Peace

Remember my post about meditation? I've learned that Hindu teachings typically end with the words Om shanti shanti shanti as an invocation of peace, and the mantra is also used to conclude some Buddhist devotional ceremonies. It was used yesterday at the conclusion of a memorial service for the mother of one of A&J's classmates. Her name was Shanthi, pronounced the same as "Shanti," and appropriately so.


I need not point out to you how completely unfair it is that for the second time in almost exactly two years, this  tiny class has a child facing the prospect of growing up without their mother. Gail and Shanthi both fought cancer with courage and fortitude beyond anything I can imagine mustering.  I'd like to share with you Shanthi's story, if only because I heard it for the first time yesterday. 


As a young girl in her native India, Shanthi worked with and met Mother Theresa. She must have made quite an impression on Shanthi, because as I learned yesterday, her life became service personified - whether in her work as an MD/PhD focussed on gastroenterology (a subject of obvious interest to me) or in her relationships  with friends and colleagues, for whom she would drop everything and fly across the globe whenever she felt she could help them. I sat in awe as colleagues, patients, and friends spoke for two hours about this woman's incredible attitude - she never stopped caring for and about others even in the past 5 years as her body was succumbing to a far more devastating form of cancer than mine. She never had time for a moment of self-pity and shied away from the limelight as she was being awarded for her medical research in the GI field. Earlier this year, after being honored as the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation's Physician of the Year, she finished editing the last chapter of a medical text book she'd always wanted to write, gave her last lecture at Emory Med School while on oxygen, then checked herself in to the hospital for what she knew would be her final days. She was sending e-mails to people on her Blackberry from the ICU, just checking in to see how THEY are doing. This was her way, we heard, to turn a question or concern from others into her own inquiry about the other person's well being. And by all accounts, she never looked stressed, never acted overwhelmed by the number of balls she was constantly juggling. It was as if she found her peace in the frenetic pace at which she was working to help others. Her peace, Shanthi's Shanti.  


Many of us who were from the kids' school didn't know Shanthi that well. Her husband Suresh was more often the parent who came to events with their son Kharthik. We all left the service wishing we had known her, had seen more of what we heard about from those fortunate enough to have known her well. And, at least in our house, a bit embarrassed at the number of times we've felt overwhelmed by our version of "busy lives" or the number of times we've claimed we've needed a night off from work/kids/projects/etc. We can't all be like her, but I wouldn't mind be a little more like her when it comes to embracing all that life has to offer and to giving all that one can give.


I feel like I should conclude with some scripture, some ancient Hindu text that talks about souls and heaven. But I won't. 


Peace, to Shanthi's family, her colleagues, and her friends. Peace.