The Unexpected Gift

In early 2020, the world seemed to change overnight.

When COVID-19 began spreading across the globe, businesses struggled to stay open. My company was no exception. To survive the sudden disruption, they made the difficult decision to furlough a large number of their employees. I was one of them.

For the next three months, I found myself navigating the uncertainty that many people faced during that time, wondering what would happen next and hoping things would stabilize soon.

Like many others, I tried to stay positive. Some days that came easily. Other days required a little more effort.

One afternoon I posted a picture of a lotus flower on Facebook with a short message: "Thinking positively..." It was simply a quiet reminder to myself to keep perspective during a difficult moment.

About a week later, a package arrived in the mail.

Inside was a book titled No Mud, No Lotus by Thich Nhat Hanh. Terry’s cousin, our beloved Gerrie, had seen my post, understood what I might be going through, and decided to send the book.

It was a small gesture, but one that meant a great deal.

The title itself carries a powerful truth. The lotus flower, admired for its beauty and serenity, can only grow in thick mud. Without the mud, there is no lotus.

Thich Nhat Hanh uses this image to explain a profound idea: suffering and happiness are not separate experiences. In many ways, they depend on one another. The challenges we face in life can become the very conditions that allow understanding, resilience, and compassion to grow.

Throughout the book, he encourages readers not to push away difficult emotions such as fear, sadness, or uncertainty. Instead, he invites us to recognize them with mindfulness and kindness. When we learn to acknowledge suffering rather than resist it, we begin to transform it.

Reading the book during those uncertain months gave me a different way to look at what was happening in my life. The furlough no longer felt like only a setback. Instead, it became part of the natural rhythm of life. A period of difficulty that could also contain opportunities for reflection and growth.

The lessons in No Mud, No Lotus are simple but lasting. The book reminds us that hardship is a universal part of the human experience. Yet within those moments, there is always the possibility of patience, understanding, and renewal.

Looking back now, what stays with me most is not only the wisdom in the book, but also the kindness behind how it arrived.

Someone noticed.

Someone paid attention.

Someone cared enough to send a small gift of encouragement at exactly the right moment.

In a time when the world felt uncertain, that simple act carried a quiet but powerful message: we do not face difficult seasons alone.

And perhaps that is another kind of lotus.

Sometimes the most beautiful things grow quietly out of the mud.

I have been reaching for this book many times in the past many months since Gerrie's passing and then again since Terry's departure.

They are always the brightest lotuses of this world.