A beautiful gift. A beautiful gesture. From a beautiful soul

My new bracelet.

This past summer I wrote a post about losing a bracelet that I’ve worn for the past few years — the one engraved, “Beautiful Girl, You Can Do Hard Things.” 

I wrote about how that bracelet was a constant reminder of how I could — and can — do anything I set my mind to. I wrote about how I wore that bracelet when I flew as an flight attendant. I wrote about how I wore that bracelet on my first solo trip to Paris and Morocco. The truth is: that bracelet was pretty scratched and worn but how I loved it! I loved that it was a part of me. When I lost it at a farmer's market — when I realized it was gone for good — I was enveloped in sadness. That bracelet was not expensive but it was worth more than money could buy.

I tried to show grace through my sadness. I resigned myself to it being gone and my hope was that someone who needed to hear that message found the bracelet and is treasuring it like I did.

I thought about buying a new bracelet — one with the same message — but it didn’t feel right. The message was still pertinent but I struggled with gifting myself a new one. Instead, I purchased something completely different: a thread bracelet with three freshwater pearls. The pearls represent grit, grace and gratitude. I really like it and the message behind it. I put it on my right wrist along with another bangle. Sometimes I’ll add a bracelet to my left wrist as well but it feels, well, odd. My left wrist was my “Beautiful Girl, You Can Do Hard Things," wrist. It feels a little empty. It feels like a dull ache, when something you’ve had for so long goes away. A little off. My left wrist feels a little off.

Or it did … until recently. I met one of my closest friends for breakfast last week. We text almost daily and see each other when we can. This visit, like every other, was filled with exchanges about our lives interspersed with laughter. Lots of laughter. When it was time to leave (is it actually breakfast when it’s over three-plus hours and you’re now part of the lunchtime crowd?) she slid a tiny, plain brown paper bag across the table to me. 

“I’ve had this for awhile now and I want you to have it." 

I looked at her quizzically, asked what it was but, of course, she simply smiled and said: “You’ll have to open  it now." Wrapped up in pink tissue paper was a beautiful gold bracelet. “Beautiful Girl, You Can Do Hard Things” engraved on the inside!

My tears ran … tears of love … tears of gratitude. I had admitted losing the bracelet but I didn’t talk about it after I did. I accepted the loss, let go of the physical connection. But this incredible woman, she knew. Oh, how she knew! She knew because I’d spoken about it when I still had it. She knew because she’s travelled this new road — this journey as a widow — with me. She knew that flying solo after a longtime marriage meant adventures — soaring and pitfalls. Most of all, she knew because she’s watched me do hard things and cheered me on as I have.

I didn’t put the bracelet on immediately. I struggled with it. I had accepted the loss of my bracelet and attempted to move forward from the sentiment. I had to come to terms that I had another. 

I thought about that bracelet on my way home. I was excited to have it. I was overwhelmed with love by the thoughtfulness of my friend. But was the message still one I needed to carry with me? Do I still need to be reminded that I’m capable of doing hard things? 

I got home and slipped it on. It immediately felt right. It fit perfectly. And knowing the message on the inside immediately gave me a boost of confidence. The message, like the bracelet, fits.

The world is full of Beautiful Girls Who Can Do Hard Things … and we are two of them.