Why Do I Care?

Last year, with my home ward, I went on a Pioneer Trek with the youth. I asked my father what he had learned the most on the trek and he said one thing: "Sarah, I learned how much you truly care about these people."

His remark suprised me. I did not think I cared that much. I don't talk to any of them any more, and needless to say, I have not done so since. But he said, I cared. But I guess I do care. I cared when I gave up my coat to Brittany when it was cold on those Wyoming plains, I cared when I wrapped bandages, cleaned bruises and tied shoes all while pusing those wretched handcarts across the wyoming plains. I guess, I just did not realise I cared. You see, I did this all automatically, without even a thought. So much that I had to me reminded. Its like I did all these things on some other plane of conciousness that I was not aware of or had any control over.

But it continues, you see.

I still care in this manner. The countless service hours, the time, money, energy spent on my friends, family, and... complete strangers still happens in this matter. I do it without a second thought, without even realising.

Yet it scares me.

It scares me that I do this to prove to them that I am not like them. That I am somehow better than the haters, players, and the manipulators. I want to be more than just me. I want to do more, to love more, to understand more -- to BE more.

By biggest fear is that I will never BE enough.