Read this story and – at its end – you’ll have an opportunity to give something truly unique this Christmas.
A few months ago, from our driveway here in south Florida, I loaded both kiddos and the husband into my mother and father-in-law’s van and set off for Tennessee. Exhaustion clung to me like the wet heat on our hot mornings. If one more person asked one more thing – even a little thing, like pass the salt shaker – I’d lose it. The preceding weeks had been doozies.
I’d sold my company, working through the minutiae necessary for such, and begun flying back and forth to the parent company’s home base in Colorado to transition people and practices. I was brought in for discussions about another company of theirs that had been seriously underperforming for 13 years and needed a solution. And the non-profit I lead in Florida had just acquired new office space, necessitating my move into it and an update of all of our business documents (letterhead, business cards, website, etc.). I’d attended several conferences in multiple states, met with clients in other states to ease them into the acquisition transition, and taken on a writing project that required writing an autobiography in a matter of weeks to coincide with a film launch.
In the middle of all that, we’d also moved into a new home and headed into the hectic Summer routine of a different kid camp (and hours) every week.
And you want me to pass the salt shaker?!
I fell into the van’s passenger seat, praying I’d somehow managed to remember to pack Miss Bear or my daughter wouldn’t be able to sleep and that my son’s cell phone charger was floating around somewhere or he’d be without a connection to his friends.
We’d been driving for several hours when my cell rang. It was my mother-in-law, who had my car since we’d taken her van for the trip.
“Honey, your car is trashed,” she began.
I felt my shoulders start to inch even higher. Another thing I already knew I needed to do, but had no time to address. I’m a nut about keeping my car picked up and clean…but everything else felt more important, so I’d let it go. The clients, the staff, the husband, the kids – none of them really cared about the state of my car and I could just swallow my stress over it every morning when I got in it to go to work. I took a breath to respond, but she continued before I could speak.
“I know you just haven’t had time. I’m going to clean it out and have it washed so it’s all ready for you when you get home, okay? I just wanted to make sure that was okay.”
I couldn’t help it. Hot tears started streaming. One thing off my plate. One thing important to me and necessary…now off my To Do list and handled. I thanked her profusely. We ended the call. I told my husband again how much I love his mother.
When we returned home several days later, I learned that she’d held very true to her word by spending hours cleaning even the crevices of my car’s interior. It looked brand new again. Every morning thereafter, I sat down in the driver’s seat and – instead of stressing about one more thing to do and no time to do it – I looked around at the clean state of things and smiled before heading off to the new office.
Little things make big differences to the people who receive them. Hearing about these things makes a difference, too. It reminds us to be that source of kindness for someone. It helps us remember when we received a little help and how it didn’t feel little.
So when Paul Parkinson came to me with an idea for collecting stories like this in a book – for highlighting the unselfishness that makes us the humans we were created to be – I jumped on board faster than a TV-buyer at a Best Buy Black Friday sale.
Which is where you come in. Would you like to give a really unique Christmas gift this year? Do you have a story like mine? A time when someone did something for you? I want to hear it. I’d like to consider including it in this book. Here’s the deal:
Email your story to me at firstname.lastname@example.org or call me at 239-403-0203 and tell me some details of it. If we can work it into the book, then you will have memorialized that person’s kindness – and we’ll send you a certificate attesting to such that you can give them at Christmas. When the book releases next year, we’ll send you a free copy that you can then give to your kindness giver as another thank you for their generous spirit.
If you want to participate, I need your story by December 20 to meet the publisher’s deadline.
Thanks for reading this far. I’m excited to hear your stories and grateful to you for being a witness to mine.
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