The Softest Parts of Ourselves Don’t Need Erased
a stranger's question lifted a long-held shame and freed me to trust my heart again
“Come on in,” the gray-haired gentleman waved from the middle seat of aisle 10 on my flight headed home from Salt Lake City. I looked to the elderly woman seated next to him, hoping to get some clarity on the situation.
“He has bad legs and can’t stand so good,” she quickly explained. “Would you be so kind to just slide by?”
I took a deep breath and awkwardly squeezed past to get to my window seat.
“You just saved me a whole lotta trouble,” the man said, smiling warmly. “How’s your day going?”
I knew right then and there my hopes of sticking my iPods in my ears and chilling out would have to wait. I’d just led a multi-day workshop and desperately needed to restore my internal battery.
Within a few minutes of conversation, we discovered the couple lived in the city where my family and I used to live. Amazingly, the man had even had a hand in building the homes in the neighborhood where I’d raised my daughters. Now he was a grandpa of ten, a retired builder, with a hobby of painting on canvas with acrylics.
I learned this as the plane filled with passengers.
Just as the man’s wife was about to show me his latest works of art captured on her phone, our chat was interrupted.
“You’re in my seat,” a man in a business suit curtly informed the woman. “I am in 10D.”
She explained they’d been moved to this row at the last minute because of her husband’s leg condition. As she tried to pull up proof on her phone, the man grew increasingly agitated.
And then something happened that I did not expect.
“If we have to move,” said the white-haired gentleman beside me, “will you move with us?”
I froze.
One part of me stiffened and screamed, BOUNDARIES, Rachel! Surely you’re not going to do that??
Another part of me softened and whispered, CONNECTION, Rachel. Thank you for listening to this man. Clearly, you’ve made a difference.
What eventually came out of my mouth was a direct result of difficult introspective work and somatic therapy. I have worked hard to preserve the empath in me while learning to set healthy boundaries so I can live whole, protected, and fulfilled.
“This is my seat,” I said to him gently. “So I’ll need to stay here, but maybe it’ll work out that we can stay together.”
“I sure hope so,” the man said wistfully. “You just don’t meet people like you every day.”
It turned out the couple got to remain where they were. The business traveler realized his seat was one row back, so he offered to swap with the woman. I did get my rest because the friendly gentleman fell asleep as soon as he was covered in a blanket and slept the entire flight.
As we began our descent, his wife gently roused him.
“Time to wake up, honey,” she whispered. “It’s time for your medication.”
Once he was alert, I asked if they were going to make the late-night drive home, which I knew was about three hours from the airport.
“We are going to stay at a hotel tonight,” the man explained. “But we gotta leave first thing. It’s time for me to start cancer treatments. My doctor found three spots on my liver last month, but he let us take our anniversary cruise to Alaska.”
I told him how sorry I was to hear this news.
“No matter what happens,” he said cheerfully, “I’m just glad I met you.”
“I’m glad I met you too,” I said, feeling tears come to the surface.
Something in this man’s tenderness cracked open a place in me I’d been working hard to heal.
See, the thing is, when you do therapy to work on your patterns, and you start to see all the times you didn’t protect yourself, you can feel a deep ache.
You look back and label those moments—
the times you didn’t speak up for yourself,
the times you let people take advantage of you,
the times you ignored your body’s warning signs—
as moments you abandoned yourself.
When you stop fawning behaviors, you suddenly remember all the times you said yes when you wanted to say no, sometimes at the cost of your own well-being. And it’s easy to feel shame. But those were survival strategies, earnest attempts to feel safe and accepted, until you discovered that worthiness was never something you had to earn.
But in this exchange with the elderly man beside me, some of that old shame lifted. I saw my willingness to be open, trusting, and overly kind to people not as gullible or naïve, but as a soft strength worth safeguarding.
And given we are living in a time when helping our neighbors has never mattered more, the timing of that release felt perfect.
Instantly, I felt grateful for my seat in 10F…
where I was reminded that boundaries and compassion can sit side by side,
where my limits could be honored without my losing heart,
where I could rest and still care deeply,
where I could give yet also receive.
I realized then that I never want my boundaries to be so tall or so hard that they keep me from reaching – or being reached.
The world is aching for human connection right now. And I’m learning that I possess qualities that help people feel safe in my presence.
The stranger on the plane reminded me:
We were never meant to navigate life alone.
We were meant to keep reaching—
even when it scares us,
even when we’re weary,
even when it would be easier to close off.
So, I’ll keep practicing this balance:
protecting my peace while staying open to connection,
making room for grace in the middle seat,
and trusting that what’s meant to meet me will find a way through.
Because now I know,
my heart won’t lead me astray.
My hand in yours,
Rachel
📝 Ponder Prompts:
1. Describe a moment when your softness felt like strength.
2. What small choice recently reminded you that you don’t have to abandon yourself to be kind?
3. Let’s create a Hope Scroll in the comments:
Has there been a moment when someone or something reached you (or you reached someone else)? Describe it. These uplifting stories you share keep me going.
📅 Mark Your Calendar for our special November Treehouse Gathering!
Topic: HOLIDAY BOUNDARIES FOR BEGINNERS
When: Friday, November 21 at 2pm Eastern
(with next-day replay)
As we head into the holiday season, it feels like the right moment to talk honestly about needs and boundaries – and how to honor both without losing ourselves. Coming fresh off my first Only Love Today Restorative Retreat for Givers, where so many breakthroughs were made around prioritizing your own wellbeing, I feel inspired to share ways we can keep ourselves inside our circle of care this year.
Together, we’ll explore how to release the idealized version of the holidays and create room for what is real, humane, and nourishing.
✨Please save the date. I’d love for you to join me!
💌 Zoom link and gathering details will be sent to paid subscribers next Thursday. Enjoy the full Treehouse community experience for $5 a month.
I was once told by a perfect stranger in passing, "To give a smile, a listening ear, and your eyes, only costs a little of your time." That has been so true throughout my life. When I was teaching, reading "The Power of our Words" by Paula Denton each year. We never know who we have touched by a simple smile, a hello, or a hug. As I have basked in retirement I am reminded through phone calls from grown students that it all matters. One student calls once a year to say "Thank you and I love you for taking care of me and my uniqueness." Each time I cry because I then realized that words really do matter. Thank you for sharing.
Something I talk about with my therapy clients is that there is a difference between boundaries and enemy lines. Boundaries protect and are changeable when you decide, enemy lines cut off and are destructive. I love your perspective as always!