First off, I’d just like to say thank you for all the support and encouragement I have received in launching this blog, by way of your comments and emails. Your love for my mom and the rest of our family is very meaningful, to me and to all of us.

I have thought very deliberately about the first “lesson” I’d like to share here, and that lesson is on compassion. This is a significant topic for me a couple reasons. Over the past few months, I have spent a lot of time reflecting about my mom, and I have been deeply moved in realizing and recognizing the depths of her compassion. In my opinion, this compassion is one of her most impactful traits — if not the most impactful — hence my desire to share it with you first and foremost. With what my family and I are going through, I have also realized how deep our need is for receiving compassion. And it makes me value all the more my mom’s beautiful ability to embody this trait.

My definition of compassion is centered on the decision to try to understand what another person is going through, and then to act on it — that is, to meet him (her) on his (her) emotional level. It starts with making a conscious effort to identify what a person is experiencing at a given time, and then to consider the impact of this experience. It then means doing something about it — expressing understanding to the other person, trying to gain more understanding by asking questions, having an open-hearted discussion, etc. — ultimately, showing that one cares.

In brainstorming on this topic, I came up with a simple analogy that I think can further illuminate this concept. If you would, imagine you are on a boat, sailing the waters and soaking in the sunshine. Although the waters are calm around you and the sky is a clear blue, this is not the case everywhere. Into the distance, you see dark clouds and a storm rapidly brewing, causing rocky, dangerous waters; it’s a different scene altogether. You see a sailboat stuck in these waters, and the sailor on board is clearly struggling as he tries to maneuver the boat out of the storm to no avail. What you choose to do next can go one of a few ways:

• You continue with your relaxing sail; you’re having a grand time and are uninterested in being caught up in someone else’s problems. Someone else will help the sailor, you might think, or he’ll figure it out himself, or perhaps the storm will pass and he’ll be fine. At the end of the day, it’s just not your problem.

• Or, you realize he could use your help, but you’re also hesitant because helping him is not especially convenient for you. You decide to sail out towards him, but as you approach the treacherous waters, your boat gets a bit shaky, and the wind almost knocks you over. I tried, you think, but this is too much. You sail back towards a safe place.

• You may go further: You approach the treacherous waters, your boat gets shaky, the wind almost knocks you over, you’re starting to get soaked, but you soldier on. The sailor and his boat are close now and you can see they’re both in bad shape. The body of the boat has been cracked, and the vessel is quickly sinking. Within moments, the boat goes under and the sailor is in the water. You have a life raft on board, so you throw it in his direction. Although you see him struggling to swim to the raft, if you get any closer there’s a good chance your boat could capsize and put your safety in jeopardy. I tried my best, you think. I desperately hope he gets to the raft. But there’s nothing else I can do now — it’s out of my hands.

• And then the last option: You get to the same place as above, except your final conclusion is different — there is something more you can do. In knowing that the sailor could drown, you decide: I’m going in after him. I will do whatever is in my power to help this man. Sure, you anticipate that the water is going to be freezing; you know it’s going to sting your body. You know the vicious waves are going to try to pull you down. You have no idea how this is going to pan out, but you’re going to do all that you can to help this sailor. You might be terrified, but you don’t let the fear stop you. So you jump into the water.

These four scenarios help to explain my view on the spectrum that is compassion. The first option simply represents an absence of compassion. Being compassionate is not always easy or convenient, so sometimes we choose not to show any compassion at all. The second option represents a level of compassion that translates to limited effect. We might feel sorry about a situation and recognize that a person needs help, but when we try to help and it gets uncomfortable for us, we stop. The third option represents a strong effort to show compassion. We might try really hard to be compassionate; we go well out of our way and put ourselves in a challenging situation, but ultimately we feel our job is finished before the other person is back to a safe space.

As for the fourth option, this represents a level of compassion that I think few in this world practice, and that is a truly selfless compassion that transcends normal human nature. This is the compassion my mom developed.

My mom’s ability to care deeply about the people close to her, and also those whom she didn’t know, is so special. Over the last couple years especially, I was moved by her decision to fully invest in other people’s experiences, be them trivial or serious. The thing is, no one’s difficulties really compared to what she was facing in her illness, and yet she still cared so deeply, as if they were just as important, if not more. She made a choice to give value to each person’s problems, recognizing that those problems felt important to that person — and therefore those problems became important to her. And it wasn’t just people’s problems that she cared about; it was everything that they experienced, both good and bad. She shared joy with them during the good times, and pain with them during the bad.

Specifically, I value so much the compassion my mom continued to show me around my stomach, which for years has given me issues. These issues cause discomfort, but they are far from grave and do not remotely compare to the difficulties that my mom experienced. And yet my mom asked me how my tummy was every day, and she prayed with me about it every day — as if it were her issue, and the only issue she was dealing with.

Other people have shared with me similar experiences about my mom, and these experiences go beyond even her friends and family. My mom’s compassion for all people was evident in her decision to be actively involved in a battered women’s shelter, or to train to become a foster child advocate, among so much else. While many others desire to make money in their life or seek out recognition, her dream was to open an orphanage in India. It is still hard for me to fathom a dream so selfless.

What I have realized is that her compassion stems from a choice, a choice that all of us can make, but one that few decide to do. Some may disagree with me, arguing that some people have innate compassion and others don’t. I do believe that upbringing and environment have a key impact; I’ve been deeply influenced by my mom and her actions, so it would be totally untrue to say that that’s had no or little effect. But it doesn’t stop there. I think much of it has to do with a choice, a choice to walk with others in their journeys and to help carry them through their valleys of life.

I also know this is a choice because I’ve seen my dad make it. Despite dealing with this difficult season of life, he goes out of his way to support family and friends, from helping them find jobs to making the effort to connect with friends’ kids who are going through a tough time. I don’t doubt that my mom’s compassion has served as an inspiration to him, and that he too has played a key role in encouraging her compassion over the years.

Finally, this is a choice I am now also trying to make, in having seen and experienced — thanks to my mom’s example — that compassion changes lives. So how can I develop this kind of compassion? I see this as a journey, a journey that my mom has experienced and a journey that I too am now on. It means making the repeated decision to give value to each person’s experiences, even if they may not seem so significant to me. This does not mean falsely accepting that all experiences have the same level of impact. It just means that when I know someone feels affected in a non-superficial way, I should give weight to this and try to understand, just as my mom has always done.

If we so have the desire, this is a choice we can all make. It’s not the easy choice, and it requires a lot of time, effort, and discomfort at times. It means meeting a person where he is emotionally, and to get there we might have to explore unpleasant memories or experiences that help us relate. Once we’ve made the choice, I think it’s easier to start showing compassion to those whom we already care about. Over time, this can give way to developing a heart for those who are not so close to us, even people we’ve never met before.

For as long as I’ve known her, my mom has made the choice to be fiercely compassionate — to jump into the water. As a result, she has changed countless lives, including my own. And my guess is, yours too.