Where The Good Comes From

The Philadelphia Phillies were on TV the other night, providing steady background noise while I put together a slide deck for my boss. He hadn’t asked for it, but I knew he had an important meeting with a client the next day. I knew our team would come up in the conversation and the extra prep would give him an edge.

When I handed it to him the next morning, he was surprised—and deeply grateful. He thanked me for going out of my way.

A few days later, a coworker called to thank me for a note of encouragement that I’d dropped in the mail, telling me it arrived at the exact moment he needed a lift.

In both situations, the instinct to act wasn’t really mine—it was my mom’s.

* * *

If I have a strong work ethic, it’s because as a kid I watched my mom (and my dad too) model it every day. The sun would barely be peeking through the horizon and she would be leaving the house for work. I’d run to the kitchen to give her a hug and she’d have the dishes washed, clothes from the laundry folded, and my school lunch made. She had her own things to do, but she still somehow kept our family on the straight and narrow.

It’s been years, but her work ethic stays vivid in my memory.

But it goes deeper.

If I’m perceptive about other people’s needs, or understand the power of a simple note of encouragement, it’s because I learned it from her. She wasn’t one to send cards or letters, but if she saw you in the IGA parking lot or the post office, or bank she was going to ask you about the surgery you had three months ago. She’d be sure to inquire about a grandparent or another loved one and how they were doing. She remembered the little things that others passed over or forgot. She had empathy. She put others first.

* * *

My mother celebrated another birthday this month. I can’t help but trace the best parts of who I am directly back to her. If there’s any good in me, it’s from my mom.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Images by Pexels.