Historic brick buildings stand straight and proud, a few blocks from my 1891 cottage. The city’s streets don lamp posts with lit holiday wreaths and lead east to the train depot, which was turned into a vibrant community center. Just beyond the depot lies the silent, swift flow of the Missouri River.
The first Saturday in December, the community gathered at the depot for its annual holiday market. Artisans displayed and sold their wares, a guitarist and violinist played, delicious German food cooked, and families milled, pointed and smiled. My mother and I chatted with a basket weaver who made one-of-a-kind, sturdy baskets. She had incorporated antique handles and tools into some of her designs. We marveled at her handiwork, and I asked her how long it took to make the baskets.
“This one took a whole day,” she said, picking up an intricate basket sitting next to her. “My husband says I should charge more for the baskets. He says I should be paid for my time.” The basket was about $50.
My mother and I agreed with her husband. Her designs and handiwork were beautiful, and we echoed that she should charge more.
“Some people think they are too expensive. I was in another fair and a lady picked up one of my baskets that was $38, and said it was too expensive. I thought, ‘Lady, if you only knew how long it took me to make that basket!”
“Oh, you should let people know how long it takes you to make these!” I said. “If you did, they’d be willing to pay more. What if you put out a sign that talked about your process and the time it takes?”
“I used to have something like that…a picture of me making a basket…” she trailed off, steeped in thought as she rubbed her sore and tired hands.
My mother bought one of her baskets that we had admired and gave it to me. We talked with her a while longer and then went on our way.
Later, at home, I carried the basket around, looking for the perfect spot to display it. As I got it situated, I thought about the basket weaver, her skill and the care with which she displayed her baskets, but also her reticence to promote her process or to raise her prices.
“So many of us do that,” I thought. “We have gifts and beauty to offer the world but sell ourselves short. We are afraid to be criticized or looked down upon, so we stay small and silent.”
What if each of us determine in the new year to develop our talents and gifts and offer them fully to the world? What if we kick fear to the curb and own our worth? I believe we would live richer, more vibrant lives.
So, here is a charge for us all: Let’s determine to stand tall and be all we were meant to be. The world is waiting for the unique gifts that only you and I can bring.