Lifesavers for Latasha

I often think about history and the great leaders scattered throughout. There are so many known and unknown leaders who have produced profound speeches of inspiration and power, but one of my all-time favorite speeches was Theodore Roosevelt’s The Man in the Arean speech, which he gave at the Sorbonne Paris, France, on April 23, 1910.

I reference the speech a lot when I give mentoring or leadership classes. Just thinking about being there in person and hearing his voice deliver it gives me the shivers. Does anyone have a time machine?

If you’ve never read or heard it, look it up, But to get to my point, here is the most famous part:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat,” by Theodore Roosevelt

My point is that Latasha had the courage to enter the arena and do what most couldn’t or wouldn’t. We discussed the negative possibilities numerous times with the doctors and, more importantly, between us. We talked about quality over quantity. We discussed what it could be like if things went wrong, what it could be like if she didn’t get the transplant, and everything in between. They were very serious, tear-inducing conversations and all too often devastating for me to face.

But Tasha boldly entered the arena, and as I have watched her these past two weeks, her face and body are bloodied, bruised, and weakened. She has dusted herself off and rose up to fight. She’s never backed away from the fight. She’s a fierce warrior, and for that, she owns the arena.

We have many battles to go, but I am immensely proud and joyous to be able to call her my love, my wife, and my friend.

The Arena is hers!