The Trophies are Worthless

Courtesy of Dear World - Brain Tattoo experience

Nine years ago, I was sitting with my dad in his home office, just the two of us. It was an impressive space, not so much by size, but by accessories. There was a shelf about eight feet high on the walls lining the perimeter of the room. On the shelf were trophies, NFL "game-ball" footballs from significant victories, and other sports paraphernalia.

Under the shelves, mounted to the walls were photos of celebrities, team photos, certificates of achievement and recognition, framed newspaper clippings from the glory days, all the hallmarks of fame and fortune.

On Dad's large mahogany desk sat his laptop, with a yellow legal pad next to it. That's where I had spent the last couple days, mining for research trials for brain cancer. Because Mom was lying in the adjacent room, depending on us to find a way out of her looming prognosis.

The yellow pad of paper was scribbled several pages deep--each trial listed by location, phone number, and requirements. But each entry had been scratched out in damning black ink.

She didn't qualify for any of them.

Her situation worsening, we both knew we had to face our deepest fear. We'd been fighting this battle with her for just over a year and she'd performed true to her nature--exuding elegance and impermeable toughness. But we were beginning to consider there may be a different plan for her life. We'd been too engaged in the fight to notice it before.

Leaning on each other we had a quick conversation about the finality of our options. Knowing there was nowhere else to turn, we agreed to kneel in prayer together, with nothing but broken hearts and waning hope.

I vividly remember scanning the room as we knelt down. Taking in all the evidence of celebrity, I saw it for what it was--debris. Worthless glitter, mocking us with its uselessness.

From our book, Danny White: Spotlights & Shadows:

"Dad was without words. It was up to me to offer a prayer. I don’t remember anything I said or anything we may have heard, but I’ll never forget sitting with Dad in that office, tears streaming down both our cheeks as we prayed, hand in hand, for direction. Grief absolutely consumed us. But there was also a peace that can only come from total surrender. The frantic feeling dispersed and a calmness filled the room. We were done pushing. It was time to hand her over to God."

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At eighteen years old, I won the state title for Arizona’s Junior Miss. I was a little unique as a teenager in that my very best friend was my mom. She has reminded me many times that the evening I won that title, I didn't go out partying with friends. I came right home with my family, read my scriptures and went to bed.

I'll admit it, I don't party well. But also, I strive to see value with eyes void of worldly influence. It has the potential for a more lasting reward.

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Last month I witnessed new celebrities emerging at a conference for professional speakers and influencers. Five individuals were inducted to the National Speakers Association Hall of Fame. Sitting in Scottsdale, as I watched the celebrations, I emotionally separated myself from that moment of fanfare. From my out-of-body perspective, I saw it clearly as a moment of temporary felicity. Hard work and opportunities had paid off. But it was just a moment. At the end of the day, these winners were made of all the same stuff we were. And ultimately at the end of the evening would brush their teeth and go to bed.

Truth is, there are no celebrities. There's no real hierarchy when it comes to humanity. Yet we spend most of our lives pursuing such. While spotlights, shadows, and influences may vastly affect how our lives play out, we are all made of the same stuff. We're seeds in need of nurturing. Recognition doesn't cut it.

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Less than a week after that day in Dad's office, my best friend left me forever.

But not really.

What connects us as humans can be difficult to nail down when we're looking at worldly definitions splashed on hastily hoisted banners. But let's don't overcomplicate it. We all breathe by the same oxygen. We all need the same things to thrive on this planet. We are all awesome individuals, capable of making a profound impact for good. And impact is eternal.

When *Dear World asked me to think of a significant emotional experience that shaped who I am, this is what came to mind. A time of desperation, clarity, and profound connection.

A time when I realized that popularity and prestige are worth nil when life and love are on the line.

When I learned that fame isn't as important as family and faith.

When I learned the truth about trophies.