We had planned a week in paradise, but when I looked at the forecast, it didn’t look like paradise. It looked like cloud cover and drizzle. And that, frankly, was unacceptable.
Oceanside sunshine makes my wife happy—happier than pretty much everything except her children—and happiness is what I was determined to give her for our anniversary. So, when I saw the forecast, I started scheming.
The flight was non-refundable, but the hotel could be canceled without penalty. So, we’d fly to our destination, then I’d book another flight to an island that was supposed to be sunny, find us lodging on that island, and book a return flight to our original island so we could fly home from there. It would be way too expensive and a huge hassle, but hey, that’s the cost of making your people happy. Right?
That’s been a very disconcerting lesson to learn. After all, aren’t we supposed to want others to be happy? Aren’t we supposed to live in service to other people? Aren’t we supposed to leave the world a better place than we found it?
The issue, of course, is that word: better.
What does “better” mean, exactly? And why did I decide that making my people happy is what better means? Well, the honest answer is that making my people happy means making them happy with me, which makes me feel loved and safe and like everything is going to be okay. So, it’s not really love. It’s survival. It’s my sweet but sneaky strategy for regulating my own nervous system.
When I told my wife how I was planning to make her happy, she told me she’d prefer my full attention over my distracting solutions. Presence over plans. Rain or shine. It seemed too simple, until I remembered what really makes most of us happy: a sense of safety.
Safety over sunshine, every time.
I’d learned that lesson by the time our family vacated to Mexico for Covid Christmas #2. Instead of trying to make everyone happy, I simply resolved to keep my heart open, no matter what happened, because openhearted people make everything feel safer.
Right after returning from the trip, my wife encouraged me to tell our kids about the openheartedness I’d been practicing for a year. When I finished, my daughter got really quiet for a moment, and then said, “That must be why every time something went wrong on the way to Mexico, I looked at you and felt calm.”
My open heart helped her feel safe. Mission accomplished.
We’re heading to Hawaii again. I swear we don’t do this as much as it seems. When our kids graduate from high school, their gift is a family vacation of their choosing. Our son chose Hawaii. So we cashed in all our points, and here we go.
This time around, though, I’m not checking the forecast, I’m checking my heart.
I’m not going to try to make my family happy, I’m going to help them feel safe.
Rain or shine, it’s the most loving thing any of us can do.
Does the shift from “happy” to “safe” resonate with you? Bother you? Inspire you? Let us know in the comments—and feel free to leave any other reactions as well!
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