Many people dedicate their lives to careers that save lives. They are first responders and life-flight pilots; nurses, doctors, and surgeons; chemists and philanthropists; police officers and soldiers . . . and the list goes on. We rely on them to heal us, answer the calls we make to 911, protect us from violence, and fight our wars. They are the true heroes.
Sometimes, though, heroes come from more “ordinary” walks of life. After hearing the story of Jamie Bradfield, the owner of a construction company, I couldn’t help but think of him as one of those extraordinary “ordinary” heroes—a hero who found the path to a lifelong blessing.
It was in the fall of 2012 that Jamie first connected with Thomas Jones. Thomas’s family had been members of the same church Jamie’s family attended for two years, but up until then Jamie had met them only in passing. One Sunday morning before delivering his sermon, the pastor at First United Methodist Church in LaGrange, Georgia, informed the congregation that ten-year-old Thomas needed a new kidney. The family was looking for people with Type O blood to get tested as a possible match to save this boy, born with a genetic kidney disease. With a new organ, he could say good-bye to ten-hour daily dialysis treatments and actually have a childhood—and a future.
Initially, Jamie (who has O-positive blood) didn’t respond, but over the course of the next month, he kept reading the notices in the church bulletins and newsletters calling for willing applicants. He thought: What the heck? What are the odds?
So Jamie had his blood drawn, and a couple weeks later he learned he was a match. With another applicant ahead of him in line, he figured he had missed the boat, so he went back to his life. A month went by. Then Jamie got a call from a nurse at the hospital, explaining that after the second round of testing, the first applicant wasn’t an option anymore. She asked if he would still be willing to proceed. In that moment, his decision became real and time stood still.
Jamie’s mind flashed back to eleven years earlier when he and his wife, Claire, were doing anything and everything they could to become parents for the second time.
After being told for most of her adult life that Claire would be physically incapable of having children, they had hearts full of hope that God would bless them with another miracle, just as He had their daughter, Sara Kate, who was conceived the old-fashioned way only ten months into their marriage. Jamie and Claire then continued to try for seven long years to get the news that they were once again pregnant. “We did in-vitro fertilization and a host of other methods to get pregnant, and all we got was financially strapped,” he said. Finally, they accepted that they were a one-child family, and moved on. As is often the case, once they had given up, Claire found out she was pregnant. However, when they went in for the first ultrasound at ten weeks, the obstetrician could find only “clutter.” He speculated that she had miscarried and recommended scheduling a D & C, a procedure that would clean out her uterus. But when pressed, the doctor conceded he wasn’t 100 percent certain that the baby wasn’t still alive. Without certainty, Jamie and Claire were having a difficult time believing that it was God’s plan that they lose this precious gift. Recognizing their pain, the doctor suggested that they wait another week and then come in for another ultrasound. They agreed.
After five days, though, Jamie’s anxious wife couldn’t stand the suspense any longer and they called their doctor. Making time for them to come in that day, Claire’s obstetrician arranged to do the ultrasound and proactively scheduled a visit to the operating room for the D & C right after that—just in case.
When Jamie and Claire got to the office, the atmosphere was funereal, with nurses crying and the doctor somber. But the mood instantly changed from sadness to joy when the ultrasound immediately showed a strong heartbeat!
Now, flash forward to the moment that time stood still. Jamie didn’t know the little boy who needed a kidney that well, but he did know he was the same age as Sam, the child Jamie and Claire believe God miraculously gave back to them ten years earlier. That’s all it took. On January 3, 2013, Jamie gave one of his kidneys to that little boy.
In a Christmas letter Jamie sent out to his friends and family shortly before the surgery, he wrote:
“Know that all you have is a gift from God and give thanks for those gifts. If you have the opportunity to do good for someone else, do it! It may not be the gift of an organ, but I am sure there will be other opportunities. The gifts you will receive in return will be immeasurable.”
For ten years, Jamie and Thomas were virtual strangers. They traveled in similar community circles, but with a thirty-eight-year age difference, they had no natural reason to connect. A horrible disease, a caring church, a healthy “spare” kidney, a matching blood type, and a heart full of generosity bound them so much that they now consider each other friends.
Lifelong friends.
And even after Jamie endured painful medical procedures that left permanent scars, the positives for him far surpassed the negatives: he was able to give the gift of quality of life to a boy who was finally able to experience a world beyond the hospital walls. It was a path Jamie hadn’t considered until that fateful day at church, but one he is forevermore grateful to have been a part of.
PROFESSIONAL SACRIFICE AND PERSONAL REWARD
In the blended and mostly harmonious family known as The Bachelor franchise, we bond over shared experiences and the bizarre world we live in where millions of strangers tune in weekly to watch our unconventional love stories unfold. Not only did I find my true love and my destiny through the show, but I’ve been lucky enough to add household names like Chris Harrison, Jillian Harris, Andrew Firestone, Emily Maynard, Ashley Hebert, and Sean Lowe to my list of friends. Some of my strongest connections, though, are with people from behind the scenes. They are the producers, director, set designers, stylists, camera operators, and even sound technicians whose job is to create a show that people will want to watch. Sometimes their agendas don’t align with the “talent,” but I respect that they have a job to do, and at the very least, many of them are good (very good, in fact) at comedic relief.
Karri-Leigh Mastrangelo is one of those people. She didn’t come on board Mike Fleiss’s production team until I was an old married broad, but we met when she was expecting a baby and helping prepare us to show off our own baby on an After the Final Rose special—and we instantly clicked. Through the years, we’ve stayed in touch—mostly when it involved appearances I made with the franchise, but now that she has moved on to produce other shows, we bond over how entertaining it is to be a parent and encourage each other with the different projects we find on our plates.
Contemplating a foray into the world of blogging, Karri-Leigh (KL to me) reached out to me for advice. I had only a tiny amount of experience with this relatively new medium, but productive-mom-to-productive-mom, I was happy to offer my insights. Without knowing what she would title it or what she would write about, I knew without a doubt that she would offer the blogosphere a fresh and witty perspective on life, Hollywood, and parenthood, and I was right. For two years now, she has written tons of posts and has attracted a huge number of readers.
One of those blog posts caught my eye. I was hard at work on this book and I had a big problem: writer’s block. Taking a break from writing, I sat down to go through my e-mail, and Karri-Leigh’s latest post on her Dirty Laundry & Dirty Diapers website popped up. Not only did this break give me some energy, but it also offered a perfect illustration of the gratitude we feel from the surprises hidden in our professional journey. Thankfully, KL happily agreed to let me reprint the post here, while graciously adding a few more tidbits just for your reading pleasure. (Thanks, KL, and thank you to Diane Sawyer for pointing her in my direction.)
I’m often asked how I got into television. The truth is that I grew up wanting to be a child psychologist. In college, I started out studying elementary education for moderate special needs, but I knew after my very first rotation as a student teacher in the second grade of an affluent Mas
sachusetts town that the field wasn’t for me. The job saddened me. One beautiful girl, barely seven years old, suffered from liver issues. Her classmate, consistently late to school, wasn’t distracted by cartoons but by his alcoholic mother—and this wasn’t even the special needs room.
The teacher whom I was supporting told me that in her first years of teaching she dreaded Friday afternoons, as she’d miss and worry about her students over the weekend. Unlike the vast majority of professionals, she could hardly wait for Monday morning to arrive. “If you don’t feel that way, this isn’t the job for you,” she said. Clearly, it wasn’t the job for me.
Next on my list of who I wanted to be when I grew up was Diane Sawyer. So I changed my major, made a great demo reel, and wasted an obnoxious amount of money on headshots.
My very first job was at a production company housed in Boston’s ABC affiliate, WCVB. I knew from the moment I stepped into their newsroom that the energy behind the camera, not in front of it, was what I craved. Immediately I pursued producing, with great success, but part of me often wondered if I had made the right decision.
A few years, a cross-country move and a marriage later, my passion brought me to Los Angeles. Making my mark in television wasn’t easy, but eventually the hard work paid off. I was offered the chance to work on a groundbreaking show called Welcome to the Neighborhood for ABC. I was more than willing and ready to take on the challenge, but, still a newlywed, committing to living for the next several months in Austin, Texas, was not an easy decision. Ultimately, I asked for (and received) my husband’s support and set out to verify whether this was truly the best professional path for me. I made the supreme sacrifice. I left my entire life behind and crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t lose it all in the process.
After months of casting and preparation, principal shooting began. Several “diverse” but upstanding families would compete to win a home in a very white, Christian, and Republican neighborhood—a home they otherwise would never be able to afford, in a place where they may not have been welcome. Time flew by and in no time at all we were shooting our first elimination with a family of professional tattoo artists.
Shuffled off into their exit interviews, they were feeling unwanted and dejected. I held the hand of their beautiful six-year-old daughter—ready to get her perspective on film.
She sat on the curb while I sat on the pavement, and I asked her why she thought her family was the first to be sent home. She had yet to enter the first grade, but spoke more eloquently than most high school graduates. We cried together as she expressed how hard it is to have people make assumptions about her parents based solely upon their looks. I knew in that moment that I was doing what I was meant to do. I was having my producer cake and therapeutically eating it too.
Unfortunately, the world didn’t get to see that interview—or any of the incredible stories that proceeded to unfold, for that matter. Hours before our premiere, the National Fair Housing Alliance threatened to sue ABC on the grounds that the show violated anti-discrimination housing laws. Sadly, it was shelved.
My heart truly broke. Professionally, I cried because an incredible social experiment, in which everyday people opened up their homes, hearts, and minds in an effort to break down prejudices way too common in this country, would have a fraction of the outreach it deserved. Selfishly, I cried because the many personal struggles I had endured for the project had seemingly been for naught. Or had they?
The gay couple who won the Austin home in the end still got to share it with their adopted son. They have since married, and adopted once more. I still hear from the previously narrow-minded families who lived in the neighborhood, who reflect upon the experience as mind-opening and transformative. As for the innocent six-year-old, we’ve long lost touch, but I think of her often. Years after that interview, its camera operator referred me for a job that would again be a life-changing experience—it took me to The Bachelor, which, ultimately, brought me to cherished friendships and memories, and a blog for you.
Difficult as it may be, often we must wait until an event has long passed before we can fully understand or even appreciate its purpose. Thankfully, it can be well worth the wait.
True that, Karri-Leigh. True that.
If you aren’t able to find any meaning or blessing or shiny silver lining in the wounds of a tragedy, and it’s hard to contemplate moving forward, start by thinking of the people who love you and need you. Then, little by little turn to the simple things. Get out of bed, brush your teeth, get dressed. Attempt to make progress each day, opening your door, then stepping outside, maybe taking a short walk or getting in your car for a drive. Over time, those steps you take toward actively participating in life will hopefully give you back your life—a life that may not have all the answers, but one filled with blessings big and small.
We all may not have the willpower or the courage to donate an organ while still living, let alone at the time of our death, but if you can handle a little pinprick and some pressure for a few minutes, donating blood or bone marrow can be just as powerful. Just ask James Harrison, aka the “man with the golden arm.” An Australian who needed thirteen liters of blood during a major chest surgery he survived when he was thirteen years old, Harrison vowed to start donating blood when he turned eighteen as a way to give back. Shortly after his initial donation, they determined that his blood contained the Rhesus disease antibody, and it has since been used to save more than 2.4 million babies, including his own daughter. I’d say that’s pretty damn powerful. To find out more about how you can help someone through donating blood, visit RedCrossBlood.org, or if you are interested in swabbing your cheek to find out if you could be a bone marrow match, visit my friends at LoveHopeStrength.org and click “Get On the List.” You are more powerful than you think.
Do you constantly fret about disasters—either natural or man-made? Think back over your life to the moment that fear began. Was it a near-miss or was it a direct impact? Either way, remember that fear is what you make of it. No matter how disastrous events in your past have been, you have the power to choose your reaction to those events in the present and pave the way toward a fearless future.
Sit back and think about the three most difficult events of your life. Now think about the domino effects that they caused, focusing on even the faintest glimmers of light that were generated as a result, and write them down. Maybe the loss of a loved one caused you to empathize with someone struggling with the same issue; maybe you made a donation to a charitable organization that helped others in a similar boat; or maybe an injury led you down a new road that you would’ve missed if not for your painful circumstance. Don’t let the cloud of despair overwhelm you; instead look (very closely) for the sun and the stars undeniably shining behind it. Light exists in the darkness—we just need to adjust our eyes to see it.
“Thank You” Is a Verb
Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.
—WILLIAM ARTHUR WARD
CHAPTER TEN
IF YOU’VE REACHED THIS PART IN THE BOOK, I HOPE YOU have it ingrained in your mind that gratitude and happiness go hand-in-hand. It improves your outlook and well-being and, as the Huffington Post recently reported, it can also help you sleep better, strengthen your relationships, increase life satisfaction, boost immunity, and decrease stress.
But feeling grateful is not quite enough—you’ve got to put it out there into the universe and let the people you appreciate hear it. There’s no doubt the recipient of your thanks will feel great, but many studies show that when you share your gratitude you also share in the joy. So, if you are ready to start sharing, check out some of my favorite ways to say thank you below.
Write a Note
There’s something about a handwritten note that makes people feel special. Even though it takes more time than a quick text, a phone call, or an e-mail covered in smiley faces (and if you have been a recipient of my e-mails, you know I am a repeat offender), a
personally penned message sent through the good ol’ post office is worth the extra effort.
When someone does a kindness for me or for my family, I never worry that a written note of thanks is wrong. It may need to be accompanied by a thoughtful gift or reciprocated action, but the heartwarming feeling of opening a letter sent in the mail isn’t something that gets lost on many people.
With my crazy schedule, it may take quite a bit of time for thank-you notes to reach the top of my priority list, so I’ve devised a system to ensure they get done. Any time someone does something caring or sends something special for the kids, Ryan, or me, I immediately place a blank note card and the person’s address into my thank-you folder. Yes, I have a thank-you folder. Since my memory is less than stellar, my thank-you-note folder ensures that I won’t forget any important kindnesses that our family has been blessed to receive (at least in theory). It may be months before I write the note, but I know I’ll get there eventually, and, hopefully, when I do, the recipient will realize the sincerity of my thanks.
According to Emily Post, “Handwritten notes are warmer and more personal than a phone call or email, and only second best to thanking someone in person.” EmilyPost.com says that if you’ve gotten a gift for your wedding or shower, birthday, graduation, promotion, or any other reason, send a note. Likewise, a note or gift because someone thought of you when you were ill or in mourning warrants a handwritten note of thanks.
If people take time out of their busy lives to let you know they care, you can do the same, can’t you?
Of course, as someone who easily forgets what day it is unless I’m looking at a calendar, I know it can be difficult to remember and even harder to find the time to sit down undisturbed and write a thoughtful expression of gratitude. That’s why I bring my handy-dandy folder with me on planes (at least those that happen to be free of two mini Sutters), on road trips, to doctor appointments and visits to the hair salon, and any time I know I am going to be, or can be, sitting in one place for at least a few minutes without having to feed a hungry mouth or escort a tiny human to the bathroom. It’s all about time management and taking advantage of what precious time I have to cross things off the list.
Happily Ever After: The Life-Changing Power of a Grateful Heart Page 17