With the kids at school and my mother-in-law visiting with the friends she had made here, I wasted the day crying and thinking about what a sucky human I was.
My father-in-law eventually arrived and expertly freed the cup from the sink. In the end, there was no need for a plumber, or a wasted day, for that matter. A cup had gotten stuck.
Big. Freaking. Deal.
When Ryan got home the next day, he reminded me of the big picture. In a twelve-day period with a three- and five-year-old and a stressed-out writer under deadline, a sink accident was a small price to pay for all the immense help and productivity his mother had allowed. She had dropped everything in her life to offer a generous helping hand, and what was important was that I had a peaceful avenue to attempt to catch up on work without neglecting my kids.
At the end of a day that started so horribly, I learned three great lessons:
1.If a sink breaks, you have a broken sink. So what. It’s just a sink.
2.Appliances are easily repaired or replaced. Relationships are not, especially those that come from pure love and consistently fill our bank of blessings.
3.I need to take a page out of my own book and remember to focus on gratitude, especially in stressful times.
To stay connected to our family living thousands of miles from each other, my mom set up a Facebook group just for us. It includes my half sister, my aunts, and my cousins and is a way for all of us to tune in to some of the most important people of our lives. If you’re feeling particularly detached from your loved ones, try doing the same and start the ball of reconnection rolling.
It can be immensely difficult to share your true emotions with the people you love, but after being faced with the fact that life is fleeting, I can say that it’s worth every uncomfortable moment. Start with the people you struggle with the most. Maybe it’s a parent, grandparent, or sibling. Before you finish your next conversation with that person, try out these three simple words: “I love you.” If that seems like too much to take on, maybe start signing your e-mails “Love,” and then gradually work into “love ya” then “I love you.” If you are worried about rejection or nonreciprocation, just think about the fact that you may not have the same chance tomorrow, and go for it. Nothing is stronger or more powerfully binding than a pure statement of love.
Unless you’re really lucky, your extended family is scattered across the country, or even the globe. The beauty of the twenty-first century, though, is that technology is ready and waiting for you to use it to your advantage to reach out and connect with someone. A call via Skype or Facetime or even the old-fashioned telephone doesn’t really compare to a kiss or a hug, but it’s better than nothing, and letting them know how much you care can put smiles on the faces of those you love.
To develop a family full of members with a strong sense of intergenerational self, sit down without distraction and talk. It’s as simple as that and can happen whenever and wherever focused attention is possible. Maybe it’s during mealtime or snack time, while at celebrations or on vacations. Regardless of the where, make time for the what. You’ll not only be spending quality time making memories, but you’ll be setting the stage for a strong family unit that communicates effectively and lives happily.
Thank You for Being a Friend
True friendship multiplies the good in life and divides its evils. Strive to have friends, for life without friends is like life on a desert island . . . to find one real friend in a lifetime is good fortune; to keep him is a blessing.
—BALTASAR GRACIAN
CHAPTER SIX
I GREW UP IN SUBURBAN CHESTERFIELD, MISSOURI, WHERE my mom, my dad, our black Lab, Abbey, and I lived a relatively happy life—that is, until my parents sat me down one surprising evening when I was in fifth grade and asked if I knew what “divorce” meant. Of course I had heard of it, but even after witnessing them argue for years, I never thought I would experience this devastating family upheaval firsthand. All these years later, I understand that they made the best decision for themselves and for our family, and our lives are better for it. I will admit, though, that when their marriage officially ended, I was incredibly sad.
As a little girl, it was one of the hardest things I had to deal with, both emotionally and logistically. After a judge weighed in, I was required to pack a bag every other weekend and travel thirty minutes to my dad’s house. That half hour felt like forever to me. As a mother who wants nothing more than to spend time with her kids, I understand why it was important for me to go, but back then it was the last thing I wanted to spend my Saturdays and Sundays doing. Instead of seeing those weekends as an opportunity to bond with my dad—whom I would now be ecstatic to see more often—I was solely focused on the fact that I was missing out on time with my friends. Big slumber party? I would miss it. Lounging by my BFF’s pool? Nope. Sunday at the movies? With my dad, maybe, but not with the girls, who I knew were clustered together over a barrel of popcorn, laughing their heads off and creating memories that I wouldn’t be a part of. Since I was an only child, my friends were the sisters I didn’t have (at least until later in life when I was blessed with both a stepsister and a half sister). And especially for a teenager, nothing quite compares to time with your friends. So even though I’ve always loved my dad, those weekends just about broke my heart.
When I think back on my childhood, those feelings of closeness, of belonging, of a connection with friends spring to mind. I remember the afternoons we spent giggling at the mall. Late-night phone calls sobbing about the boys who had broken our hearts. Lunchtime in the cafeteria at school, laughing about everything and absolutely nothing. I’ve always had such a deep appreciation for my friends, and that will never change. I love Ryan, my children, and my entire extended family, but my friends give me something my family can’t. They are my trusted therapists, pick-me-ups, and sounding boards who have usually been able to empathize with my struggles and successes best because most of them are at the same point in life that I am. They keep me company on the phone when my house is empty, share wise counsel about birthday-party and outfit planning, offer to pick up the kids from school if I have the flu, and remind me of what really matters when life hits a rough patch.
If you’re anything like me, you strive to be nurturing, considerate, and loyal, but sometimes it’s easy to take friends for granted. Take, for example, this story of Michelle (or, as I call her, Miss), my best friend from graduate school. She had just given birth to her first- and secondborn—twin baby girls named Carolina and Daniella. Born prematurely at twenty-seven weeks and at a little over a pound each, they were fighting for their lives in the neonatal intensive care unit of Joe DiMaggio Children’s Hospital. Her friends and family offered immeasurable support during that extremely difficult time, but what struck her the most was the thoughtfulness and unconditional devotion of three women: Beth, Penny, and Elizabeth.
Miss had been friendly with these women through her job as a physical therapist in the rehabilitation department at Memorial Regional, the sister hospital to Joe DiMaggio Children’s, prior to her admission on the labor and delivery floor there. However, their interactions had always been limited to the workplace.
Until now.
These three were the first visitors Michelle had in the recovery room after her traumatic C-section, and they stuck around for every step of her family’s two-and-a-half-month journey, always stopping by to check on them before, during, and after breaks on their shifts on the rehab floor. They offered listening ears as well as comforting shoulders to cry on when Miss needed them most. On one noteworthy occasion, Elizabeth showed up at the hospital at 1:00 a.m. after one of Michelle’s baby girls had undergone an especially difficult surgery. Michelle had called to vent and Elizabeth came to sit and just be her friend. She didn’t have to say anything. Just showing up and being emotionally present was enough.
Throughout the experience, Michelle thanked her lucky stars that those ladies stepped up when it really counted. I counted mine too. L
iving more than 2,000 miles away, I flew in to be by Miss’s side for what seemed like a blip of a visit, but at least when I left I knew she was in capable, caring hands, and my guilt dissipated (slightly).
The four women no longer work together, but Michelle has remained friends with them all. She knows that Elizabeth, Penny, and Beth all would drop everything again to be there for her, come what may, as she would be for each of them. She learned that even though she expected her family and closest friends to show their unadulterated support, she should never overlook those in her life with whom she may not have a long history, but who nonetheless want to be a dedicated part of her life. Taking her friends for granted isn’t an option. It shouldn’t be for any of us either.
MAKE NEW FRIENDS BUT KEEP THE OLD
Francesco Guicciardini, an Italian historian, said, “Since there is nothing so well worth having as friends, never lose a chance to make them.” It is a lesson even my young son, Max, could take to heart.
Max has always been sweetly shy, even when he was a baby. He lights up around his buddies and people he has a history with, but in new situations with unfamiliar faces, he has a difficult time sticking his neck out. June 18, 2012, was one of those days.
We had enrolled four-year-old Max in a weeklong sports camp called “Mini Hawks,” which they do in our area every summer. On opening day, we dropped him off for what we thought we would be three hours of fun-filled playtime. He would learn about basketball, baseball, and soccer, happily put more miles on his size-ten sneakers, and maybe even make some friends. That’s what we hoped, at least.
From the time I picked him up at the end of the day, and throughout the evening, I noticed that he was “off.” I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I suspected that he was either exhausted from running around all day, starting to come down with a nasty bug, or something was making him sad.
At bedtime, Ryan and I said goodnight to Blakesley first, and then it was Max’s turn to be tucked in. After he crawled under his covers, I said, “As your mommy, I will always be here to listen. Can you tell me why you are sad?”
He looked at me with his big, beautiful hazel eyes and quietly said, “No one would play with me today.”
My. Heart. Broke.
For a parent, hearing that your child is hurting is one of the most emotionally painful experiences you can experience. I felt my heart tearing into pieces for him. He hadn’t been bullied or beaten or physically hurt, but of all the experiences he’d had in his four years of life, this one made him feel miserable. Normally partnered up with his lively little sister or his best friend, Knox, whom he met when he was five days old in the neonatal intensive care unit, he had never felt the crushing sensation of feeling alone on a field full of his peers.
I immediately went into glass-half-full mode and suggested that maybe since Knox hadn’t signed up for the camp, Max could try to make a special new friend the next day. Maybe even one he could introduce Knox to and they could all play together.
His face lit up as he said, “Yeah!”
I explained that I knew it was hard for him to talk to boys and girls he didn’t know, but if he tried, he might meet someone he could have a super-fun day with. Besides, his daddy and I were partially to blame because we had arrived a few minutes late that morning, and the campers had already gone through the round of introductions.
Determined to make tomorrow a better day, Max went to sleep that night with a smile on his face and hope in his heart for a new friend. I could only pray that it would come to fruition.
Driving to Donovan Park to pick him up after camp the next day, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I searched the basketball court where they had the kids line up to wait for their parents to take them home and spotted Max—laughing. An instantaneous smile shot across my face.
When the counselors called Max’s name, he grabbed the backpack filled with extra clothes that was nearly half his size and came running toward Blakesley and me.
“Mommy, I made a new friend!”
I will never forget those joyful words or the abundance of pride I saw in my son’s expression.
After a day of heartache, he had soared above his expectations and met a boy he to this day calls his friend. With their ability to make each other laugh and a shared interest in swimming, ice-skating, T-ball, and being all-around silly, these two little boys had begun what hopefully will be a friendship that will continue for years and years to come.
TO BE(FRIEND) OR NOT TO BE(FRIEND)
“I didn’t come here to make friends.”
If you have ever watched The Bachelor or The Bachelorette, you’ve heard that phrase at least once every season. Some resolute contestants start down the fantasy date-filled path focusing all their energy on the road to a spouse, rather than the road to new friends. As someone who turned thirty during her televised quest for Prince Charming, I get that mind-set—I wanted a husband! The contestants think that if they actively ignore the other participants and focus solely on the man (or woman) of the hour, it will give them a leg up on the competition and they’ll be that much closer to the end of the fairy-tale rainbow.
Maybe. But I say, as with any other life experience, what would it hurt to turn strangers into friends? As Rod McKuen, an American singer-songwriter and poet, has said, “Strangers are just friends waiting to happen.”
Granted, when I first applied for The Bachelor, I wanted some excitement, to escape the rut I was feeling bogged down in, to travel, and perhaps most important, to meet some new friends. I’ve never understood the whole “I didn’t come here to make friends” strategy. Yes, everyone is vying for the same person, but by isolating yourself and being unfriendly, you aren’t showing your love interest that you are more dedicated to finding a partner—you are just showing him or her you are unfriendly and like to be socially isolated. To me, finding love in this (yes, unconventional) way has always been about showing your true colors and hoping that the compatibility pieces fall into place.
Granted, in ancient times, when I appeared on the first season of The Bachelor, all of the contestants, including myself, were naive. Even though we were explicitly told by the producers that we were in competition with one another, we were still just trying to find our footing in an unusual (albeit luxurious) environment. So we made it simple: when we weren’t out with our bachelor, we enjoyed our temporary lavish digs in paradise, had all-hours gab sessions, and whiled away our days by the pool with our fourteen new friends (on the first season, fifteen of us moved into the mansion after the first rose ceremony).
In the most recent seasons, I get that it’s not that simple. Many of the participants come into the process with a one-track mind—they want to stroll off into the sunset with a Neil Lane diamond on their ring finger. They want to be the next Ashley and J.P. or even Ryan and Trista. Since it’s not just them and their potential soul mate going through the courtship process as they would in the real world, this naturally causes a bit of drama. And I’ve never seen a producer fail to give existent drama a little nudge in the even-more-drama direction. After all, it’s the producers’ job to create attention-grabbing television and use anything they can to get America and the world to watch, even if that means encouraging rivalries, as opposed to allegiances, among the competitors.
The contestants think: Why make a friend with someone who is supposedly my enemy?
My response: Why not?
Even if you go on the show looking to fall in love, falling into like with some new friends isn’t such a bad thing.
I can attest to that.
More than eleven years after we said our televised good-byes, there are four girls out of those fourteen original roommates I still call my friends: Shannon, Amy, Angelique, and Christina. That’s pretty good odds. Each of them has gone on to find her own happily ever after in Texas, England, and California, but I will always look back at the laughter we shared in that big ol’ beautiful house on Zuma Beach and be thankful that those women were with me. None of
us won the heart of the man we all were vying for, but I’d say we all came out winners.
THE POWER OF HOPE
When I announced to my friends, family, and fans that I would be writing this book, the congratulatory messages I received were a very sweet, and welcome, surprise. Some of the most cherished notes came from loving friends who reached out with personal words of thanks. One of those friends was Amy Madden Copp.
Amy is a longtime friend of the Sutters, and when I became a Sutter myself, we hit it off and I felt lucky to then call her a friend, as well. Amy is a fun-loving and kind social butterfly with a happy soul. That happiness was temporarily threatened, however, when her attempts at becoming a mother proved to be more difficult than she had expected.
Her spirit seemed indestructible, but early in 2009 she shared with me her struggles, which created an immediate bond of commonality between us. I told her the story of my own disappointments in trying to conceive and that, just like me and millions of others, she should never give up hope.
She never did.
On August 25, 2009, she gave birth to a beauty named Maddy Noel.
Three years later, when I announced that I would be writing a book about having a grateful heart, Amy wrote me this message on Facebook: “Congrats, Trista! This is exciting. I think of you often when you encouraged me to keep trying for a baby. The miracle that is Maddy is a result of encouragement from my friends and your positive attitude that day! Gratitude all the way around!”
Although I humbly accept that I played a teeny-tiny part in her unrelenting resolve to continue moving forward toward achieving her personal dreams, I have it on good authority that the birds and the bees and a higher power played the predominant role in her pregnancy. I think it’s also fair to say that, without an already mostly positive attitude toward life and the support of her wonderful family and friends, my conversation with her that night would’ve had a good chance of falling to the wayside.
Happily Ever After: The Life-Changing Power of a Grateful Heart Page 10