A Crisis Can Be a Holy Beginning
— Sue Monk Kidd, When the Heart Waits
That has been truer than true in my life, and if the pattern holds, I suspect it will continue until God takes me home. In this fourth quarter of my game of life, I am pondering more than ever before, seeking glimpses of holy stops and starts, and trying to figure out my new beginnings each day.
I know that if we let them, a crisis can open our minds and our hearts. They show us the way of NOT, so hopefully we can find our way. If we don’t know that we are lost, we will not seek “foundness.” I am not sure if that is a word, but it has been true in my life, so I will cling to it. Foundness. Because there is peace in being found. But it all started with being lost, right there in the middle of the crisis.
Sometimes a good ole fire-alarm crisis will spin us around and point us in a new direction. And if our hearts are open, the right people will show up to help us. For as long as I can remember, that phrase has been one of my affirmations and mantras, and it remains so to this day.
“All the right people always show up to help me.”
When my starter husband left, there was no provision other than my poverty-level pay as a teacher. We were many times without water, without power, and certainly without reliable transportation. A $500 hoopty was little more than a gamble at best each day when I cranked it up, not to mention the ability to put gas in the car, which was many times fueled by loose change at best. I was in the middle of a full-blown crisis.
I had to find a way, so I tried many ways. Tutoring, pushing jet skis into the water, giving parasail rides, waiting tables, and slinging Mary Kay out of the back of that $500 hoopty. All of them provided some money, but more than that, they were showing me hope. And more than that, they were attracting people to me. People love to see people going for it, trying to overcome. I believe the natural tendency in humans is to help someone push their cart up the hill, and that is what happened in my life.
As I pushed through the crisis, each way led to another way and to another kind human cheering me on. Mary Kay was a great stepping stone to where I am today. I was surrounded by like-minded people who were adhering to the notion that Zig Ziglar and Mary Kay led by, and that was, “If you help enough people get what they want, you can have anything you want.” So I just kept encouraging and helping people, and that, in turn, helped me. Before I knew it, that crisis had turned me around.
It turned me around enough to have a paid-for car from Mary Kay. One that cranked each time I got in it and one where I did not have to break down with three littles in tow, walking down Back Beach Road. The more excited I got about selling the Mary Kay product and the dream, the more excited others got. It was my way out. It was my turning-around point. I was even able to speak at a few conventions, making true my dream as a six-year-old in the bathtub, adorned with Prell shampoo, speaking and teaching to my tub animals.
Mary Kay taught me so many things that I still cling to this day. I know that I would much rather live my life in a spirit of cooperation than competition, and I still do to this day when I call someone and say, “Do you have a minute?” I learned the value of heads-down hard work, but with a heart wide open.
Even though it set me in the right direction, I knew after a time that this was not my calling, but rather a step along the way to my calling. I took those same learned skills, attitudes, and gifts and applied them to real estate, and once again, people followed me because of my enthusiasm and excitement about my quest. I truly did not know the way yet, but I had the spirit of the way, and others followed.
Now today, I am taking that crisis and remembering that with every disadvantage, there is an advantage in there somewhere. It is my job to focus on that advantage. And yes, people are still showing up to help me in the best possible way. I guess as long as I live, there will be other crises and other needs to use the crisis to find a new and better way.
Maybe that is the holy beginning hidden inside the hard thing. Maybe the crisis is not the end of the story at all, but the fire alarm waking us up, turning us around, and pointing us toward the people, the purpose, and the foundness we never would have discovered had we not first been lost.
Grateful,
Karen Key Smith
