Going for the Win

Having a Blue Ribbon Kind of Day

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In my family, we’ve always played a lot of cards. Not quite as often these days—people are getting older, and it’s a little harder to gather—but for many years, we held what we lovingly called Pepper tournaments.

Pepper was the name of the game, and it became our tradition. A handful of us—siblings and spouses—would come together for hours of playing, laughing, and good-natured competition. At the end of the day, the winner took home the coveted blue ribbon, which would hang proudly on their refrigerator until the next tournament.

Over the years, we played a lot of Pepper. And though I held my own, I had never once walked away with that blue ribbon. Not once. Over time, it got to me. I’m a pretty good card player. So why not me?

On the drive to a tournament at my sister’s house one day, I caught myself thinking: This time I want to win. I need to win. I’m due.

I could feel that force rising in me—the push of determination, the pressure to prove something, the weight of disappointment if I came home empty-handed again.

But somewhere in the middle of all that noise, I heard another voice. A quieter one. My guides stepped in, as they so often do, and nudged me in a different direction.

Instead of I need to win, I tried something new.

I am having the time of my life.

It wasn’t a strategy. It was a truth I could have overlooked or forgotten.

By the time we arrived and split up into groups of four at different tables, my will to win had softened. I looked around at the faces of my siblings, people I’ve loved my whole life, and I thought, What a gift this is. Just being here.

Playing cards with them has always been one of my favorite things. I think back to one summer evening when I was around eight years old, and we were all gathered around the dining room table for a card game. A thunderstorm blew in, the power went out, and we played with lanterns and flashlights, undeterred and with a great sense of adventure.

Playing cards with my siblings makes me feel rooted. At home. And so, the day of the Pepper tournament, I decided to stay right there in that feeling.

Throughout the tournament, I didn’t check the scores. I didn’t count points. I didn’t care who was ahead or what I needed to catch up. I simply stayed with the thought: I am having the time of my life.

And I was.

When we paused for a break—pizza, stories, teasing each other about misplays and bold moves—I sat back in my chair and let the moment wash over me.

Every now and then, I’d feel a wave of pure gratitude rise up. I didn’t try to hold onto it. I just let it move through me.

This is it, I thought. This is one of the best days ever.

Eventually, it came time to total the scores.

I added mine up without much thought, still feeling the truth of I’m having the time of my life. And when we compared the final tallies—lo and behold—I had won.

My sister-in-law wrote my name and the date on the back of the blue ribbon, and I carried it home like a quiet little miracle. It sat in the passenger seat on the drive, ready to take its place on our refrigerator at last.

But of course, the real victory wasn’t the ribbon. The real win happened long before the final round.

It happened the moment I let go of the outcome and stepped fully into the joy of being exactly where I was.

It’s such an easy trap, isn’t it? We think something has to turn out a certain way in order for us to be happy or peaceful. That team has to win. That person has to say yes. The door has to open. The results have to line up just so.

But peace doesn’t live in the outcome, or even in the circumstances. It lives in the moment. Playing cards with my siblings made it easy, but the truth is, I can have the time of my life any moment I choose. And so can you.

As A Course in Miracles says, peace isn’t the effect that we’re looking for. It’s the cause.

I hope you have some big wins today.

With love,
Deb

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