I’m amazed how the memory of some folks stays with us. It’s been well over a decade since I’ve seen “Mary” who worked with us for about 18 months at our Connecticut country inn. But oh, do I remember her! To say that she had a presence is an understatement. Standing at about 4’10” and weighing less than 100 pounds, her spirit defied her size. She arrived to “interview” with me wearing a lovely summer dress and a gorgeous, lightweight sweater handmade by her European aunt. As we talked, connected and talked some more, I learned that Mary was a naturalized American citizen with a middle school-aged daughter, a husband who worked on a farm and a past that included exposure to the arts and competence in at least three languages. Why she was sitting before me in search of a housekeeping role at the peak of our busy season was not my business.   

I immediately took a liking to Mary, and I think the feeling was mutual. Keeping housekeeping staff was always a challenge. People found higher paying jobs, moved away or, occasionally, simply stopped showing up. My gut told me to give Mary a chance, despite the seeming disconnect between who she was and the work I needed her to perform.

My gut proved worthy of my trust as Mary arrived the very next morning in a tee shirt, capris and tied back hair – very much ready to get her hands dirty. Zip, zip like a bumble bee, she moved from task to task with her nimble hands. As the days passed and Mary gained quick competency, I found myself looking forward to seeing her, to chatting – even briefly – as I worked my writing job upstairs in our private quarters. Having developed employees in corporate settings for nearly three decades, I observed that Mary was indeed the rarest of the rare: competent, proactive and as flexible as they come. In innkeeping, things change constantly:  a group of four expands to eight, cancellations are filled by new bookings, a pipe bursts in the main parlor, a squirrel appears in the kitchen or a guest refuses to leave well beyond checkout time. The ripple effect is hard to describe unless you’ve been there. But Mary, with a wealth of life experience, the emotional maturity of a wise old soul and the work ethic of a true leader, could pivot on a dime. If only she could be cloned!

There is another quality that Mary possessed that is more difficult to describe. It’s one I think was innate to her, one she brought to everything she touched. I’ll call it “finesse.” Whether she was plating for breakfast, fluffing the pillows or even, yes even, folding the laundry, it was as if she was preparing for a photoshoot. Of course, not everyone has this ability, aesthetic or “eye.” In my experience, it is indeed rare! But here’s the thing: this particular ability to finesse isn’t really the point. It’s Mary’s willingness to bring the very best of her gift, of what she had to contribute, to her housekeeping role.

It makes me wonder how many people bring their special talent, their superpower, their defining gift to what they do and how they live. 

Do I? 

Do you?

One day, Mary arrived at the inn and shared some hard news: both of her parents, afflicted with Alzheimer’s, were now living with her. She was to be their caregiver and would have to phase out her hours until I could find someone else. I would find someone else, but I would never find another Mary, and I knew that. 

I will never forget Mary. I often wonder how things worked out, and I will always appreciate the gift of her gift as I continue to pray for her.