Teachers come to us in the most unlikely places, at some of the most unexpected times. The greatest teachers impart lessons that withstand time and may literally change our lives. Such was the case when Kelly, my father's hospice nurse, shared the Lesson of Five Balls with me, just days before my father passed away.

I was grilling Kelly to learn exactly WHEN my dad would pass. His death had been imminent, but I had already canceled or rescheduled so much work; I didn't want this to be a false alarm. Kelly candidly but gently advised that it would be just a couple of days. Then she looked straight into me and said:

"Rebecca, I'm going to share with you my philosophy of life. Each of us is given five balls. One is rubber and four are glass. The rubber ball is work. If you drop it, it will always bounce back. The other four glass balls are family, friends, health and integrity. If you drop them, they are shattered. They won't bounce back."

Ironically, I've received almost all of my greatest success from how I've managed my rubber ball. Women of Influence and Entrepreneur of the Year awards...all praise heaped for what I do during workdays. It's easy to begin to look for all of your esteem from the rubber ball.

Then something comes between you and that rubber ball. In my case, it was my dad's passing. When the rubber ball is taken out of play, what's left? How well do we manage our glass balls?

Eleanor Roosevelt said that women are like teabags; you never know how strong they are until they're in hot water. Hot water comes in many forms. A parent's death, a job layoff, loss of a client, or diagnosis of a life-changing disease. When teabags are met with hot water, they don't break. They have integrity. Rather than contracting, they expand to release their full flavor.

Hot water often happens to us; integrity is what we bring to the party. Integrity means keeping our work, acting in alignment with our deepest held principles, telling our truth, and doing our very best in each moment.

How strong is your teabag? How well are you managing your five balls?
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My father passed away on June 13, 2004 at the age of 77. I wisely let my rubber ball drop so that I could be with him during his last walk. My teabag is stronger because of the timeless lessons my dad – and his hospice team – taught me in the last chapter of his life.

 

 

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