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Everybody Loves Betty: Courageous Acceptance, Holland, and a Life Lived Beloved

Last week, I reread the latest CaringBridge update from my friend Betty’s sister, Mary Jo. She closed with a simple line that has become a familiar refrain: Everybody loves Betty. Every time I see it, I pause; not out of surprise, but out of recognition. Those words capture something essential about how Betty Harris lives: with kindness, humor, curiosity, and a presence that makes others feel seen, heard, and valued.

When I asked Betty if I might write about how her life reflects so many of the themes at the heart of thriving in the third period of life, the subject of my book, she said yes. And in that moment, I knew what this piece needed to be: what Positive Psychology calls a gratitude letter, an offering written while someone is here to receive it, a way of naming the truth of a life still being lived.

This blog post is my gratitude letter to my friend Betty. She is, for me, what Tom Rath describes as a “Vital Friend.” I share this publicly because Betty, as she always has, models the way, a way we can all learn from.

Life’s Unplanned Landings: From Italy to Holland

More than thirty-five years ago, when Betty’s first son was born with complex medical needs and given a prognosis he has long outlived, someone sent her Emily Perl Kingsley’s essay Welcome to Holland. The essay describes expecting a long-planned trip to Italy but landing instead in Holland, naming the disorientation of arriving somewhere you never intended to go, and still discovering beauty, meaning, and love.

Six years later, when my niece was born, and my brother and his wife were facing their daughter’s early medical challenges, Betty sent the same poem to me, an offering from someone who understood how disorienting those early days can be.

This is the way Betty approaches life: she metabolizes difficulty into wisdom and shares it generously, without fanfare. “Holland,” a place we never planned to land but eventually learn to cherish, became part of our shared vocabulary. A reminder that even in the life we didn’t expect, there are windmills, tulips, and a recurring rhythm of grace.

Betty has returned to Holland more than once. And each time, she builds something beautiful there. And on my own detours, she has been right beside me as I learned to adapt.

Courageous Acceptance, Not Resignation

Over the past fourteen months, as Betty has navigated stage IV cancer, I’ve seen the same qualities that shaped her earlier responses to life’s challenges: clarity, steadiness, humor, and a refusal to be defined by circumstances she did not choose. She faces reality without flinching, but also without surrendering the meaning, agency, and hope that Viktor Frankl described as the irreducible freedom of the human spirit.

She chooses how she will proceed. She cannot always change the circumstances, but she retains complete autonomy over how she responds.

When a recent hospitalization prompted difficult decisions, Betty chose to focus her time and energy on the people she loves most rather than ongoing treatment. It is not giving up. It is choosing with intention. As I reminded her recently, she gets to define the terms of her own story. In fact, I told her, you are the Boss—be the Boss. And if anyone has questions, direct them to me. She smiled an unmistakable Betty smile, blending humor, clarity, and acceptance all at once.

For years, Betty and I have had a recurring debate about who “models the way” for whom. I’d insist she was my example; she’d insist it was me. Recently, we agreed to call it even. (Although I did buy her a mug that says “best person ever,” and since she’s the one holding it, I consider the case closed.)

Hope in Action: Pathways, Agency, Humor

Hope theory describes hope not as simple optimism but as a dynamic process involving:

  • Goals
  • Pathways (finding ways forward)
  • Agency (believing we can act meaningfully)

Across her life, Betty has embodied hope in motion. She is endlessly resourceful, thoughtful, creative, and practical. She finds pathways where others see walls. She makes daily choices, small, human, ordinary choices, that affirm her agency even in difficulty. And she brings humor into almost every space she enters, not as a distraction but as a way of making room to breathe.

Hope is not the absence of pain. It is the courage to keep imagining good. Betty has done this for decades.

Relationships, Generativity, and Legacy Already in Motion

If you examine a life through the lens of generativity, how one invests in others, Betty’s legacy is already visible and abundant.

She is a devoted mother, partner, sister, colleague, mentor, and friend. Her pattern has always been to show up: in the moments of celebration and in the moments when life is stubbornly difficult. She has a gift for knowing what uniquely matters to each person, a quality that has strengthened every workplace, friendship, and community she has touched.

It has strengthened me time and time again.

Her legacy lives in her children, in their courage, humor, and resilience. It lives in colleagues she has mentored. It lives in the friends, family, and loved ones who feel steadier and wiser because of her presence. It lives in the countless small acts of kindness she offers without announcement.

And it lives in the chorus of people who instinctively speak the truth: Everybody loves Betty.

Beloved on the Earth

The final chapter of my upcoming book opens with a poem quoted in James Ryan’s Wait, What? based on Raymond Carver’s “Late Fragment”:

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved,
to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

For Betty, this is not a question deferred. It is a truth already lived. She is beloved, not because life unfolded easily, but because of the way she has moved through it: with humor, generosity, strength, and the grace of showing up again and again for others.

And, by the way, life rarely unfolds with ease for any of us. We likely would never know our potential without the challenges we face and the choices we make.

An Invitation

In honoring Betty, I find myself returning to a few questions her life continually evokes:

  • Where has life landed you in your own “Holland,” and what unexpected gifts have revealed themselves there?
  • What does courageous acceptance, not resignation, look like in your season of life?
  • What small, relational choices today continue your own legacy of being beloved?

And one more, prompted by writing this gratitude letter:

  • Is there someone in your life, a vital friend, steady presence, or companion through joy and difficulty, who deserves a few words of gratitude while they are here to hear them?

Positive Psychology calls this a gratitude letter, but really, it is simply a way of leaving nothing important unsaid. It need not be long or polished. It only needs to be true.

I do not know how to imagine my life without Betty in it. She has been part of most of my adult chapters, every role change, every family milestone, every period of uncertainty, and every season of joy.

And through all of it, she has been beloved.

 

¹Raymond Carver, “Late Fragment,” in A New Path to the Waterfall (Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989). I first encountered this poem through James E. Ryan’s Wait, What? And Life’s Other Essential Questions (HarperOne, 2017), whose reflections prompted my own interpretation here.