Next moment I had moved onto a flattish exposed area of snow with nothing but space in every 
direction. -Sir Edmund Hillary’s description of reaching the top of Mt. Everest on May 29, 1953
The objective of climbing Mt. Everest could not have been be more clear and precise. When Hillary and his climbing partner, Tenzing Norgay (in photo at left taken by Hillary) achieved their goal, they knew it. In mountain climbing, victory is measured, marked and photographed.
The goals of Love are often ill-defined and elusive. When we live Love, how do we know if we have actually achieved anything specific? …
The Good Samaritan leans to help the wounded man. He knows he has done
what he could. But there is no celebration of success, no knighting by
the queen, and no certainty that the summit of Love has truly been
climbed.
So much of caregiving is like this. A nurse labors day after day to save a patient’s life. One day, she 
comes to work and finds the patient has died. Were her efforts in vain? Similarly, another nurse may engage in the same labor and one day arrive at work to find that the patient has recovered and been discharged. She never sees or hears again from the person whose life she has helped to save.
Because specific goals can be energizing, Love, as a goal, can be frustrating.
Love must be its own reward. When Love commits to help another, there is no expectation of reward. Yet one day we may find ourselves feeling the exhilaration Hillary felt as he stood atop the world. We may feel we are in a place so high that there is "nothing but space in every direction."
In your life as a caregiver, have you ever experienced moments of deep and unqualified satisfaction that arose from your knowledge that you truly lived Love?
-Erie Chapman
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