April Showers
And Life Lessons
Hey Readers!
It’s a rainy day in New England, coming off of an eventful weather week. We’ve had forecasted snow, seventy degrees, an earthquake, and a solar eclipse in the past seven days. Quintessential New England!
Life is like the weather too, isn’t it? It can change on a whim. You can’t control the universe, so no matter how prepared you are, you can be caught off guard. What’s more interesting is that even though we know this, we’re still shocked when it happens. Like today, when I set out on my morning walk. When I drove to a nearby location to take my stroll, the weather was great. Naturally, when I got there, the rain started.
Now—here’s the thing—I’ve never historically been a person to prepare for the rain. You’d think, living in New England where the weather shifts on a dime, I’d be prepared with everything from snow boots to rain jackets and umbrellas in my trunk. Nope. Not me. In fact, when my kids were little, and I’d drop them off at preschool, I was shamelessly the mom running late into the school minus an umbrella (though my daughter had cute little Froggie rain boots).
Once, pre Covid and pre remote world, back when I actually drove to the city to go to work, I had an important meeting. It had been a glorious sunny day, with no rain in sight.
While I was in the meeting, it started to torrential rain. Like BUCKETS. I remember standing at the door to leave at the end of the meeting, looking out into the parking lot as rain poured out of the sky. I dreaded the busy city traffic and hour ride home in that weather. People lose their shit in the rain on highways in New England, especially in cities during rush hour. Give ‘em snow and they got it. Rain? They literally lose their minds. (I still haven’t figured out why!) Not to mention the fact I’d be soaked for the ride, because of course, I didn’t have an umbrella or a jacket. It was summer, after all.
The head of the committee I had been working with insisted I take his umbrella. It was a nice, sleek black umbrella that I imagine might have cost him more than the Walmart version I would have bought for myself, if I had bought one. Of course, I said, “No, no I’ll be fine.” To which he said, “Sarah, take it. You can’t drive home soaking wet. Just give it to me next time you see me.”
Famous last words.
A couple of days later, COVID hit and we were all set home for two weeks. Two weeks that turned into two years. Then, I switched jobs.
All of this reminds me of that saying—I can give you a fish, or I can teach you to fish. Teaching someone to fish is always the better idea, because it empowers them to go forth on their own. A colleague of mine taught me how to fish at work recently. Not literally, but figuratively. I had a question on some corporate speak I’d never been trained to do and asked his thoughts. He said, “Let’s jump on a call, I’ll show you.” I loved that. I love teaching and empowering others. Empowerment is what A Busy Lady Substack is all about, after all.
That said, I realized something today as I opened my car door to step out into the rain. I remembered; I have an umbrella! The one the nice man gave me at that meeting in what feels like lifetimes ago now.
In fact, when I switched jobs, once things went back to “normal” I called him up the day I cleaned out my office. I said, “Hey! I still have your umbrella. I’ll drop it by today.”
“No, no,” he insisted with a laugh. Then, we both reminisced about how much the world had changed in just the couple of days after that day long ago, when he gave me that umbrella. How two weeks turned into two years.
At the end of our call, even when I insisted on dropping it off at his office (which was across the city from mine), he refused. “You might need it,” he said. “When you do, think of me.”
So today, I thought of him as I grabbed it from my car, where I always keep it.
That’s when I realized: it’s good to teach someone how to fish. But sometimes, you just need the damn fish.
His gift of kindness, the tool I needed at that exact moment, which he gave, expecting nothing in return, has now saved me a thousand times over from drenched hair and clothes.
Not only that, but I could enjoy my walk, even in the rain.
Till Next Time,
Sarah