It Doesn't Just Happen
Maybe it’s a mean thing someone said to you when you were nine. Maybe it’s a sweet thing someone whispered in your ear when you were twenty-two. Maybe it’s a line from a movie or a quote from your Facebook feed. Most of us have at least a few random phrases bouncing around in our heads, repeated back to us at sporadic intervals. I am fascinated by why some words or experiences stay in our heads and wind up informing who we are while others are simply forgotten. What is about that phrase? That time? I’m even more fascinated when the phrase doesn’t seem that profound. When it’s not a quote from Mother Teresa, the Dalai Lama or Dr. Martin Luther King, for example.
For me, one such phrase was seared into my brain (well, soul) about seven years ago.
The scene: Lake Geneva, WI. Sunny, warm summer day. My husband and I were snuggling on a golf cart with our four partially towel dried, swim-diapered children laughing at something one of them said or did. Easy, fun, quintessential “summer” moment. An older woman with whom we occasionally exchanged pleasantries walked by our cart. We had the usual brief, surface-level conversation. This time, right before she walked away, she looked me square in the eye and pointedly said, “it doesn’t just happen,” winked and walked away.
Whoa. Hot eyeballs. Dry throat. Tiny pre-cry convulsion.
“It doesn’t just happen.”
Why the emotion surge? It wasn’t new to have our sideshow acknowledged by near-strangers. Having four kids ages 4 and under made us a bit of a spectacle wherever we went. “Oh, you’re busy” and “I bet you’re tired” and “are any of them twins?” were all a part of our daily experience. Most comments were a mixture of “they are so cute” and “wow, that must suck” and both statements were accurate some of the time. In general, I knew people were just trying to be nice so I’d cop to being fatigued, smile and finish getting my groceries or whatever.
“It doesn't just happen.”
I felt that phrase down to my core. In that moment, I felt completely seen. As though her older-mama soul was staring right into my younger-mama soul. In that one phrase, I felt like she knew this fun, carefree moment was only possible because I was militant in my resolve to have well-rested children, even if it meant a 4:30 dinner. She acknowledged the assembly line-style sunscreen application that may have been easier to administer to a group of squirrels. She validated cutting up every edible item into non-choke sized pieces and scrubbing each sippy stopper clean. She saw me packing and repacking and making sure the most critical toys and beloved pacifiers were included in our piles of bags. She saw me trying to breast feed my youngest while reading a book to the other three so we would have a clear two hours at the beach. She saw in one look, one four-word phrase, the day after day, moment by moment work that got us to that golf cart on one sunny day in Lake Geneva. With one phrase she validated each of the things we all do as parents while we simultaneously wonder if any of it really matters in the end.
“It doesn’t just happen.” She was totally right. It doesn't.
My kids are in the soccer/basketball/dance/cute performance stage now, but I still think of that phrase all the time. It’s shifted from being a validating phrase to being a motivating phrase. When I’m wondering if kale smoothies, workouts, conversations with my kids at bedtime when I’m ready to watch Vanderpump Rules, or intentionally touching my husband when he walks in the door after work are doing anything, I remind myself that “it doesn’t just happen.”
It's a reminder that the stuff we do day in and day out contribute heavily to the happiness and fulfillment we desire in our overall lives. It is the often tedious choices we're making in the moment (when we could easily blow them off) that make the difference. The life we want is not something that’s going to suddenly appear in a couple months while we wait it out on the couch. Every day is a new grab bag of choices that move us in the direction of the things we want and value (gently, of course).
Sometimes I wonder if that woman has any idea her words have been rattling around in my head for all these years. My guess is no. For some reason her not knowing makes it even cooler to me. It’s a beautiful example of how much our lives are constantly affecting the lives around us, even when we just feel like we’re going to Trader Joe’s or work or talking to some random person on the street. We never know if we’re saying something or doing something that is going to affect someone else for the rest of their lives. That's cool.
Thank you Lake Geneva woman!
Keely