Grammy's pearls

The coaching question that surprised us both

She was getting ready for her interview.

We’d already covered the big stuff — what she knew about the school, how to talk about her strengths, the kinds of questions to expect. We’d talked about the remarkable connection that had surfaced through my network, and how it had helped her understand what she was walking into.

Now we were down to logistics. What to wear.

She’s a mother of two, still nursing her youngest. She was holding up clothing options, unsure.

I don't know what made me ask. It wasn't in any coaching framework. It wasn't strategic. It came from the same place my dreams come from — somewhere below the planning, below the preparation. A knowing I've learned not to ignore.

“Do you have something that connects you with your ancestors or your family?”

I told her that I wear a piece of jade every day that my mother-in-law gave me. It’s empowering — almost like I’m carrying her with me.

Her eyes welled up immediately.

“I have Grammy’s pearls.”

Her grandmother had given her a set of pearls when she was seventeen. A woman ought to have a string of pearls.

“This is exactly why Grammy gave them to me. She would be so proud of me.”

I felt like I had known her Grammy. I’d heard about the crocheted blankets, one for each grandchild.

I’d walked beside her when her grandmother was dying, just as she had walked beside me when Caroline was dying. We’d held each other through the hardest things.

And here we were, choosing pearls.

She went to the interview dressed like a million bucks.

She got the job.

Preparing for any event requires time and care. Research the audience. Prepare your talking points. Rehearse your opening.

But there’s another layer — one I’m learning to trust. It’s the willingness to notice that a string of pearls isn’t just an accessory. It’s lineage. It’s a woman saying to her granddaughter, across time, You’re ready.

🕊️

SAM

“A woman ought to have a string of pearls.”