Alas, I have joined the infamous Failed Resolutions club – again. Yet I am sure I’m in good company. Haven’t all of us received that particular membership card in some form? Good thing we can keep trying.

I watched a Day-In-The-Life reel of a musician recently. He took the audience along, traveling to his next tour stop. Through that day, I realized just how many people it must take to allow him to do what he does. So many behind the scenes. He does not do it alone.

I thought more about that during the day. Who in my life has been behind the scenes, allowing me to do what I do?

I was reminded of a powerful movie scene. We enjoyed “Soul on Fire” over the Holiday season. It is based on the life of John O’Leary. He was severely burned at 9 years old and given a 1% chance of living. He miraculously recovered and became a successful business owner and motivational speaker despite his challenges.

The scene that made a lasting impact on me was right before he was released from the hospital. Many were gathered around his bed, celebrating his incredible recovery with his family. So many had played a part. One of the doctor’s spoke up and, as I remember, talked about the miracle they all had a part in. Then he said, one person truly saved his life and made all the difference. There is an artful pause to allow you to think who you would choose.

Was it the nurse who encouraged him to stretch through scar tissue and painfully work damaged limbs? Was it family members who prayed and spent countless hours with him, offering support as best they could. Was it the skilled doctors who knew the right procedures needed?

The doctor’s hand claps onto the shoulder and startles the janitor by his side, indicating he was the one. He explains that because of his faithful and quiet work to ensure the room was sterile, John was protected from the chance of infection in his extremely vulnerable state and granted the time he needed to recover.

Now in truth, that small army all played a vital part in the young man’s recovery. Yet there is such a beautiful truth to what the doctor pointed out. If that vital and often unheralded work of keeping the room clean would have been neglected, all the expertise and encouragement and love would not have mattered at all. John would have died.

It makes me want to see others better. I want to recognize the importance of the seemingly small but mighty impacts in my own life. Most given without fanfare. I pray for better sight in that regard. I also want to be more willing to do those small, perhaps less-noticed things to help others along their way. I want to be a quiet hero.