Yesterday I watched the film Seven Pounds…if you haven’t seen it I don’t want to ruin it for you so, avert your eyes and read something here or here.

The movie in summation is about a Man whose life takes a turn for the worse and he feels compelled to right the wrong he’s done in his life by finding Seven strangers to give very unique gifts. At first I found it tough to follow. What was he doing? Where was he going? But, then I became compelled by his actions. I was drawn in by his desperate desire to give these people who were deserving something of his to make their lives better.

I was confused why anyone would do that. And then as the movie progress from climax to closure, I figured it out or at least confirmed by own suspicions about why a man with seemingly everything would torment himself in this way.

He had suffered an incomprehensible loss. Loss like his makes people do things they would never have imagined doing before. This man had lost part of what made his life whole. But it took death to put a value on that life. It took seeing love destroyed for him to see the love was there. And only after that love was stricken from his life did he find value in those who needed that love…

…do we have to lose love to value it entirely?

The tragic story made me think about the value I put on love. My whole life I have struggled with unconditional love and what it truly is. Does it only come from those whose blood runs through your veins? Can someone who isn’t related in the closest form really love me without judgment? I doubt this daily. Without too much heartache my parents, my sister, my aunts and my uncles have loved me. Helped me. Guided me. Given to me when I needed it. Does this happen outside of the bonds of family?

What would I do if I lost the only person who loves me without judgement? Would I take my life and give it to those who are more deserving? Would I be as inspired as this character to find a way to make life right? Would I be humbled by my own vanity?

I don’t know.