I’ve just come home after a most fabulous biking trip to Spain with my son Greg.  Had you asked me a couple of years ago if I thought this was in my future, I would most certainly have thought not.  I couldn’t imagine it.

We landed in Barcelona, and while our bodies adjusted to the new time, we toured the city on foot, taking in incredible sights as the Sagrada Familia, and the old gothic section of the city.  Two days later we were cycling our way through the island of Mallorca.  Apart from the incredible scenery and history we found ourselves surrounded by, the trip was made even more special because of the moments we had to talk, and connect.

Greg loves to think about life, as I do, so it was no wonder that one thing that stuck out for me was a recurring thread he wound into several conversations.

On the second day of cycling, Greg had planned a route taking us throughout the beautiful countryside outside Port de Pollenca.  Little lanes, most often bordered by stone walls, wound us past sheep, windmills, and old farmhouses.  We never knew what might be around the next corner, as it was impossible to see around the stone walls.  At one intersection, Greg commented that while the route he had planned pointed us one way, it was possible the other way would also take us back to where we were staying.  Then he said, ‘I don’t think though, that I’m going to argue with the well rested guy who made this map last night’.  We both laughed and continued.  We were about 45km into our trip and a wrong turn could have added tens of kilometres to our day.  He told me that when he used to compete in adventure races, one of the rules of his team was to sit together the night before the race and plan out their strategy, when they were clear headed, well nourished and rested.  Then during the race, they did not veer from their well thought out plan.  Making snap decisions when exhausted and hungry could cause less than ideal outcomes when navigating. 

Two days later, after an incredible bike ride to Cap de Formentor, we drove our car to the town of Soller, to explore the old town and to take a ride to Bunyola on an old wooden train.  Once again, Greg had carefully mapped out our route, this time using Google maps.  For some reason, Google was off her game as she was not aware of the construction blocking one of the streets we were to take.  In Canada, this would be of no consequence.  However, the ‘streets’ we were travelling were incredibly narrow often with only inches to spare on either side of the car.   It felt miraculous every time we made it safely to the next corner.  When the map directed us to the area under construction there was no choice but to turn down an unknown lane, following the two cars ahead, and hoping one of them had some knowledge of the area.  Our hopes were dashed as the lanes became narrower and narrower.  The first car turned left, the only choice available, and the second car attempted to follow but had to stop when the first car discovered it was at a dead end.  We could not back up or turn around.  Greg got out to speak to driver number two, a man from Germany who spoke no English.  Speaking no German himself, Greg somehow communicated that if the man backed up toward the dried up river bed that was immediately in front of us, we could pull into his spot, he could drive back the way he came, and then we could repeat the procedure as could the first car.  Without exaggerating, this required an 18-point turn on each of our parts; inches forward, then inches back.  Needless to say, it was an adventure.  When we finally extricated ourselves from the dilemma we were in, Greg turned onto a lane where a few cars were parked.  He pulled in behind the cars, turned off the engine, suggested we walk to the train station saying, “Future Greg will know what to do in three hours once we’re back.’  We abandoned the car and thoroughly enjoyed our train trip and a beautiful lunch. 

Sure enough, future Greg did not disappoint.  As we left the city and chatted about our harrowing experience, Greg wondered if ten-year-ago Greg would have handled it as well.

So many of us have forgotten our unlimited ability to grow.  We grow easily when we are young, then we reach a place where we achieve enough to be satisfied.  While the feeling of satisfaction and competence is well earned, it seems a shame to assume growth no longer has an important place in our day-to-day lives.  ‘Three-hours-from-now’ us will look awfully similar to ‘present-moment-us’ if we stop daring, if we cease being bold, it we stop taking chances, and if we get too comfortable in our four walls of life.

Last May, a year ago, when Greg invited me to go on a cycling trip with him, my immediate response was yes.  Don’t jump to any conclusion here.  I did not say yes because I was brave.  I said yes because my son had asked me to spend time with him. I had no idea my yes involved Spain, learning some phrases in a different language, or tackling a challenging bike route.  In truth, I found it very difficult to permit myself to do something separately from Jim.  I have not done that before.  The only thing that kept me saying yes, learning a bit of Spanish, and getting back to a semblance of fitness after a two-month bout of pneumonia in the spring, was my long time promise to myself that if my kids want to spend time with me, my answer is yes.

I suppose somewhere inside of me I believed future me would know how to do it.

And she did.

Seeing our lives through this broader perspective, this perspective that who we are at this exact moment is not the limit of who we can become, is a gift.  It allows us to move forward with faith that we can trust ourselves to grow and be able to achieve new things.   It allows us to step into difficult circumstances with confidence that we will come out on the other side.  It keeps us interesting and engaged in life.  It allows us to reimagine our lives.

May you notice the opportunities in your life where your future self is inviting you to say yes, and when you notice them, may you be brave enough to say yes.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What is my future self encouraging me to say yes to today?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to say yes. 

Sometimes we wander through our days wondering if what we do really matters.  We do things that are so routine, we hardly give them a second’s thought.  Other times we do things that feel noticeable, important, noteworthy even.  We feel accomplished and fulfilled.  We bustle about, with great importance.  This week I’ve notice several things that have caused me to think about which things really are the important things.

I was standing in line at a coffee shop early one morning, waiting to be served.  The fact that I was there at all was remarkable to me.  I haven’t had a cup of coffee for at least four years, and before that I usually only had one cup of decaf first thing in the morning.  I’m wild, I know.  On that particular morning, I thought I’d treat Jim to a cup of coffee and I decided to get one for myself too.  As I stood waiting for my order to be filled, a very busy woman stepped up to the counter and put in her order.  She paid and stepped back to wait to receive her coffee.  My cups, one for me and one for Jim, decaf for me, half and half for him, were almost finished being filled.  Busy lady was using her hawk-like eyes to watch the server put her cup under the coffee maker spout.  The SECOND the drip had almost finished she stepped up to the counter, leaned over, and then came this, loudly, ‘Excuse me.  Can you pass that to me.  I’m late for an appointment and I really need to get going.’

WOW.  She was even more important than I’d imagined.  I have no idea what her appointment was.  I don’t think she was a cardiac surgeon, but I could be mistaken.  Her ponytail and leggings gave off more of a ‘going to the gym’ feeling.  But I could be wrong.  I hope I am.  I hope her urgency was important enough to excuse her treatment of the server, her tone, and her attitude.

I’m still speechless.

Later that day, I called Jim’s mom.  She’s a vibrant ninety-five-year-old.  She and I are quite close.  We talk a couple of times each week.  Sometimes our conversations are about books we’re reading, other times about what we’ve been doing, and many times about deeper things we think about.  I love these talks with her.  When I called late one afternoon this week she told me her friend, Nina (not her real name),  was near death.  They both live in the same Active Living Residence, both on the same floor, and they’ve become good friends since moving in there.  Recently, Nina has not been coming for meals regularly, and Jim’s mom knew her health had been failing.  The morning of our call Nina had not come for breakfast and one of the nurses told Jim’s mom that she was not doing well.  The nurse wondered if Jim’s mom might like to go see her.  The nurse said, ‘I think it would be good for Nina, and maybe good for you too.’

Jim’s mom didn’t have to be asked twice.  She stopped by Nina’s room and found her in a sleep-like state, taking rattling breaths.  She knew Nina had been napping and sleeping a lot in the past days, and the nurses told her that Nina had only been responsive some of the time. She was in the end stages of life.  Jim’s mom, no stranger to death, sat beside her and began to talk.  She told her she loved her, and then, recalling their earlier conversations about God, told her that God loved her too.  She thanked her for being such a good friend and she prayed with her.  Nina, who had responded to almost nothing for a couple of days and was receiving her only nourishment in the form of a sponge dipped in cranberry juice and placed in her mouth, reached out for Jim’s mom’s hand. She wanted to hug her, and she kissed her.   They sat for a while together and Jim’s mom returned to her room.

At lunch time, Jim’s mom asked the nurse how Nina was, fully expecting she had passed away.  The nurse said, ‘She’s better than she’s been in days!’

The following day I called Jim’s mom to see how things were.  She said she had run into Nina’s daughter in the hallway and had asked how her mom was.  The daughter said, ‘We’ve called my brother to come, but today mom’s entertaining us.  The nurses told us that you prayed with her, that it brought them all to tears, and now Mom seems better than she has in a very long time.  She’s asking for some food.’

This time I’m not so speechless.  Jim’s mom has this effect on people.  Her presence matters.  I’ve observed it, had it witnessed by others, and experienced it.

In the big picture, Jim’s mom didn’t spend much more time with Nina that morning than the busy lady spent ordering her coffee, and then ordering the staff around.  The result of each interaction though, couldn’t have been different. 

One took some of the life out of the room, the other filled the room with it. 

Every interaction we have matters.  It matters how we speak.  It matters how we treat one another.   It matters what message our bodies are giving off.  It matters that we keep our word.  It matters how we show up as friends.  It matters how we think of ourselves in comparison to others. It matters how we order coffee.

Jim’s mom has only known Nina for about three years.  They met when they lived on the same floor when she first moved into the care facility.  Eventually Nina was moved to the second floor, one that provided more care, and then last year, Jim’s mom moved there too when her needs increased.  They often sat at the same table at supper, and sometimes saw one another at the activities offered by the facility.   But this I know for sure.  Even if Jim’s mom had not known Nina, even if Nina had been a complete stranger, if Jim’s mom had found herself in the same room with her, under the same circumstances as she did this week, she would have shown the same love and compassion. 

We all have this capacity.  I think we’d all like to think we’d show the same compassion and love if placed in a similar situation.  Luckily, we likely won’t be called to do so this week. I hope we won’t.  But we might just get the chance to order coffee. And how we do that matters too.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How do I order my coffee?’

I’m going to be away for the next two weeks. I’m off on an adventure! I’ll get back to my blog once I’m home again.  Meanwhile enjoy your coffee.
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to order a great cup of coffee.