I often see the city of Frisco as our very own Mayberry. Landscaped lawns, well-maintained roads, coffee shops on every corner. Building after beautiful building booms into our skyline. We have more retail and restaurant options than we can count.
Heck, there’s even a place called The Star. That says it all. A bright, beautiful, shiny community full of opportunity. Sometimes I think I could eat off of the sidewalk.
But in the age of “the next best” and “bigger and better,” it’s easy to gain commercialism but lose character. So when my son started a new preschool, and we were forced to drive a different route to get there, I was thrilled to witness a side of my sparkling city I wouldn’t have otherwise seen. A side that I’m arguably the proudest of.
Before dawn, gathered around a gas station in the beloved Rail District, are men waiting for work; laborers for hire.
The past few weeks I’ve watched them closely—some are huddled together talking, some stand-alone—all surely hoping to secure employment for the day.
Every day—rain, shine, freezing or frigid—they show up.
These might be the people I admire the most: the showing up ones. It’s much easier to surrender to circumstance—to do what you WANT to do versus what you NEED to do—than to stand out in the cold with no control over the outcome.
But in my book these men, the ones who hustle and help build, are the cornerstone of our fast-growing community.
I have my own fears about showing up. About how I’ll provide for two special needs kids if my husband’s heart stops. You see, these aren’t rhetorical concerns, they are my circumstances, and sometimes they consume me.
Sometimes I’d rather stay in the comfort of my own bed than stand up and solider on.
But driving past these men, my worry lessened. They’ve taught me that with enough fight there’s always a way to be found. And this way happens to be a simple one:
You just show up.
You show up to your life, your work, your relationships in whatever way you can. You bring your best, even if that best is a messy bun and overstretched sweat pants (raising my hand high here), and you meet your day exactly where you’re at.
You don’t mind the weather—storms will inevitably hit us all—you just show up and say you’re ready. That’s the secret to success and survival.
A cup of coffee and some breakfast tacos probably doesn’t amount to much, but I couldn’t continue to drive past and not say hi to some of my personal Frisco heroes.
The beauty of our community wouldn’t be possible without the people who show up ready to contribute.
So just remember, as you wait for what this day will bring, to show up exactly as is. You may get selected, you may go home, but perseverance always pays off.
