ll say why not.”

This advice was significant to me not only because it helped me narrow my focus and improve my application but because it prompted me to identify the “why not” areas of my life. What convictions am I willing to fight for? What ideas inspire who I am? What devotions thrust my path forward? 

Sometimes I don’t think it’s sufficient to ask questions like, “What are you passionate about?”
You can have many passions that do not necessarily frame your life. 

Even so, life is too short to be lived without passion.

I like to build relationships. In fact, I think building relationships and connecting with others is one of the fundamental reasons for our existence. In creating relationships, we can begin to understand the heart of our Heavenly Father.

I’ve had the chance to meet so many individuals from various geographical locations globally and many cultures. I’ve connected with people of all ages, professions, and religious affiliations.  

I think my brain is wired to understand people. 

I often experience moments where my heart channels such a high degree of empathy that I can understand exactly how someone feels without ever having experienced their situation. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it’s heavy, but it’s always beautiful to meet people where they are. 

One of the fundamental ideas that frame my life is that I believe all people are born for greatness and that every person holds within them a treasure the world needs that only they can offer. However, sometimes a person is born into an environment with variables that subdue their ability to manifest the “treasure” within them.  

In other words, there are internal variables (like depression, anxiety, fear, anger, insecurity) and external ones (like location, family, finances, violence) that hinder our ability to accomplish our life’s purpose, dreams, destiny, or goals. 

Over the years, I’ve realized how fortunate I am to be part of a loving family that has instilled a Godly identity in me. My parents bless and encourage me every day. I’ve been given so much love, health, and support that it would be a waste of my potential to not share it with others. Out of the overflow of the goodness poured into me, I can share it with others.

Everywhere I go, I notice that every person desires to be desired. Everyone wants to be accepted and recognized by others. I’ve seen grown men break down and cry from the desperation of not finding their place or feelings of inadequacy. I have friends who subjected themselves to eating disorders because they felt they would not be accepted as they are. Every day, I see people—including myself— compromise who they are to become what they think others find desirable.   

Misunderstanding our true identity is the root of feeling not good enough or living in a constant search for acceptance.

In knowing and developing my own identity, I found my personal “why.” I’ve made it my goal to uncover the greatness I see in people. I want each person to know that they are loved and worthy, simply by virtue of being human, a child of God created with a purpose. I see myself as an agent who is able to lead people through and out of the hindrances preventing their full potential from breaking through.

I’ve decided to bring this posture to all of my relationships. The more secure we are in our identities, the more we’ll know the path our feet must walk. We find direction in knowing who we are and where our strengths lie.

I encourage everyone to find their why, whether it’s big or small. Why do you want that job, and why you get up every morning? Find what drives your life and eliminate all insecurities that stand in the way of reaching your full potential. 

Early morning. Missed flight.

Rebooked and rerouted. Charlotte, North Carolina to Denver, Colorado.

3-hour flight. Beside a stranger.

Slumped on the seat. Exhaustion prompted by the 4 a.m. wake up call.

Stranger says, “Can you help me?” 

I turn my head, look into the stranger’s eyes, and put on an invisible smile. “Of course!” 

Many firsts.

It was her first time flying. First time in an airport. In a few hours, she would see her first grandchild for the first time.

“Are you nervous, excited?” I asked. 

“I am all of it,” she responded.

Reassuring words from me. Then, sharing personal stories. 

Observing the expression in her eyes as we exchanged words.

The eyes in front of the mask began speaking to me. It was her only unguarded feature and I accessed their story easily.

The woman’s jaundiced eyes revealed a battle with health. A soft look of tired surrender indicated a life of long-suffering and a determined resolution of hope. 

Naturally, my eyes reciprocated expression and emotion. 

Wetness in her eyes. As if on the verge of tears.

They imparted an infectious posture of raw excitement and awe. 

We connected. Trust as we discussed. 

A stranger not five minutes ago opened up to me in ways I couldn’t expect.   

It was difficult to overlook the feelings of expectant curiosity swelling within me.

Experiencing her world.

3 hours later, arrived in Denver. 

An image of a broken, yet whole individual painted in my mind.

An understanding of life’s betrayal, yet the ever-present beauty it holds.

A resolution to authentically connect with people. To learn their stories.

End of hour three.

Found treasure sitting beside me. 

Final destination: Sacramento, California.