Molly

Since the theme this week seems to be "giving and helping" (as well as the Olympics), I want to share one of my favorite stories.  There are few other experiences I've had in my life that have affected me so profoundly.

In 2001, just after the world trade center tragedy and just before the winter Olympics, I was alternating between ceremonies on the road with the Torch Relay and being back at my desk in Salt Lake City.  I was in New York for Christmas because on December 26th, Ann Curry was running the torch out of Rockefeller Center on The Today Show.  From there, I followed it up to Rhode Island before heading back to Utah.

When we drove into Providence, an elderly woman with a strong Irish brogue came to greet us at the car.  Her name was Molly.  As we were talking, I asked Molly why she took the time to volunteer in such extremely cold weather.  She explained that her grandson Zachary loved the Olympics more than anything.  He wanted so badly to be there, but he was in the hospital with leukemia.  She wanted to be able to tell him that she saw the torch.

I told her we could do a lot better than that.  We could take a photo of her on stage holding the torch.  Molly was beside herself and she insisted that we sit and eat some soup while she ran to the drugstore to buy a camera.

After the photos, Molly was constantly asking how she could help us.  Her energy was endless.  At the end of the evening, I gave her a small Olympic pin to give to Zachary.

In the next month, I received a couple of cards from Molly, always filled with love and support.  One of them included the photo above.  And then on the day of Opening Ceremonies, I was in my office for a very brief few minutes and I got a call from her.  Zach had died that morning.  He was holding the pin, and he said, "I'm going to the Olympics."

Molly asked two things of me.

First, she asked that we all pray for Zach and think of his soul rising to heaven as the giant stadium cauldron was lit.  And the second request was amazing . . . . 

"Always remember," she said, "that it's not about the millions of people that will be watching the ceremonies tonight.  It's about one little boy that you made happy.  We don't have to change the world.  We only need to help one person at a time."

As if the ceremonies weren't powerful enough for me, my heart exploded that night.  I have never forgotten Molly or her lesson.  And I often pray to a little boy that I never met.

I don't tell this story for praise to anything that I did.  I simply gave away a small pin.  But it had such a profound affect.  Since then, when I produce an event, I am very conscious of each individual.  If it's the CEO or the security guard, every person has a job and a purpose.  It is my duty to help and support all of them.  I do it for Molly and for Zachary.

We never know when we might touch someone.  It could be a simple smile or kind gesture.  But it could change a life.

Does the flap of a butterfly's wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas?