Passion for Family

What are you willing to die for? What are you willing to live for? Though these questions are seemingly opposite, the answers should be exactly the same: your passion. In life, our passions serve to motivate us. They push us beyond our expected limits as we seek to fill our lives with the joy and satisfaction they bring. Simultaneously, if we are truly passionate about something, then we are always willing to sacrifice for it, stripping ourselves of all that we posses—even life—for its sake.

For me, there are but a few things in life that I am this passionate about. Actually, most of these things are not even things, but people. Particularly, there is one group of people, about 450 miles north of where I currently sit, that I am most passionate about—my family. My family is the driving force behind me, pushing me past the limits I set for myself. Without question, they are my incentive to live; without question, I would surrender that life for them.

In comparison with most families of modern society, my family is…well, crazy. We, however, do not live according to the standards of modern society and thus prefer the term “uniquely blessed.” For example, last year my family came to be known as the “Kennedys of Beyer High School.” This nickname was bestowed upon us when one of my teachers observed that seven of the eight people living in our house went to Beyer High School on a daily basis. While the world might have viewed our circumstance as crazy, maybe even maddening, we saw it as a unique blessing from God to be perpetually surrounded by those we love most.

However, it is not merely enough to be continually surrounded by those you love to be passionate about them. While passion for something or someone may come about with prolonged periods of time, it does not come as the result of it. Rather, passion is the result of the pleasure we feel in selflessly dedicating ourselves to something or someone. In my family, there is never a lack of opportunities to show our dedication to one another. For instance, since all of us were involved in performing arts, it is a given fact that if one of us has a concert or show than everyone will be present in the audience showing their unwavering support.

Although it might sound easy enough to do, it was not always. I vividly remember a weekend this past November when my dad and I were visiting a college that I was heavily considering. It was the only weekend that we both had the time to take off and make the long 8 hour drive south from our home in Modesto, CA to San Diego, CA. The weekend also happened to be the Western Band Association Championships in Fresno, CA, in which my youngest brother and sister were to march. In planning our trip to San Diego, my dad and I had to find a way to be back in Fresno (approximately 6 hours north of San Diego) by Saturday evening. We left Modesto on Thursday evening and drove most of the way to San Diego. We finished the drive Friday morning and spent a wonderful day at John Paul the Great Catholic University. The university was kind enough to let us stay the night in the apartments, but first thing the next morning, my dad and I were on the road up to Fresno. After ten hours in the car (a fire alongside the freeway created traffic), my dad and I walked into the stands and cheered with all the energy we had left as my brother and sister competed. After watching them march (and win) we drove another two hours until we were finally home.

It would have been much easier to stay in San Diego and sleep in then get up and start driving. It would have been very simple to admit defeat in traffic, pull off of the freeway and find a place for the night. It would have been more comfortable to drive right past Fresno and keep going until we arrived home. Had my father and I chosen any one of these options, my siblings would have been very understanding and accepting. Had my father and I chosen any of these options, however, we would not have shown the passion we have for our family.

For me, passion was enduring that 10 hour car trip with a smile on my face, excitedly anticipating sitting on those frozen steel bleachers in the icy night air, knowing that it would make all the difference to my siblings that I was there for them. Without hesitation, I would do it all over again just to catch a mere glimpse of the joy that was in their eyes when they were announced as champions. Though it was trying and difficult, I was motivated and driven on by my passion for them. In my passion for them, the “death” required in sacrifice was overcome by the joy I recieved in living for them.