Beech Tree News Network

In her book, The Cruelest Month, Louise Penny’s character, Ruth Zardo, becomes a surrogate mother for two hatchling ducks, Rosa and Lilium.  The townspeople watch as the eccentric woman walks around town quacking, while the two little ones follow closely on her heels.  They quickly notice that Lilium, the smaller of the two, has trouble keeping up.  Many times, Ruth and Rosa have to stop to let him catch up. 
    At a dinner party, Ruth tells her friends she was present when Lilium hatched.  She could hear him thrashing around inside the barely cracked shell, so she assisted by breaking the shell open and freeing the little duck.  One of the guests recognizes the reason for Lilium’s disability and tells Ruth she has inadvertently crippled the little duck by not letting him fight his own way out of the shell.  The struggle would have given Lilium the strength he needed to become a strong healthy adult.  Predictably, little Lilium dies and Ruth realizes it was her rush to rescue him that ultimately killed the little guy.
    My daughter, Natalie, has begun moving hers and her daughter, Sabria’s, things into her fiancé Scott’s house (the wedding is in September).  They fixed a wonderful room for Sabria, all pinks and purples with a canopy bed.  I brought over a DVD/VCR player to hook up to a TV in her room.  Sabria became fascinated with the vintage VCR player at my house, so I promised I would get one of the combo players for her room.
    I’m not the most tech-savvy of people, so I became frustrated when I couldn’t locate the right format on the TV in order to get the player to operate properly.  Natalie intervened.  “It’s ok, Mom,” she said, “Sabria doesn’t have to have the player.”
    “But I promised her,” I protested
    “She’s not going to die if she doesn’t get it,” Natalie said.  “Besides, it will be a treat to watch yours when she comes to your house.  You don’t have to fix everything for us.  We’ll make it.”
    She was right, of course.  When did my daughter become so wise? 
    I’m a fixer and a rescuer by nature.  I would have done just what Ruth Zardo did with Lilium.  I wonder how many people I’ve crippled with my good intentions.
    It has been just recently that I have begun to recognize the value in struggle, a mere three weekends ago, as a matter of fact.  I was helping a friend clean out her garage, because her husband refused to help her.  As we worked, he would occasionally wander in to give us directives, concerning the way we should or should not be doing a thing.  I defied one such directive and did a task my own way.  The guy got really miffed and fired off a snarky remark in my direction then stormed out the door.  His wife, my friend, apologized for his behavior.
    “He doesn’t bother me,” I laughed.  “I’ve worked with Greg Hampton for over twenty years.  Your husband is an amateur.”
    On the following Monday, I told Greg about the incident.  I also told him he had made me cry on a daily basis when we first opened Greggarey’s Market all those years ago.
    “I didn’t mean to,” he said.
    “I know,” I said.  And I did know.  Greg was just being Greg.  And it was Greg being Greg that made the remarks my friend’s husband made roll off me like water on a duck’s back.  That day in that garage, I silently thanked God for Greg Hampton and the opportunity to work with him for over twenty years. 
    Here’s why.  Greg does not sugar coat anything.  He calls it as he sees it.  He is a man of decision, and if you don’t speak up, you’re going to find yourself going down the path he has laid out.  Greg is not a bully, he just doesn’t baby-sit your emotions, so you’d better speak up for yourself.  If you are a person who sulks or pouts, you won’t last long in Greg Hampton’s universe.  I quickly learned not to take things he said personally, and that is one of the most valuable lessons of all.  (Hope I didn’t offend you with any of these observations, Greg, but if I did, you can just get over it.)
    I still hate to struggle, but recognizing struggle has value, makes it an easier pill to swallow.