What The Hat Lady Taught me About Confidence

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

I wanted to share something that I wrote. And I included it in my book for so many different reasons, but mainly because when I was writing my book, I knew that there were so many incredible individuals that have impacted my life in such deep and meaningful ways. That there is no way that I cannot allow anyone to not know them because their legacy is incredible. The individuals that I talk about in my book are people that stood for what they believed, people who were compassionate, loving, and caring, and believed in making an impact in the world. And some of the people that I talk about in my book are still alive, but I'm sharing also the stories of those who have gone and who created a difference for me. And their legacy lives on. And for that reason, I want to share their stories. And perhaps this gives you a little glimpse into who I am. So today I want to share the story of someone that I love. It's going to be eight years since she passed. But every single day, there's lessons that I hear, lessons that I embrace. So without further ado, let's talk about Mrs. A. From the first moment I met her, her joy for life, sunny outlook, and love for others endeared myself in my heart. When you looked at her, you couldn't think but of being epitome of confidence. Mrs. A, or the hat lady, as many like to call her, was my ex-husband's mom. It has been a few years since she left this world, but the life lessons learned from her will live with me forever. When I first met the hat lady at her home, I don't recall where we were headed. All I remember is that I was wearing a short denim mini skirt and a vest to match. I also recalled that I devaded the appropriate outfit to wear. At the time, I was incredibly nervous. For the last time I had met a boyfriend's mom, things had not turned out well. Long story short, my first boyfriend's mom seemed to like me only to find out that she was appalled by the idea of her son dating a Hispanic girl. I was also told that a Jewish mom was more problematic to please. I allowed others' inputs to shape my thoughts, which led to generalization, more stress, and an overwhelmed spirit. For this reason, the prospect of meeting the Had Lady terrified me. As I pulled up into a meticulously manicured lawn, I noted how the house was not the largest or fanciest in the block. I was, however, taken by how impeccably it was kept. I soon learned the same order extended to the inside of the home. I was fascinated by the large white sofa that immediately greeted me upon entering. My first thought was, oh, this is one of those homes where you don't sit on the fancy furniture. How wrong was I? Like the owner, the sofa was elegant yet comfortable. Comfortable to sit on. It was inviting and timeless. It had room for many. And it gave a great first impression. When I first met the hat lady, I was immediately drawn to her. She was a hugger. I remember her tiny, frail yet strong embrace to this day. The day she came into my life, I had just turned 25. The last time we spoke was a few months before she passed. I was 46 and had been divorced from her son for almost six years. Throughout the time I knew her, the lessons of confidence I gained from her are too many to fit in one chapter. No matter the occasion, she would always be found wearing the perfect outfit to be from head to toe. She also had a collection of thrift store and dollar store accessories. She loved a good bargain and was never afraid to tell you how much of a deal she found. She not only loved wearing hats, but also took pride in always wearing them with the right ensemble and dutifully eccentric glasses. But my hat lady was more than just a perfectly matched wardrobe person. Inside was an educator, a volunteer, mother and wife, and a generous heart. A generous, kind heart. Hard work and sound investments in her life afforded her a life solely dedicated to comfort, but a life in which each day she contributed to people around her. There was one time we were out during the holiday season, and an employee at a store chirped up and wished her Merry Christmas. She returned the greeting, and as I watched, she proceeded to have a conversation with the woman. And I remember during the conversation, the woman talking about her family, her children, and how she was working overtime so her family could have a good Christmas. At the end of the conversation, I noticed her slip the woman some money and told her, Merry Christmas. I don't know how much money it was, but I did come to realize that this would be the first of many times that I would see her give to another person that she had only known for a fleeting moment. This imparted a lesson of generosity to 20-something me. Another lesson came from that first interaction as well. When we left the store, I asked her how she felt about people wishing her Merry Christmas. It must be upsetting when people just assume you're Christian. Is there a reason you didn't correct her? I asked. She looked at me, removed her sunglasses, and said, Julie, wishing me Merry Christmas is just her wishing me well in joy of the season. In reflection, this was a lesson of acceptance. Wishing someone well, no matter how it came, was an act of kindness. And the hat lady responded in a way that multiplied that kindness rather than snuffing it out with correcting her. Like many Jewish people, she experienced the share of prejudice that comes with being a Jew. This didn't make her bitter. On the contrary, she resolved to fight for those who didn't have a voice. She did so. She knew that her education and hard work had afforded her the privileges and opportunities that others didn't have. She didn't gain her confidence from the lack of fear, but despite the fear, her beliefs and convictions outweighed her fears and doubts. I know that many of us love to live in the comfort of our realities. Many of us expect that the time of fighting for what is right up to someone else who is more intelligent, more courageous, or well spoken. However, taking a leap of faith to speak up, advocate, fight for social justice like the Hat Lady did is something that we can all do. Big gestures and service are important, but the mundane, perhaps inconsequential things that have most impact. The Hat Lady understood that giving to others in their time of need was the right thing to do, that brightening someone else's day was often the brightest part of that person's day, and that speaking up for those who lived in fear of doing it themselves was key. She thrust herself into discomfort for what she believed and consistently believed in. This sometimes made her the object of rude opinions and others, and even disappointing from the others she loved. In learning confidence from her, I realized that you must ask, why not me? Asking these questions allows you to find the courage and bright side of the circumstances. The important thing is that you consistently step out to do what your heart tells you is correct and what you know you must do.