Monday, July 28, 2025

"Lifetime of Wisdom," Lynn Butterfield's Monday's Warm Cocoa 7.28.2025

"Whenever we would get together I made sure I had my notebook and it always seemed as if I could hardly transcribe her advice quickly enough.” - James Griffin

Lifetime of Wisdom

The early evening was upon us and it was Monday. That meant being able to get together with my friend James Griffin, during the weekly gathering of our service-organization. My sighting of James from across the room was magnetic, causing me to weave around tables, chairs and people to reach him. Once we were face-to-face, our conversation seemed to naturally advance to “centenarian-learning” and his cherished memory of one client in particular.

One of James’ over one-hundred years of age client, a woman with crisp mental abilities, grabbed him by the elbow as he walked with her out of his office.

She pulled him in closely and asked, "Are you happy with your life?"

The question caught James off guard just a little, even though he was used to having astute conversations with this long-time client.

“Yes. As much as I can be,” James responded.

“Then, that’s the only thing you can ask of life,” she responded with a twinkle in her eye.

While relating this experience to me James had an out-of-time, far-off look radiating from his eyes as he said, “Whenever we would get together I made sure I had my notebook and it always seemed as if I could hardly transcribe her advice quickly enough.”

There was a slight pause in our conversation as James mentally rehearsed additional centenarian-friend wisdom he felt to share.

“Make sure you continually make new friends,” she had advised before going into greater depth. “As you age, you’ll find that some of your friends will pass away. Others will move away. Some will simply fade away as a result of life changes; divorce, other interests, job changes. Things are always in motion for everyone.”

James has made a home for her shared wisdom. It fills his heart with warmth as he recalls his interactions with her. I could feel that warmth radiating from him as he recounted more of what she passed on to him.

James’ centenarian-friend never spoke with him about achieving his every dream, accumulating vast wealth, or experiencing constant euphoria. She spoke of finding peace, joy and contentment through love-based personal relationships. She always spoke of the benefit of accepting personal imperfection, celebrating all small victories, and recognizing that true happiness isn’t a destination. It is a state of being, cultivated daily through friendship.

“Are you happy with your life?” I asked myself, as my friend James and I turned our attention to the now starting service club meeting.

“Yes,” I thought, while savoring the words of James’ wise, twinkling-eyed centenarian friend.

“Then, that’s the only thing you can ask of life.”

________________________________________________________

I’m Lynn Butterfield, Real Estate & Lifestyle Expert and Television Host for American Dream TV in Northwest Arkansas. I’ve helped hundreds of Buyers and Sellers, as a real estate agent and Associate Broker with Coldwell Banker, to discover where and how they want to live and work; to achieve what I call Realesation™. That’s why I bring you American Dream TV, Both Sides of the Fence, About the Dish, Monday’s Warm Cocoa and Home by Design Magazine to stir your heart and mind. Contact me so I can join you along your own unique path of discovery.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/10lWDbZ2E-NYvRciiXMglVSo0XJfB6Ask/view?usp=sharing

Monday, July 21, 2025

"A Long Wait" Lynn Butterfield's Monday's Warm Cocoa 7.21.2025

“If I lose him I will be most devastated. He is all I got at home and my cat.” – Joseph Davies

A Long Wait

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the familiar, comforting smell of Joseph’s dog. He sat hunched in the waiting room chair, its plastic cold beneath his over-heated jeans. His clutched phone tight in his hands. It felt like a lifeline and a burden all at once. He’d just sent me a text, a hurried, raw outpouring of fear, and now the silence of the vet’s office amplified his anxious thoughts as he awaited my reply.

“If I lose him I will be most devastated. He is all I got at home and my cat.”

Just an hour before, Joseph’s world had imploded into a frantic scramble of fear and soiled carpet. Buster, his beloved Golden Retriever, had been fine, or at least, "fine" as far as Joseph knew. Then a seizure juddered Buster’s entire body. A sudden, violent tremor shook Buster's large frame, followed by an unexpected gush of urine which saturated the living room carpet below. Joseph scooped him up. Buster’s familiar muscular frame was now terrifyingly limp. The drive to the vet had been a blur of frantic prayers and choked-back tears.

Now, Buster was behind the closed doors, framed in perfect view from Joseph’s seat, in the hands of strangers, who were now evaluating his condition using the language of pet-science. Joseph kept rehearsing the seizure scene as he sat there. Buster's eyes had been, wide with confusion as his legs flailed with spasms. The image was seared into his mind in a painful loop.

A young woman with a nervous terrier on her lap glanced at him sympathetically. Joseph offered a weak, tight-lipped smile in return. All speech was caught in his throat. There was a lump of dread making it impossible for him to talk, even if he knew what to say. Buster wasn't just a pet; he was Joseph’s steady beat of life in his otherwise solitary home, a fixture of unwavering companionship. Buster and Mittens, a quiet cat, were his constants, anchors in a world in which he often felt adrift. The idea of losing Buster was creating a black hole inside his chest. He tried to push the thought away, to focus on the faint sounds from behind the door.

Minutes were dragging as if heavy and thick molasses. He looked at his phone for my response to his message.

“I'm so sorry to hear about that. I've been through that kind of thing with my own dogs. I hope he gets well soon! Please keep me updated.”

At least my message allowed Joseph a brief break from his frenetic thoughts before he was once again consumed, worried about Buster feelings of confusion and fear. He just wanted to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay and take him home.

Finally, the door opened. The veterinarian, her face kind but weary, stepped out. "Mr. Davies?" she said softly. Joseph shot to his feet, his heart hammering against his ribs. This was it. The moment of truth. He braced himself, ready for whatever news she held.

His long wait was over and his house would remain a home for three!

___________________________________________

https://drive.google.com/file/d/10lWDbZ2E-NYvRciiXMglVSo0XJfB6Ask/view?usp=sharing

Monday, July 14, 2025

"Chosen Community" - Lynn Butterfield's Monday's Warm Cocoa 7.14.2025

"I can’t see how they could ever leave here.” – Maxwell Johns

Chosen Community

The late afternoon sun, a familiar golden hue, slanted across the university quad, illuminating the buildings of Southeast University. For Sarah and Mark, this campus wasn't just where they studied and worked; it was where their story together began and continues.

They met during freshman orientation, two wide-eyed eighteen-year-olds navigating the jumble of a new beginning. Sarah, with her quiet intensity and a mind already buzzing with scientific curiosities, was captivated by Mark's easygoing charm and infectious passion for baseball. He was a promising baseball player, she a budding scientist. Their first date was a study session that morphed into hours of laughter over lukewarm coffee. Following the roar of ballfield crowds, after Mark’s home run record shattering college ball career, and the quiet triumph of successful research studies for Sarah, they graduated hand-in-hand, diplomas clutched, with their hearts already committed to an intertwined future.

They married shortly after graduation. It was a joyous celebration attended by many of the friends they’d made in school. Then, after spending four years as a professional baseball player, life, in a serendipitous turn, brought them back to their alma mater.

After a stint as a successful manager in minor league baseball, Mark was invited back to Scissor-Tailed Flycatchers baseball as assistant coach. Sarah, having completed her Ph.D. and a postdoctoral fellowship, secured a research position in one of university's cutting-edge science labs.

Their careers were flourishing, but it was their growing family that truly brought their world into vibrant focus. First came Lily, a whirlwind of energy, then Leo, a sweet, curious soul. Raising two young children while maintaining demanding university careers could have been overwhelming, but Sarah and Mark have a secret weapon, their Southeast University community.

Their friends, many of whom were now professors, administrators, or local business owners, formed a connected, supportive village. When Mark has an away game, or is out of town on the recruiting trail, a friend, whose son received batting instruction from Mark years before, volunteers to come to their rescue to care for the kids. She’s acknowledged as a cherished member of the family, by the kids and their parents, as a grandmother. And, she’s always there when Sarah has a late-night experiment going over-time.

Sarah’s dad, Maxwell, in town for a few days talked with me and said, “you would not believe the number of people visiting that household. They have such deep relationships and support that I can’t see how they could ever leave here.”

The kids are thriving, growing up surrounded by a diverse group of loving adults who are not just friends, but extensions of their family. Lily loves spending time at the baseball facility with her dad and the players. Leo seems to always be held in someone’s arms. Sarah and Mark rarely feel the strain of childcare, instead experiencing the joy of shared parenthood within a community they cherish. Their social calendar is packed, not with obligations, but with genuine connection. Their lives are a testament to the power of community.

They’re a couple who have found a flourishing life, thanks to the enduring embrace of a chosen community.

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https://drive.google.com/file/d/10lWDbZ2E-NYvRciiXMglVSo0XJfB6Ask/view?usp=sharing

Monday, July 7, 2025

"The Benefactors," Lynn Butterfield's Monday's Warm Cocoa, 7.7.2025

"We always seem to have people who need help come into our path.” – Donita Nelson

The Benefactors

Daniel and I spent a few minutes looking in and around my car searching for his cell phone. Even with the two of us scouring high and low, we were unsuccessful at spotting it. Our joint failure ended with Daniel making the pronouncement that he would drive for the next hour and a half to go back to the place he last remembered seeing it. Steel Canyon, a deep mountain canyon with a river running through it.

He decided to jump into his truck and drive immediately, to race with the sun so he could get down the steep winding road before the sun blushed no more. Steel Canyon Road was ever more difficult to navigate in the dark and he wanted the natural light so he could search along the dirt-river-bottom-road, where he had earlier leaped from my car in an effort to escape the potential sting of a huge red hornet. The road I was taking was safer; a wide and smooth interstate freeway, and thinking it wouldn’t take me long to complete my drive was both, right and wrong.

It was right because it only took about ten minutes before taking the final turn toward my driveway. I was wrong, because as I took that last turn, at a very slow speed to navigate the abruptly changing elevation, I watched as the sleek metal and glass silhouette of Daniel’s cell phone drifted down the windshield until it rested in the wiper crevasse. I stopped dumbfounded; eyes wide and mouth agape.

I couldn’t call Daniel! After all, I was in possession of his phone. So, I drove back to his hotel, went to the front desk concierge, and asked her to give it to Daniel upon his return. He called me about three hours later.

After rehearsing “the sliding incident,” and apologizing for not being able to reach him before he drove all the way back to Steel Canyon, we laughed together before Daniel verbalized his distinctive character.

“It was important for me to go. There was a family stuck on the side on the canyon road that needed my help!”

That was two years ago, before Daniel married Donita, and he texted me with a renewed invitation.

“We’ve been wanting to give a restaurant a try,” Daniel’s message said, causing me to read with a smile.

I smiled again as I read the address. It was just the sort of place Daniel and Donita Nelson would choose, an out-of-the-way joint in the middle of nowhere. And, I laughed as the warm memory of the Steel Canyon adventure with lunch in an historic café rebounded in my mind.

We were the exclusive patrons of the Wildflower Café upon our arrival. We listened to our server recite the day’s menu and placed our order before Donita began another tale as a tantalizing appetizer.

“We always seem to have people who need help come into our path,” she began.

Daniel and Donita then painted a verbal picture of them traversing a lonely country road where they ‘happened” upon a young man who had crashed on his bicycle. Donita, a nurse, knew how to treat him, but didn’t have her medical bag. As they were wondering what to do, a man suddenly appeared, who happened to have an EMT medical kit, containing just want Donita needed to treat the young man’s injuries. Which she happily did.

I was enraptured by this new paralleled story and wondered what description perfectly equals the continually compassionate Daniel and Donita.

“The Benefactors!”

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https://drive.google.com/file/d/10lWDbZ2E-NYvRciiXMglVSo0XJfB6Ask/view?usp=sharing

Monday, June 30, 2025

Lynn Butterfield's Monday's Warm Cocoa 6.30.2025

“What if I have regrets later?” – Gabe Chariton

Formative Importance

Gabe’s thinking wheels were turning. He had formulated a question about his financial future. That question was spinning in his mind. He was processing information over and over again. Yet, he was doing more than processing.

Processing could be a practice of rehashing the same old thoughts. That wasn’t what he was doing. He had considered his current position and was using it to gather additional intelligence. I knew he was assembling more data, because he asked me to give him some analysis. That’s why we were sitting together, talking through the facts, before hitting golf balls, on a bright Thursday afternoon, in a bay at the local Top Golf.

That’s where I witnessed Gabe’s formative thinking progression.

This wasn't just a financial transaction for him; it was a deep breath at a pivotal crossroads. Gabe understood, with a quiet certainty, that this choice would be formative. It wasn't merely about the immediate cash or a perceived potential, distant windfall; it was about weaving the very fabric of his financial and core beliefs together, shaping his relationship with risk, and laying the groundwork for every significant money decision he’d make for years to come. Would he prioritize the comforting embrace and security of retiring all his current obligations, or the one who dared to dream of exponential growth, trusting in a possible long-game phantom?

Gabe’s next question was, “What if I sell that property and its value increases tremendously over the next few years?”

“May I make a suggestion?” I answered.

“Yes. Please,” Gabe responded.

“Will you please tell me what is most important to you right now?”

After thinking for a few moments Gabe said, "opportunity cost is not just in dollars, but in the precious currency of peace of mind. Being debt-free isn't just about the financial ledger; it will free up my mind. It will allow me to think clearer, to explore future ventures with a lighter heart, unburdened by the hovering hammer of debt. The potential future appreciation of the property, while a lovely thought, is really like a distant, shimmering star. I’ll think about it over the next couple of days and we’ll talk again.”

Gabe’s thinking wheels still were turning. Yet, I had witnessed a shift in his thinking from unproductive rehashing to formative importance. He was now focused on the tangible, not on a nonexistent future.

“It’s critical to determine what is most important to you,” I said. “It will allow you to act now, without the worry of regret in the future. That’s why I call it formative importance. It confirms what you really want now, so you can build a path forward without remorse.”

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https://drive.google.com/file/d/10lWDbZ2E-NYvRciiXMglVSo0XJfB6Ask/view?usp=sharing

Monday, June 23, 2025

"Strengthening Hands" Lynn Butterfield's Monday's Warm Cocoa 6.23.2025

“I’m 56 years old and should be doing this by myself,” - My Friend's Daughter

Strengthening Hands

Three of us were sitting at a dining area table together. It was the first time for me to meet my friend’s daughter. She’s not a young girl. She turned 56 years old not long ago.

Her father is no longer a young man either. He’s 83 and still watching out for his daughter. That’s why he wanted to get some additional, outside help for her. She’s been unemployed for a few months now, with building financial woes, and sometimes it’s hard to have difficult conversations with people who are close to us.

“Please tell me what is going on with you now,” I asked her, while already knowing a little bit about her situation as described by her father.

She took a deep, emotion-filled breath and began to fill-in the blank spots of her current financial situation. One of those spots was filled with what could be characterized as “the elephant in the room.” A mammoth issue that was about to crush her, along with her financial future for many years to come. And, it could be avoided with a little bit of short-term help, so I took a deep breath and launched right into the hard question.

“Do you have someone who’s able to help you through this rough spot with a little loan?”

“I’m 56 years old and should be doing this by myself,” she responded quickly.

It was an admirable, but unrealistic sentiment which she explained by launching into all of the reasons no one else would be willing to help her get past her current position. Luckily, there was another “elephant” sitting in the room, right across the table.

“I can loan you the money,” her father immediately offered.

“I can’t let you do that,” she replied.

“Why not?” I retorted. “You will be able to return the money in about 90 days and he’ll hardly notice it was gone because of the fast turnaround.”

That’s when tears began to stream from her eyes. She answered with a hiccup voice reiterating, “I’m 56 years old and should be doing this by myself.”

“It will remove the immediate urgency facing you,” I said gently, as relief began to wash across her face and over her body.

Sometimes relief is hard to find on your own. Especially when thinking you’ve reached an age of maturity. Yet, every one of us will likely need the strengthening hands of willing loved ones from time to time. It can be a hard ask! It can also be accompanied by easy, obvious help from someone who cares about you deeply. Maybe it’s the intimate nature of possible supporting help that makes asking so hard. But it’s worth it.

Over the next few minutes we created a path forward and put the wheels of progress in motion. Forward progress came quickly, with joyful relief. It was a respite made possible by strengthening hands.

________________________________________

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ktZfblXh2jAyKce2-EJazGOdQnaERL3A/view?usp=sharing

Monday, June 16, 2025

"Sprinting for Dad" Monday's Warm Cocoa 6.16.2025

Fans cheer as a little girl runs to her father after a baseball victory.

Sprinting for Dad

When thinking of American baseball many connections come to mind. Summer, hot dogs, peanuts, a seventh inning stretch and a group singalong of “Take me out to the Ball Park” are certainly some front-of-mind thoughts. Yet, a new, inspiring connection played out, the other day, in a college ball park at the conclusion of one particular NCAA Super Regional baseball game.

The host and winning team of the baseball game gathered in the center of the infield to celebrate their win. They were surrounded by joyful reverberations, intermingled with music floating from the still-full stadium as players, coaches, managers and fans cheered and applauded each other. After-all, it had been years since they’d enjoyed such a victory. This win qualified them to compete against seven other teams in the 2025 College Baseball World Series. Thousands were blissfully focused on baseball success, until a concurrent happening played out.

A young toddler sitting in the right field stands had waited patiently for the end of the ballgame. She had waited almost four hours to reach her own envisioned victory. Her dreamed for victory was different than that of all other spectators celebrating in the stands. Her only interest in the baseball game was that it would be over, win or lose. So, as soon as the game ended and the team gathered in the infield, she could no longer be contained.

With one quick, decoy move this toddler shimmied away from her mother and set her sight on reaching one person on the field. She ran to reach the arms of her father, a coach for the winning team.

The girl’s run began in right field on small, churning legs at the edge of the warning track and picked up speed and attention as her feet hit the grass. The crowd caught sight of her streak not long after she hit the grass. One could her a slight roar begin to build as fans noticed her intent.

The growing roar continued to rise to crescendo until her father sees her, scoops her up in his arms to capture her love and in one smooth twirl, lifts her to victory position on his shoulders. One small girl had successfully shifted attention from an unforgettable baseball victory to a remarkable winning of viewing hearts. Perhaps such winning of the heart is evidence of the importance of having a loving father and a foreshadow of more love to be shared on Father’s Day, happening a short week and a half, from her victory run.

It was a run that, from now on, whenever I think of baseball, will cause me to reminisce and smile, as I recall one little girl’s baseball-field-sprint into the arms of her beloved father.

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https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ktZfblXh2jAyKce2-EJazGOdQnaERL3A/view?usp=sharing

Monday's Warm Cocoa

Monday, July 28, 2025