Not so long ago I was told a story that really intrigued me.   

In 1940, at the age of twelve, a young lad from India was put on a boat by his father and sent to New Zealand to find a better life.  A huge sacrifice for a man who simply wanted to give his son the chance at a better future.  A huge upheaval in the life of that twelve year old, leaving his family and home, and heading towards the unknown.  He was accompanied by two friends, but they were also only twelve years of age.  The voyage took somewhere between two and three months, arriving first in Perth, then Sydney and finally in Auckland, New Zealand.  This young lad suddenly found himself completely immersed in a new family, a new language and a new culture.  He attended school, whilst also working at a market garden in Pukekohe, South Auckland.  

He worked, he learned, he grew.

At the age of nineteen a marriage was arranged for him in India.  He travelled back to his homeland to meet and marry his wife.  His new wife remained in India with his parents, while he returned to New Zealand to carry on earning money.  This young lady was not treated kindly by her in-laws, neither emotionally nor physically.  Finally, after five years, her husband managed to pay for her voyage to join him in New Zealand.  And so their new family life began.

They worked – very hard. They learned. They thrived.

Happily, he and his wife went on to have five daughters.  Although money was tight, he was able to provide for his family, and even treated his wife to the occasional gift of gold jewellery, “her particular passion”.  

Sadly, this tremendously resilient and hardworking gentleman passed away at the age of only forty-eight years, after suffering his second heart attack.  A life cut short?  In one sense yes, definitely.  But this same man who, at such a young age, had undergone a tremendous upheaval from all he knew and loved, went on to lead a very full and fruitful life.  Not only did he manage to survive amidst a totally new language and culture, he went on to eventually own his own house and shop. He also managed trips back to family in India as well as visits to friends in Fiji.  Upon his death, he left his wife mortgage free and with life insurance. 

And by the way, those two young friends, the ones who were also on that boat from India, they both went on to become doctors.

Risks taken, sacrifices made, resilience developed – big time.

I cannot begin to imagine how a twelve year old child today would cope with a three month long journey by ship to a foreign country, with no significant family member or adult companion assigned to care for them.  And similarly I cannot think how they would have then coped with all that followed for the young star of this story.  Certainly, my own sheltered childhood was an absolute breeze in comparison.

I have been thinking a lot about risks and resilience lately.  Also about the importance of being proactive.

Putting your child on a boat and sending him off in the hopes of a better life, well that’s pretty high up there on the proactive scale.  Was it worth it?  It would certainly seem so.  And the resilience displayed in that story blows my mind.

But that was a different time.  

Still, resilience is always needed in order to step out of our ordinary and follow our dreams.  Proactive steps need to be taken for change to occur.

Taking risks means opening ourselves up to the possibility of hardships and failure.  But also the chance of wonderful things.  Life is for the living.