So there I am, tooling past fields of gorgeous first cutting hay, over the creek, around the hedgerow on the way to the therapeutic riding barn. Beautiful day. Warm, sunny, low humidity, great to be alive.
Up yonder I spot a box turtle crossing the road. Shell length is about six or seven inches, so maybe a young adult off on young adult business, but making predictably labored progress across the perilous asphalt. I am slowing my old Prius down, thinking to offer an assist to this worthy wayfarer, when the driver in the opposite lane beats me to it. He stops his white van, hops out, helps our terrapin friend to the culvert they were aiming for, and speeds along his way.
I am happy all the way to the barn (another thirty miles) because of that gesture of good will from one travel to another. The whole incident lasted maybe twenty seconds, but an hour later, I am still full of the goodness of human nature, the magic of life on earth, and a bunch of other fairy dust. I put the Guy In the White Van on my list of gratitudes that night because he did my heart such good.
And then a thought intrudes: So why didn’t you let him know that, Grace Ann? Why not a beep-beep of thanks? A thumbs up out the window? Anything to convey good wishes? Why hoard the fairy dust?
Upon reflection, even writing down gratitudes can be a little hoard-ish. That exercise ensures I end my day on a positive note, with a little inventory of hope and abundance. All to myself. Hmm.
The next day when I went to the barn, I was more on the alert for opportunities to say the words. “Thank you,” to the other volunteers, to the horses, to the lovely grass growing in the pastures, and to the rose bushes which have survived an assault of kudzu and grape vines that would have felled lesser flowers. I challenged myself to speak other words of fairy dust: “That was a big help!” or, “You do that so well.”
My thoughts are often congenial, but I don’t verbalize the warm-heartedness. What am I saving it for? My gratitude list? The first of the month? My death bed? I know some of my reticence is because I feel self-conscientious when people compliment me. I don’t know how to respond. I don’t want to brush off good wishes, but nobody owes me a pat on the back for anything, ever.
Baggage like that aside, I have also simply not made a habit of sharing a happy thought. When I’m teaching in the riding arena, I am trained to spot and affirm what’s going right. Take me out of that milieu, though, and the speak-your-joy mechanism goes silent. Going forward, I hope that, with all my biggity-pants vocabulary, I can make better use of, “Thank you!” “Much appreciated!” or simply, “What you did is wonderful.”
What do you have trouble saying?
PS For the two remaining individuals who might not know it, A Gentleman of Modest Ambitions has published in the web store, in print, and on all the retail sites!
I have a hard time saying no.
No to my club members…. Susan can you help with ….
No to my work associates…Susan can you take care of this….
No to my family….can you….
It’s my goal to say no this year….not sure how successful it’s going!!
What a spectacularly powerful word to claim for your own. Good luck, Susan!
It’s hard to say No because we want to be helpful and useful and needed. But we forget we have to take care of ourselves and our time first.
My spouse compliments me on how often I pass on compliments to others.
It brings me joy when I get compliments, so I work hard to speak them to others too, in hopes of lighting up their day.
It truly is the Little things that matter!
And what a lovely circle, that your spouse thought to compliment you on your compliments! This could be contagious.
I’m sorry. You were right and I was wrong.
Not easy to admit.
Good words, and I find that usually, when I just put it out there, “I got that wrong. I am sorry. What can I do to make amends?” A subtle tension diffuses. It’s relief when we admit we’re human. The room gets more oxygen or something.
It’s so hard to admit we are or were wrong.
I think it’s probably the apology that Pat Dupuy mentioned. I think I’m pretty good at saying “Thank you.” I probably could do better, however, with telling someone they did a good job when I think doing a good job is a “given” and only to be expected (my standards for myself and others may be too high). Hopefully, saying “Thank you” is helpful then.
Somewhere I read that the twelve most important words are: I was wrong. I am worry, Please forgive me. I love you.
But thank you must be in the running for words 13 and 14, I think.
My issues are more around “when.” I was the child with the awkward questions, am the adult who apologizes when “thank you,” is more appropriate. And I do, in general, find it difficult to speak with both feet in my mouth.
I was the child who’d just blurt stuff out and then run from the room. I think we have a variant of the same gene.
I have trouble keeping my mouth shut. I am always, but always the one who speaks when everyone else in the vicinity is thinking, “Please, please don’t.”
I’m the person who doesn’t remember the thanks, the snappy comeback, or the comforting word until I’m home & my brain has a break from dealing with people. But I do try to either hug or smile in the moment as it feels appropriate. And I do call when I realize what I should’ve said.
Put me in the midst of animals & I seem to communicate just fine. Birds perch mere feet from me. Critters at the zoo amble over. Dolphins at oceanariums come swim alongside the glass. And friends stopped asking me to come to the pound or Humane Society with them to help pick out pets because I’ll end up with armloads of cats in the meeting room or every dog in the place will go berserk trying to crawl through the bars to get to me.
So I’m resigned to being the awkward one at peopling. I’d much rather have the barred hawk sit on my neighbor’s fence to supervise my typing, or carry on whistling & chirping back at the mockingbird who follows me to the mailbox apparently under the impression I have a speech impediment that needs correcting. Yes, I’ll come remove the black racer from your porch. He’s only there to eat the lizards. I have video of the turtle who literally came to my front door & banged on the glass. And my friend is relieved to leave her rescue pup with the major separation anxiety with me for stretches now I’ve explained to him that, “Yes, momma is coming back & I have cheese to share if you’ll settle down & be a good boy.”
For me, the hard words are “Would you please help me? I can’t do this alone.” So attuned to being capable and strong and independent…No one ever refuses, but it is so hard to ask for help.
It’s so hard to ask for help! We think we should be able to do it ourselves. As I get older I’m more often asking for help, but it’s HARD and it makes me feel like a loser that I can’t do it by myself.
Yes, like Anne, I’m very bad at asking for help. I tell myself I can do it on my own and then I’m stressed and it takes forever.
I also hesitate (more then hesitate, never actually do it) to tell someone something that will make them feel bad. I once slipped on a friends’ icy steps, fell backwards and hurt my back on the concrete stairs. I lay there for a while until I could manage to get upright and eventually hobbled to my car. I thought about going back up to the door and telling my friends that I’d slipped and that they needed to put salt or cat litter on the steps so that wouldn’t happen to someone else, but I knew that they’d feel guilty that I’d been injured and I wanted to protect them from that. My back hurt for two months but I never said a word.
I was taught to say please and thank you! My son goes out of his way to let people know they are doing a good or sometimes, great job! It bolsters people up , when maybe they have heard negativity when serving others in the restaurant or store. My greatgrandaughter, his granddaughter, asked me recently if I wanted to pick flowers with her. They were just little weed flowers, but when i showed her what I picked, she said, “good job Mamaw!” My heart melted!!
What a wonderful family! It’s amazing what a positive word can do for someone.
“Thank you” was an early lesson I learn at home even though we all had our own difficulties as a family, however it is a treasure to be able to say some kind of thank you. The words most difficult to say basically to my self is “listen carefully before speaking”. I maind not being really listen to and many times I want to reach out and say someting that will sooth, solve or explain, which is not what others may need at the time. It is a skill and one which I still work on often.
Why are we so afraid to share our “feelings”? Big question and needs attention working with all! Thank you Grace for your inspiring words to all of us in the blog and also in your books.
I think, “I was wrong” is maybe the hardest. It makes me brace for punishment and so I have a difficult time not avoiding it. But the more times it has no ill-effects, the easier it is becoming. I’m a little jealous of those who seem to navigate tricky conversations without stress. Maybe one day…
I have trouble being able to express to my two grown daughters that It would be nice if when they called us it wasn’t just to ask for our help for something they want to accomplish. I would love them to just say hi or see how we’re doing… and I wind up taking the avoidance path of not saying how I feel and then sitting and brooding about it!