2024 Scholarship Essay Winner

Essay Prompt: What is the most creative way someone has shown kindness to you? How did this act of kindness impact your life? How have you paid it forward?

My name is Nancy Olsen, I grew up the youngest of four children, next up was my only brother, Mark Olsen, one year older. Our parents were medical missionaries to then East Pakistan (1961), now Bangladesh, building a 50-bed hospital in the jungle near the Burma (Myanmar) border. This was home!

Through the many twists and turns in my life, my brother, Mark, was always there for. me to turn to. In childhood, we shared a room, with matching green and yellow plaid chenille bedspreads. We acted as look outs for each other at night, as our parents were against thumb sucking and would spank us severely for engaging, unfortunately, we were rarely successful in protecting each other, we just weren’t fast enough! Mark and I spent most of our days in the jungle, exploring, climbing trees, riding our motorcycle through the village paths and mounds of rice paddies, avoiding snakes, leeches, ticks and other jungle inhabitants, volunteering in the hospital, and doing school work with our mother. As it was a Muslim country, I was not able to play any sports, but I cheered Mark on in all the local soccer (futbol) games as he was a star player, which continued all the way through high school and college.

In 1971, the liberation war broke out, our two older sisters were in enemy country, West Pakistan, in a British boarding school. Our father chose to stay with his hospital when the “Voice of America” radio broadcast warned that all Americans need to evacuate the country immediately to the south, to Burma (US travel was forbidden in Burma). My mother, brother and myself joined other Americans and drove to the border, covered in blankets in the boat crossing the river so as not to arouse any suspicion. We were put in Army trucks and taken to a home with no electricity, told to stay away from the windows, we all slept on the concrete floor. Next day we were loaded onto a rusty tiny boat. My brother was with me as we were shipwrecked in the ocean on a sand bar, the rudder broke and we drifted during the night. We were eventually rescued by an ocean liner and arrived in the capital of Rangoon, then on to Bangkok Thailand where we lived for one month waiting for the war to end. My brother was my rock through this ordeal. We finally made it to Wheaton Illinois, where we stayed for three years. Talk about culture shock!! Mark and I raked leaves in the fall, and shoveled snow in the winter, playing and laughing, more than working, a whole new world!

For high school, we were sent to Manila Philippines, where we had never been and did not speak the language. I relied on Mark for everything, he was my big brother. He looked out for me, warned me about boys not to date, baked me a birthday cake for my 16th birthday, made me things in woodworking class and photography class, checked in on me in the dorm, comforted me when I was homesick and loved me more than anyone ever had. We went home to Bangladesh only Christmas and summer breaks. One trip home, during the Vietnam war, we were the only Americans on the plane, there was to be an emergency stop in Saigon. The plane was silent as we landed, the doors opened and two soldiers with bayonets drawn slowly walked through the plane, seemingly looking for someone. They walked past us, we avoided eye contact, my fingernails were digging into Mark’s arm in fear. They disembarked and we took off again.

Through college, Mark was again my rock and protector. When my used car that I had saved and saved for was totaled by a drunk driver, Mark let me use his rusty little blue Volkswagen bug and he relied on his motorcycle to get to school and work. Mark and I played racquetball several times a week and would spend time talking and catching up after our games. He always beat me but didn’t rub it in! He was always a listening ear and gave sage advice. Mark worked for an international company for over 20 years, I would get calls at all times of the day and night from Egypt, Malasia, Nigeria, Lebanon, etc. He was always a phone call away.

Mark passed away almost one year ago of an unexpected heart attack, my world was forever changed, I could not imagine how I could go on without him in my life. His long-term wife had told him years ago that he should not have any contact with me because as she said, “you talk to your sister more than you talk to me”. We had to hide our phone calls. I was not invited to Mark’s funeral. I learned on Facebook when the service was in Reno Nevada. I flew there and thankfully I was allowed to attend and speak about everything Mark was to me, and how he had been my best friend and confidante for all of our lives, lots of funny stories and memories poured out of me in remembrance of my amazing brother. I learned from other attendees that he also meant the world to so many people. I met his three granddaughters for the first time and told them stories about their grandfather, what a kind and inspiring man he was.

I recently retired from a 36-year career as a Social Worker and Administrator for a county department. I struggled with retirement and thought long and hard about how to fill my days with meaningful activities. I signed up to volunteer for an agency that provides advocates for foster youth, I became a “Court Appointed Special Advocate” and was assigned a teen girl.

In the almost three years that I have been advocating and spending time with her, she has moved to three different foster homes, and attended three different high schools, and had several social workers assigned and reassigned. I have become “Mark” to her, being her rock, helping her with changes, packing up all her belongings and helping her to get settled in her new homes, schools. I take her out to eat and lots of Starbucks trips. I help her with her homework and cheer her on in all her successes, and sit with her with all her losses. I am always a phone call away.

Albert Schweitzer said, “In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit”. Mark taught me how to truly love and be present, how to offer support and comfort. Mark showed me about hard work, and about sacrifice, and how to find humor in practically everything! He is still in my life, when I volunteer with foster kids, when I make green bean casserole at Thanksgiving, (his favorite), when I travel to new places, when I watch the sun rise in the morning, when I watch the world cup, he’s here in it all.

I want to touch other people’s lives and impact their suffering because of who my brother Mark was, and how he showed up for me and other people in his lifetime. I am so very grateful for what I learned from him, and now I am carrying his compassion forward into the lives of those that desperately need it. Wherever he is in the afterlife, I want him to be proud of his little sister, that she is who she is because of him.