Tag: family

  • Maybe You’re Not Trapped

    Maybe You’re Not Trapped

    My father always warned me against driving someone else’s car. The reason? It can be a sticky situation if you damage it. Clearly, that was in the back of my mind when I first refused to drive my brother-in-law’s newly serviced 2019 Z06 Corvette home from the dealer. The dealer was closed but my sister and I had the key.  By the time we reached the parking lot, the idea of shifting through the gears grew on me. But once inside. I realized I was in unfamiliar territory. See video below.

    The Treasure: If you’re in a situation where you feel trapped, recognize you might be stuck and be willing to accept help.

    If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

    This is my brother-in-law’s car. I had agreed to help him by driving it home from the dealer after being serviced. My sister dropped me off, I got into the car and she drove away, across the parking lot where she waited for me to catch up. Only one thing looked familiar in this stealth machine – the steering wheel. I pushed what I thought was the ignition button, but it popped the hood instead. Of course I couldn’t drive it that way so … I went to open the door to get out to shut the hood, but there was no door handle, and I was clueless on how to get out. So I grabbed my phone to call my sister for help, but my phone died in my hand. Finally she backed up to see what was up. She found me sitting in the car, engine not started, hood popped, phone dead, and not knowing how to get out! Once on the road, the ride was amazing. I’d do it again in a minute.

    Have you ever felt trapped in a situation you’re not really trapped in? Life can feel that way sometimes. The lesson? Recognize that you might be stuck and be ready to accept help. And also … keep your phone charged. J

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  • Grateful for Simplicity

    Grateful for Simplicity

    I remember the day I pronounced the greatest complement about my favorite person, and how it became my earliest memory of embarrassment. I said, “I love Aunt Mable because she’s simple.” Being in my single-digit years, I experienced this countryside woman as welcoming and uncomplicated. Nothing seemed to rattle her, and I felt the hospitality of her heart that made me relax in her presence. The beauty of her character inspired me.  Plus, she played old hymns on her violin and made the best homemade waffles when I visited my cousins on weekends.

    But when I made that statement about loving to be with my simple aunt, the adults in the room missed the innocence of my statement and burst into laughter. They exposed the opposite of what I meant. They said that simple meant “simpleton” or someone who is stupid, who lacks intelligence or has no common sense. In retrospect I suppose it was quite a funny statement to make (and it became a joke in years to come), but my love for my aunt with the hospitable heart makes me take pause and smile today.

    I still value a simple life—simple as in uncomplicated, relaxed, and uncluttered by thoughts or too much stuff. It seems out of reach in the busyness of (even) a good life. But as another Thanksgiving passes, I feel the tug to slow down, breathe, and become that “simple” presence that inspired me as a child.

    The Treasure: Kindness, a word of encouragement, a quiet faith, or fellowship around homemade waffles may influence a child or change the trajectory of a life.

    If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

    The earliest memory I have of my aunt is the day she put me on the back of her old horse named Fury, and we rode down to the blueberry patch on her one hundred acres of land in New England and had lunch there—blueberry muffins and a sweet time together. I’m thinking about Aunt Mabel today because I actually need someone to inspire me. I think I need a little encouragement, so I’m walking a trail remembering her—how she lived as a woman, as a widow, as a mom, as my Aunt Mabel. She was a devout woman of God; she loved her family; she loved me. The thing about her that I remember often is that she befriended people who didn’t have friends, and everyone felt welcome at her table. I loved sitting with her and hearing her. One day she sent me a card that said, “Some people walk by faith … with you it looks more like dancing.” I don’t feel like that’s true of me today, but it still inspires me to take the next step, to keep going beyond the fence where Pilgrim is. That’s what she did. She travelled, she revisited old relationships, dealt with difficulties in her life, in her family, and encouraged people greatly. So, I am looking back—looking with gratitude that there are people who inspire me along the way to live and love well. 

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