Hello, my friends and welcome to the Live Inspired podcast Monday morning moments, a snow day edition

with John O'Leary.

I'm going to begin this one with a question.

You're going to hear it periodically throughout this episode, so get ready for it.

Who would do that?

Who would do that?

This was the question my son asked last weekend.

He wanted to know why I was planning to wake up early the following day, drive six hours to Cincinnati, surprise a friend for his birthday, and then turn around to drive home after just 30 minutes since I had to get back for a previously scheduled commitment short visit.

To Patrick, it seemed like nicely ridding card or a gift mailed in advance would have been a sufficient

gesture, but I shared with my son a few reasons why this person mattered enough to be there

for him in person.

The Saturday I was burned was January 17, 1987. An ambulance raced me away from our burning house

and immediately, in unimaginable sense of panic, consumed me. Arriving at the emergency room at

Mercy Hospital, the first person to treat this terribly burned little boy greeted me by name,

had a confident warmth in his eyes, and filled a scared

little kid with some hope. Despite it being early on a Saturday morning, it's a weekend,

he had left his family that morning to begin life-saving work on his critically burned patient.

Who would do that? The name was Dr. Vachiavajan.

Early every morning, seven days a week throughout my recovery, one individual made rounds to his patients' rooms. Each visit he took time to not only connect with us patients, but also to remind the professionals

he rounded with that they weren't just doing a task. They were shouldering the sacred role

of keeping patients alive. That was their job. He wanted each individual, each person to know

that they mattered and that they were valued.

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