I can’t stop thinking a quote I read in Substack Notes a little over a week ago.
wrote:“Repromote older posts
Repromote older books
Repromote older art
Keep resharing older work!
We need to move away from this constant pressure to produce something new. This shift from creating art to content creation is neither healthy nor sustainable. We are not machines!”
I read the passage five times. And with every pass, I relaxed deeper and deeper into an exhale that felt five years overdue. In response, I wrote a statement of agreement, which became a reminder.
“My older works are worthy of second chances, too.”
When I was a volunteer at a local cat shelter years ago, there was this senior cat that I felt sure needed a second chance.
Rosie had been there far too long and was becoming despondent and depressed. It was rare for me to do so, but in an act of desperation, I posted a photo of her on my Instagram account. My caption read:
“There’s this eight-year-old cat at the shelter. Her name is Rosie. She loves to be brushed and is gentle and kind. Each time someone looks through the glass window while I’m cleaning, I stop what I’m doing and ask if they are interested in adopting. I hold my breath, hoping one of them will point to the orange cat lovingly worn like your favorite childhood teddy bear.
“Not today,” I hear too many times.
I’m so sorry, Rosie. I won’t give up. Your person is out there. I believe you still have the best part of your life left to live.”
A few days after my post, I received a direct message from a woman named Suzanna who was interested in adopting Rosie. She said it was my worn teddy bear description that drew her in… because she, too, felt worn.
On August 10, 2018, Suzanna made a substantial drive with her two boys to adopt Rosie. Soon after, I received remarkable photos of Rosie in her new home. In just a matter of days, Rosie’s face had transformed. No longer did her eyes squint with sadness and despair; they were wide open, like the heart of the family that had taken her in.
When Suzanna and I connected by phone a few days later, I was offered a story that I would never forget.
August 10th was the anniversary of Suzanna’s great-grandmother’s birthday. In honor of what would have been the 100th birthday of the woman who raised her, Suzanna followed the nudge on her heart to meet Rosie. But as they pulled into the shelter parking lot, the magnitude of taking on another life hit Suzanna, and she became worried.
Noticing his mother’s angst, Suzanna’s perceptive son confidently said, “But remember, you have to walk down the hill, Mama.”
Suzanna’s great-grandmother used to walk down a steep hill each day to get her mail, dragging her oxygen tank behind her. When concerned friends and family would ask why she took such a risk, Great-Grandmama said:
“Because I would miss all the beautiful things.”
Great grandmama would then name a list of specific beauties she passed on her way down the hill that very day.
When Rosie (renamed Apple) passed away on December 26, 2023, Suzanna reached out to me to let me know. She thanked me for the years they had gotten to love her. Suzanna described their touching goodbye and hoped one day she would be ready to adopt again.
That momentous day came on March 16. You might remember from a previous essay that I invited myself to the kitten selection party at the cat shelter. What I didn’t tell you was that it was Suzanna’s actual birthday – and her exact words to me were: “I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate my birthday than adopting a cat from the rescue that had given us Rosie.”
Before I knew what was happening, I started crying. Being the kind-hearted person that she is, Suzanna acted like my emotional display was the most normal thing in the world. She gave me a strong hug, which made me cry harder.
At the time, I had no idea why I was moved so deeply. But looking back now, I realized I’d been trying to be strong for my 20-year-old daughter, Natalie, whose beloved college of two years was expected to announce they were closing their doors after 119+ years. The place and people that had become Natalie’s home would be no more, and she would be displaced.
Being in the presence of Suzanna, who’d come to adopt one kitten (but ended up adopting two because they were a bonded pair), gave me indescribable hope. My tears indicated there was something more to this connection that I needed to investigate further.
Upon returning home from the shelter, I looked back through all our correspondences about Rosie/Apple and came across a poem I’d written after hearing Great-Grandmama’s hill philosophy. I immediately printed the poem out and set it next to the sofa where I have my calls with Natalie. The poem captured the energy I wanted to offer my daughter as she works through this difficult transition period.
Before I share the poem with you, I want to point something out:
This poem is five years old. Some might say it is “used” or had its day – but I say it’s worthy of a second chance. I’d even go as far as to say that given the trials I know many of you are currently facing, it is even more valuable now than it was five years ago.
It sure is to me.
We all have a hill.
And today, our hill might seem especially steep and scary,
but we are not too worn to walk down;
we have not come this far to stop now.
We must walk down the hill to see the beauty life has to offer,
even when we are afraid,
especially when we are afraid.
Because the one, little beautiful thing that we spot is what will keep us going,
even we are tired,
especially when we are tired.
Walk down the hill.
Take baby steps if you must.
Believe, like Rosie, that the best part of life is still up ahead.
-Rachel Macy Stafford
COME AS YOU ARE: Please join me on Thursday, April 18th in Rachel’s Treehouse to talk more about this concept of gaining value with age, as well as the beauty of second chances. Below is the Zoom link to join. If you are a free subscriber and would like to experience our beautiful restorative monthly gatherings + have access to my most personal essays, please subscribe here.
In the coming weeks, I will be sharing the coping strategy Natalie has been using to cultivate inner peace during a time of great uncertainty. Her example is helping me heal my inner child. Natalie has given me permission to share, but it will behind the paywall for privacy reasons.
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