Happily Ever After: The Life-Changing Power of a Grateful Heart

by Sutter, Trista

  If you feel as lucky as I do, you have met people through your job who make the day fly by, allow you to vent about things your family may not understand, help you finish a special project or celebrate life victories, and even meet you for a drink (or three) after a super-stressful day. Work, and the responsibilities that go with it, aren’t always easy (including applying fake lashes), but no matter how big or small their contributions to your daily happiness, the people we work with can be the spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine go down.

  THE RESEARCH PROVES IT

  Common sense tells us that we work better when someone tells us we’re doing a great job. It’s not just an instinct of parenting or a trick teachers use to encourage their students—science backs it up. If you don’t believe me, or even your own mom, believe professionals like Jane Dutton. A leader in the positive psychology movement, she is based at the University of Michigan and believes that even the simplest gestures that show you care can add a level of humanity to a workplace—and raise performance levels.

  A survey done by the American Psychological Association reported similar findings. After questioning more than 1,700 employees, researchers found that 93 percent are motivated to do their best work when they feel they are valued by their employers.

  And these aren’t the only findings out there. In 2009, researchers at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School did a study on positive behavioral effects of gratitude through a fund-raising experiment. Two groups were created. The first worked exactly as they always had, making calls to ask alumni for donations. The second group was given a pep talk in which the director told them she was very grateful for the wonderful work they were doing before they started making their calls.

  Who do you think did a better job? That’s right. The second group made 50 percent more calls over the week than group one, which significantly increased their odds of raising money for their school. Because the volunteers felt valued, they were far more eager to make their director proud.

  As one blogger at the Harvard Business Review said, “There is far too little praise and appreciation in most work environments.” And it’s not just bosses and their staff who have this problem. Coworkers are just as guilty. So make it a point to appreciate a coworker’s efforts this week. Notice the smile or the resultant improvement in their mood. Be proud of that, along with knowing that you are helping the company you work for through scientifically supported facts.

  Passing on a little sunshine can never hurt, even if it’s for the benefit of someone or something other than yourself. William Makepeace Thackeray, an English novelist, said it best: “Next to excellence is the appreciation of it.”

  A TEACHER’S GIFT

  Growing up, I always looked up to my aunt Nancy. She had studied fine arts overseas in Rome, and I admired her as a cultured and well-traveled artist—not to mention a fun-loving and beautiful one. The youngest of my mother’s three sisters, she and her son, my cousin Courtney, lived with my mom and me for a few years—as did the papier-mâché Angel Gabriel she created during her time in Italy. Loaned to my mom to watch over me as a baby, it’s an object I will never forget, something that made me feel safe and loved as a child even if I wasn’t its creative inspiration. It was basically my intro to the arts, as well as to my aunt’s talent.

  Unfortunately, Nancy soon realized after her time in Rome that she didn’t have the chops for the visual arts. What she does have the chops for is the literary arts—as demonstrated to our family every year when she and Courtney would write and illustrate stories as Christmas gifts. She has a wonderful way with words and a passion for storytelling, and my hope is that someday she’ll write her own book filled with her inspirational messages. Here is just one of many. . . .

  Going to school was hard work, and it always felt like a job. At St. Boniface Catholic Grade School, the bosses came in many forms, uniforms and titles. They included the black-gowned priests whom we called “Father,” the brown-habited nuns whom we called “Sister,” and lay teachers in suits or dresses whom we called Mr. or Mrs.

  It was the weekend before Labor Day 1961, and I was about to start 5th grade, and for the 5th year in a row, I was not looking forward to once again being branded as a “remedial reader.” Reading had never come easy to me, and I had learned that words were to be feared. Many a day and night I sat on my father’s lap, book in hand, and I’d feel his arms tighten around me as I got the teeny tiny words wrong, time and time again.

  From the first grade up to this doom-felt beginning of the 5th grade, I would brace myself for the reading tests. The nuns in their brown Franciscan cloaks with rulers in their hands would have each student read a paragraph and decide if they were an “advanced,” “sufficient,” or “remedial” reader. I will always remember the sound of the ruler as the nun smacked it into her palm when I either hesitated or mispronounced a word. You might as well have slapped me across my face—the humiliation was just as de-humanizing.

  With every attempt, I got used to the laughter coming from my fellow classmates as I struggled through my assigned paragraph. I was grateful for the occasional rescue whispered by a helpful student sitting behind me, until I realized it could be used to cause me more embarrassment. One year, there was a passage that had the word “applause.” I stopped cold. I heard “applesauce” and spoke it out loud. All the students roared—no one as loudly as my teacher.

  After school, I would run home, retreat to the upstairs bathroom, lock the door, sit on the floor, and look into the bathroom’s crystal doorknob to find my friend “Mary Jane” looking back at me from one of the facets. She was the one person I could trust to listen to and soothe my heart. When I told her my stories, she never stopped or chastised me for getting words wrong. She laughed along with my laughter but never laughed AT me, and she cried when I cried. She would repeat along with me: “I AM OK.”

  So those were the memories that were whirling through my brain on the eve of 5th grade. When we arrived at St. Boniface on the first day of school, we found out that the 5th and 6th grades would be divided into two. Half of each grade would be placed together and have its own teacher. My teacher was to be Mrs. Ida Smith. I do not remember the name of the other teacher, but it was a Mister (a young married man and an oddity never before seen within those hallowed walls). Because it seemed that all the cool kids were assigned to his class, I remember wanting him to be my teacher.

  To this day, I remind myself that not getting what you want can actually be a wonderful stroke of luck.

  In an effort to set the tone for the year, Mrs. Smith’s first lecture was about those tiny bumps that sometimes appear for no reason in your mouth. She said that when you lied, they would appear, and she asked us never to lie to her. If she thought you were lying, she would ask you to open your mouth. To this day, when I get one of those tiny bumps, I question my integrity.

  After another horrific reading test, Mrs. Smith asked me to stay inside during recess. My heart dropped. I wondered what new punishment was going to befall me now. She came and sat in the desk right in front of me, just me and her in the classroom. She took my small white hands inside her soft brown hands and our dark eyes connected. I started to well up with big puddles of tears until I heard her say, “You are not stupid.” She told me to repeat after her: “I am not stupid.” She then asked me: “Are you stupid?” and reminded me about those tiny bumps. I sat up straight, and said: “No, I AM NOT STUPID!” and immediately, my tongue made a 360 degree sweep to see if any tiny bumps appeared. Mrs. Smith asked to see inside and said, “It must be true . . . You are smart!”

  I felt lighter than ever before.

  I felt I had grown wings.

  With just four simple but powerful words, Nancy felt valued as a student. With the encouragement of her “boss,” she believed in herself and her abilities for the first time. She told me that that day she was taught that words and people are not to be feared. Instead, they could be her best friends and together they could write
and tell their stories, “connecting one heart to another through lives and encounters and forever moments.”

  Nancy never got to show Mrs. Smith how high she flew or thank her for giving her such a life-changing gift. Her impactful legacy, though, lives on through my aunt Nancy and the lives she touches through her love of words.

  So, to all the Mrs. Smiths out there who know the importance of a job well done—thank you. Thank you for caring enough to go the extra mile at work and lovingly plant seeds of confidence in the children of the world. Your words of inspiration not only give them the wherewithal to truly succeed as students, but positively influence their futures, allowing them to flourish as successful, productive, and compassionate adults.

  Give yourself a break. Whether you schedule it as part of your day or it’s just one of those days when it seems like nothing is going your way, excuse yourself, escape to a quiet corner, stay put, close your eyes, and in your private space, focus on the basics—breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. Give yourself a good thirty seconds to visualize the perfect day and then get back at it.

  You may not feel like it when you are dealing with your colleagues at work, but as the author Tony Gaskins said, “You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce.” In behavioral psychology, it’s called the “Law of Effect”—events that follow an action will weaken or strengthen the likelihood it will occur again. If you allow being overworked without additional compensation, you get overworked without compensation. If you blow off praise without genuine appreciation, chances are that you’ll blow off the hope of future praise. It’s your boss’s responsibility to give you feedback on your productivity and outcomes, but it’s your responsibility to make sure that he or she continues to do so, in the best way possible.

  If you are stuck in a job full of negative energy, don’t let it overflow into your home life. Once you leave the “office,” unburden your mind of any drama by meditating, writing down your struggles and throwing them out, or physically regrouping through walking or stretching, before you get home. Your home is meant to be your sanctuary. Keep it sacred.

  If you are stuck in a profession where you can’t see eye to eye with the people you face day to day, or you are just plain unhappy, try to channel the late comedian George Burns, who once said, “I’d rather be a failure at something I love than a success at something I hate.” Put effort into pushing the occupational clouds out of the way so that your dream job can be revealed. Ask yourself what you regret not pursuing—what you always thought about doing but were too afraid to fail—and write it down. If you do that, you will have taken the first necessary step toward making it a reality. Now keep going, one foot after the other, at whatever pace you can handle, and I have no doubt you’ll get there.

  Before I had kids, I worked in direct sales for a company called B’s Purses. I did home parties where ladies could customize their own handbag, tote, or clutch. I learned the ropes from my sorority sister Angela, who was not only the sister of the founder but the rep with the most success. As new reps joined and worked “under” me, I took all her tips and tricks and passed them on, hoping to also pass on the success that Angela had helped me achieve. Yes, I earned a small percentage from their sales, but it wasn’t about the extra bit of money. We were all part of a team and didn’t let competition get the best of us. Instead, we focused on helping each other—offering up advice and assistance and celebrating one another’s victories through encouragement and mentorship. It was a great job because we made it great, and you have the ability to do the same. Create an enjoyable work environment through the choices you make and the support you give, and you can make your job great too.

  We Are All Connected

  The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt.

  —FREDERICK BUECHNER

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE WEB OF CONNECTIONS WE ALL WEAVE IS TANGLED with causes and effects. Whether direct or indirect, known or unknown, our links to others can drastically influence the path people choose for their lives, the attitudes they embrace, and the actions they take as they face their future.

  We all live in our own little sections of the world, but each of us has the power to reach beyond our own borders and touch other lives, no matter how far away. A study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science confirms it. The researchers found that if someone behaves generously, up to three degrees of others feel inspired to spread that altruistic spirit at a later date, to different people. That means one person can inspire generosity in three people, and those three people can inspire it in nine people, and those nine people can inspire it in twenty-seven, and so on and on. We can’t control all the ripples caused by our pebble’s effect on the world’s body of water, but we know they’re there, even if the pebble fell so softly that the ripples can’t be seen.

  Moving forward, think of the effect you have on the world and its effect on you. We are all touched by others. We all have the power to connect and the power to affect. It’s up to you to use that power wisely.

  GRACE UNDER FIRE

  Each year, Americans give about $300 billion to charitable causes in hopes of effecting positive change, whether in their community or on the far side of the world. However, there aren’t any statistics for the countless lives that have been altered by kind words, a gentle touch, a listening ear, a random act of kindness, a beautiful vision, or a fearless deed of generosity. We do know that they happen, though.

  StoryCorps (StoryCorps.org), a national radio documentary project that has archived more than 40,000 stories of American individuals, recorded one of my favorite examples of an extraordinary gesture of goodwill. It’s the story of a social worker named Julio Diaz.

  In 2008, Diaz was riding the subway on his way home to the Bronx from work, planning to stop at his regular diner for dinner. His plans were drastically changed when a teenager sprang out at him, pulled a knife, and demanded that Diaz hand over his money.

  Diaz watched as the teen walked away with his wallet. Instead of thanking his lucky stars that he wasn’t physically injured, Diaz did something that would never cross most of our minds—he called out to his assailant, “Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something. If you’re going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm.”

  Then he did something even more unimaginable: he invited the young man to join him for dinner. A warm coat, and now a hot meal? The stunned boy agreed. At the restaurant, the teen noted how friendly his victim was to everyone who worked there, from the waitress to the dishwasher.

  He asked Diaz if he owned the restaurant.

  “No,” Diaz said.

  “Then why are you so nice to everyone?”

  “That’s how I was raised.”

  The boy was shocked, thinking, People actually live like that?

  The bill came, but the teen still had the stolen wallet. Surprisingly, he returned it, and Diaz kept his promise to pay for dinner. He then handed his mugger twenty dollars. Following Diaz’s lead, the teen handed over his knife. Hopefully, he never used one in a potentially violent situation again.

  To me, this story is a poignant illustration of what Benjamin Disraeli, a British prime minister, once said: “The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your riches but to reveal to him his own.”

  Julio Diaz made a conscious and brave decision to lend a hand and impart an important life lesson to someone who could’ve easily killed him that day. He chose kindness toward a stranger over fear and self-preservation. I don’t know that I could be as courageous or as trusting in someone who took advantage of me in such a frightening way, but I will remember the message of this inspiring story and attempt to follow its noble example.

  JOINED AT THE SOCIAL HIP

  Whether in the media or my blogs, social medi
a posts, or this book, I’ve always been open to sharing my battles and victories with anyone interested to know them. It’s my way of both shouting my happy moments from the rooftops and also letting those who may be experiencing similar battles know that they aren’t alone and that they shouldn’t give up hope. The story of my and Ryan’s difficulties in getting pregnant is no different.

  During that time, I got letters not only from friends but also from people I had never met who wished me well and thanked me for sharing my story—something many in the public eye are understandably hesitant to do for fear of judgment or to maintain some semblance of privacy. Hearing that someone else in the universe was experiencing a struggle like theirs gave them the inspiration to keep fighting and make their own baby dreams come true. I can’t put into words how much these connections touched my heart, but something Herman Melville once said comes pretty close: “We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.”

  Now, in our age of social media, we are connected like never before. At a moment’s notice, we can catch up with what just about anyone in the world is up to or reach out to them via their website, blog, Twitter page, or Facebook wall. I use the gift of this generation’s technological advances to interact with people from all over the world. I don’t have an assistant who poses as me online. I respond personally to specific questions or interesting comments while snuggling with my Disney Junior–loving kids, on road trips (as a passenger, of course), or during any other moment I can bury my face in my phone. The best part: I almost always get a thank-you in return.

  This medium and its ability to allow us to connect to those we’ve never met has also given me cherished gifts. Take, for example, this Facebook message I received back in October 2009. Cheryl Church wrote,